Food for thought.

I started reading Jennifer 8 Lee's The Fortune Cookie Chronicles today, and something the author said really made me think.

'Charitably, you could describe me as "passionate" about Chinese food. Passions seem lively and motivating, while obsessions sound dark and vaguely deviant. But the line between passion and obsession is a wobbly one.'

She went on to talk about how obsessions pick and control us more than we pick and control them. That had me thinking of the time I almost backed out of a much-anticipated Lawry's lunch with the girls as I was - I admit - obsessed with completing one of my first freelance food articles.

The realisation was startlingly clear. I was, once upon a time, driven by adrenaline and hair-tearing, overzealous passion. I was, once upon a time, obsessed with work. It's a rousing and somewhat scary thought. Thankfully, that obsession has, over time, dulled into a slow-burning passion. You would rarely find me in the office after 6.30pm these days, unless it's production crunch-time. And it's become a lot easier to fix up appointments and dinner dates with me as compared to the start of my career, when I would leave office to go home and write.

And you know what? I'm feeling so much better now that I'm not all strung up. I guess it does help to have a wholly successful boss who would, once in awhile, remind me that 'work is not everything'.

Balance. This could be one of my buzzwords for 2011. :)

Reflecting, sorta.

It wouldn't be quite right to say that 2010 has come and gone without a trace, for it has left quite a trail in its wake. The past year has at times passed by painfully slowly; at others it has whizzed by so quickly my attempts to slow it down are rendered futile. Perhaps it would be fair to say that 2010 was a year of both losses and celebrations - I lost my brother, but I also celebrated my freedom and went on to bag what I think is one of the most awesome jobs in Singapore.

I've lost the yen to self-reflect, break down and scrutinise every aspect in my life. While it is always good to give what you've done or about to do some serious thought, I've realised it is more important to just... live. And that's what I've been doing I guess. There's plenty more I want to see, do, experience, taste (haha), feel and accomplish, and there's a sense of wonder at how 2011 will bring with it more chances to do just that.

So 2010, according to the Chinese zodiac, may not have been such a good year for Tigers like myself. It's indeed been a bumpy ride, and since the Chinese zodiac says that this year's gonna be better... I say bring it on!

Eight days late but better late than never...

Happy 2011 everybody!

I rang in the new year while grocery shopping in a 24-hour supermarket. It was so emblematic of my life and I really wouldn't have it any other way. :)

The festive rush.

Anybody who tells you that you can smoothly juggle:

1. a full-time job (with responsibilities that warrant that I clear all my articles before I jet off for a 11-day holiday - read: 8 stories, photo shoots + proofreading in 1.5 weeks)
2. festive celebrations
3. temporarily running a household and
4. planning and packing for above-mentioned holiday

is LYING.

I have in the past 10 days, :

1. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
2. Ran amok collecting work-related stuff from around Singapore
3. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
4. Shopped, searched and bought gifts for festive exchanges
5. Shopped, searched and lugged home 100000 items for a photo shoot
6. Played Cinderella at a gala dinner (11pm curfew to WRITE)
7. Realised I've missed out on a gift
8. Scrambled/begged for favours to get gift
9. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
10. Drawn up a packing list
11. Chucked packing list
12. Vacuumed luggage (that's what happens when you now live near a construction site)
13. Baked way too many cookies
14. Ate way too many chocolates
15. Ate way too much

 #7 - #14 happened today, by the way. #15 happens every other day.

Crazy? It's an understatement.

My golden kitchen rule.

picture from inmagine

My job often sees me interviewing chefs and bakers, and one recurring question I always pose is this: "What is the one piece of advice you'll give to aspiring cooks?"
Their replies range from "Always read the recipe once in its entirety before cooking" to "Invest in a sharp knife". Valuable advice definitely, but if you asked me - which you probably wouldn't, which is why I'm blogging about this - I would say: "Never pile the dishes in the sink!" Trust me, it's something I've learned from all the recipes I've been testing.
 
Have a think. To make a simple chocolate cake, you would require:

1. Measuring cups and spoons to measure the ingredients
2. A knife to portion the butter
3. A heatproof bowl to melt the chocolate
4. A whisk or electric beaters to cream the butter and sugar
5. A bowl to hold the butter and sugar
6. And if you're separating the eggs from the yolks, another whisk and bowl to whip up the egg whites
7. A baking tin for the batter 

That's quite a bit to plunk in the sink, and quite a dreary feat to wash up after! It doesn't have to be though, not if you - and here's the key phrase - wash as you go.

Here's what I'd do:

1. Measure out all ingredients, then plunk measuring spoons, cups and knife into the sink
2. Put the chocolate to melt
3. Wash all that are in the sink - this shouldn't take too long and the chocolate should have melted by the time you're done.
4. Remove chocolate from heat and leave to cool slightly.
5. Cream butter and sugar
6. Whisk egg whites
7. Add chocolate, yolks and other ingredients into the creamed butter.
8. Fold in egg whites.
9. Dump all used bakeware into the sink.
10. Pour batter into the tin, then place it into the oven to bake.
11. Wash all that is in the sink - this will take longer than the first round of washing up, but your cake's probably not gonna be ready that soon anyway!
12. Wipe down the tables, twiddle thumbs and perhaps take a quick shower.
13. Cake's ready.
14. Serve and eat in peace, comforted by the knowledge that all you have to wash at the end of this is the greasy cake tin.

Easy peasy?

Losing teeth.

I've spent the drug-induced weekend wondering just how long one is supposed to ponder a grave decision, such as whether to voluntarily subject your jaws to the torture of being cut apart and then sewn up. Then again, it never was a matter of yes or no for me; but more a matter of when. Afterall, I'd certainly sat on the niggling toothaches that came and went for long enough, so much so that when the 10-day persistent toothache rolled along, I knew, deep, deep down in my gut that it was time. And since I was at it, why not remove all four achey buggers, instead of drawing out the process by extracting them in pairs? The bonus: I get to be asleep while the dental surgeon declares war on my gums.

The three weeks leading up to the big op was uneventful, to say the least. While my colleagues were inspired to share their horror extraction stories during pantry lunches, I remained mostly unaffected,  focused instead on working like a woman on a mission in order to earn my planned medical leave. Yeah yeah, I can lose them teeth but I still have a magazine to publish. Ironic really, how the erratic world of magazine publishing is supported by this clockwork grind. But I digress.

The first trickles of apprehension started about three days before the op. I can't remember what spurred it, but I do recall having a "oh man, it's happening this Friday!" moment while walking back from lunch on a sunny day. Work kept me distracted well enough until Thursday night - I'd normally want nothing more than to cab home for a quick bite after four straight days of overtime, but that night, all I could think of was how I wouldn't be able to eat properly for a while, and I admit, how there may be the tiniest chances I may never wake to eat again (drama, I know). So I rolled home just before my no-food-no-drink midnight curfew, stuffed to the brim with kimchi and barbecued short ribs, and straight into bed with butterflies (or it could be all that food) in my belly.

I awoke thirsty and hungry (how is that even possible?!) on Friday morning and I really didn't have much time to ponder life and death before I had to "check in" to the day ward and dress in those horrid hospital robes. Nope, forest green and baby pink will never be my favourite colour combination. The rest of the pre-op procedures happened in a flurry - my blood pressure was taken several times as it read a little too low for the nurses' liking (what do they expect, I was starving) but they got over it and I was soon escorted down a long hallway towards the operating theatre. Somewhere in the flurry I kicked myself mentally for not completing my insurance nominee forms.

I was then taken through a risk-acknowledgement pep talk by a perky albeit inexperienced doctor, who made me think of Greys' Anatomy and Kenrick and how I should do my part in contributing to medical education. But while I smiled and nodded cursorily, my mind screamed accusatory questions: Why did I choose to go under general anesthesia (read: indefinitely comatose) instead of extracting just two teeth under local anesthesia (read: squirmy but still awake)??

Because you see, I realised then that it wasn't the pain that scared me. It never was the pain that scared me, but the fact that I may not wake up from the anesthesia. Because as easy as it sounds to be asleep and oblivious as strangers sawed through my gums, it is hard, very hard for me to voluntarily surrender myself to unconsciousness. It was, to me, choosing to gamble death, and I was so close to throwing in the towel and screaming: "No, don't put me to sleep; I'll sit through the horror of having you saw through my gums while I'm awake!" But the thought of putting off the extraction and rescheduling an appointment irritated me enough to hop on the operating table, amidst beeping machines, scrubs-clad staff and yup, another eager trainee, this time tasked with finding an appropriate vein in my left hand. "I'm educating the young... I'm educating the young," I breathed through a bruising pain, smiled at my anesthesiologist (who oddly resembles The Flying Dutchman) and drifted off to oblivion.

I awoke an hour later to the first perky doctor, who shakily assured me that my tastebuds were still intact. It was too quick and surreal, waking up in a different room, scrub cap removed and my hair smoothed out. I would have thought we hadn't begun, if not for the tell-tale spot of blood on my blanket and jaws that felt like they'd survived an hour in a boxing ring.

Solace.

image via weheartit.com

It hasn't been the breeziest of weeks. I've had my fair share of laughter, courtesy of my nutty colleagues and, I've come to realise, an absurd ability to laugh at myself, but there's been a hint of gloom hanging over it all; the kind of gloom that can encourage not-so-cheery feelings to grow and fester, if not properly tended to.

I had one of those mornings yesterday, quite possibly because I was lugging around what feels like a body's worth of loaned tableware and hardcover books about town. I was grumpy and cranky, and my top was unflatteringly hitched up into awkward folds by the loaded bags.

I tottered briskly on towards the last stop, impatiently blowing my fringe out of my eyes. I came up the escalator from the underpass and instinctively, my steps slowed as my vision focused on the Sun Moulin Bakery.

 The aromas wafting out from the bakery reeled me in and I soon found myself navigating its narrow aisles in wide-eyed wonder, oblivious to the weight on my left shoulder now that all my other senses were consumed by the sight and smells of freshly baked pastries.

I was instantly cheered. I'd found my happy place.

If there's one thing you do this week...

Make yourself lunch!

I've taken to making and bringing a salad to work on days that I know we'll be lunching in Pulau Loyang. It may sound like a hassle, but I really enjoy the process of cooking for myself. 

Picture this: A quiet kitchen and the rhythmic sounds of washing, chopping and tossing. Time-consuming perhaps, but strangely therapeutic.

Just today, I found myself in a really long, seemingly unmoving queue for wanton noodles. (What I really wanted was a packet of economic bee hoon but there was none to be found in the area.) My stomach was growling, almost howling, when I suddenly recalled the packet of asparagus and organic soba I'd picked up the day before. So I slipped out of the queue, albeit a little regretfully as is always the case after I've been queuing for awhile, and zipped home to make myself a bowl of miso asparagus soba.

Too quick and simple to be fantastic, but the sight of fresh green stalks nestled amidst the creamy brown noodles made me really happy.

:)

The silent evolution.

It wasn't too long ago that I was hitting the pool every other day and packing off on an island getaway every chance I got. It's certainly been a long while since my last proper sun soaked beach vacation, and while Krabi was moodily wet a good part of the time, going out to sea and swimming with the fishes made me release how much I've missed it.

How did it happen?

How did I go from selecting my holiday destinations by beaches to selecting it by the restaurants I want to check out?
How did I develop such a consuming passion for food?

Redang, July 2007

Sydney, May 2010

Back to the island: Krabi, Oct 2010

I used to religiously check in on my favourite yoga and wellness sites, but I read more food reviews than I do fitness news these days.

I think it's time I retipped the balance...

LOL.

Smooshy: says: (2:32:00 PM)
fallin asleep

Smooshy: says: (2:32:05 PM)
somebody please slap me

leigh says: (2:37:47 PM)
-slap

leigh says: (2:37:48 PM)
haha

Smooshy: says: (2:38:50 PM)
AGAIN

leigh says: (2:41:10 PM)
-slap slap slap

leigh says: (2:41:12 PM)
slap me back leh

Smooshy: says: (2:42:55 PM)
mega SLAP

Cafe dreaming.

The thing I love, and miss, most about Australia is the very vibrant, very exciting dining scene. I like how there are so many enclaves to explore and how there is always a really good cafe/bistro/wine bar

to pop into at every corner. I happened to surf into one of the Aussie blogs I read while planning my food itinerary and surprise, surprise, the latest post was about yet another bistro opening. This one's in Redfern, in the grungy/new-agey Sydney suburb where Baffi & Mo is located. 

I went on to read a few of her earlier entries and there it was - a post on where to celebrate Christmas in July and all the yuletide offerings during the Australian winter.

Christmas, twice in a year. Lucky bastards.

Whoopeedoo.

It may be a long working Saturday in the office tomorrow, but I'm milking the short exhilaration that comes with most Friday nights. That, and I'm feeling strangely pumped up - we're FINALLY nearing the finish line for our launch issue and I'm feeling super, super proud and satisfied. "It's like giving birth," my colleague quipped. 

Yup, it sure does feel like it!

But it's never quite all work and no play food in the office. :)

The week of disappointing dinners. Or how curiosity killed the cats.

I was scrolling through my iPhone in search of an emblematic picture of my week and surprise, surprise - I have nothing but pictures of food, chefs and hastily-taken shots in various supermarkets. I shall not risk an overdose of food porn here and content with words, for now.

It's 5:41 on a slightly rainy Friday evening and I've just wrapped up yet another session in the kitchen. Cooking, an activity usually reserved for special occasions, has become a staple part of my weekends. It is time-consuming and all that supermarketing sometimes makes me feel like I'm morphing beyond my years into a messy homemaker, but I quite enjoy it. And my kitchen skills are improving at a rate that would make my Saffron instructors rather proud. That's not to say that I wouldn't like to spend a day doing absolutely nothing food-related while curled up on the couch reading a non-food-related book... but that will have to wait till we groove through the bumpy start-ups!

But I digress. This post was meant to be a rant on my supremely unsatisfying dinners out this week. Two were pretty horrid, the third unmemorable. I shan't go into details - let's just say it involved, against better logic, a timer and horribly substandard fare. It will definitely be awhile before I let my curiosity get the better of me. I'm sticking to tried-and-tested favourites for now! Actually, I might just go on a pre-Krabi detox while I'm at it.

Tofu and veggies, anyone?

Off to the shower and then to the East to feed the babes with today's creations. Let's hope they like it!

I'll write you another time.

I wonder if this obssession with food is an occupational hazard?

Searching for the sunset.

Post-shoot town trawling with C on a Friday night. What turned out to be complimentary desserts after I found a stone in my sticky date pudding, but yummy nonetheless, and extremely comforting after a long, trying week.

 Where rainbows end

Searching for the sunset

Level 3 spicy wings with the poly quartet - yummy but nowhere near the virgin level 6 I had with the CS babes.

Treading water.

Very, very, very, very, very busy. Gulp.

Taking stock.

I suppose it is when you're dog tired yet still buzzing with contentment that you can be certain you love your job. It's been a crazy week at work, but witnessing our hard work translate into a tangible product, and of course having the traditional closing drinks with the team, make all the scrambling and late nights worth it.

 But I did have a spot of calm before the storm. I spent the entire weekend doing absolutely nothing work related and what a breath of fresh air it was! It was good catching up on all the gossip with the GQC babes over pizzas and desserts on Saturday, as it was having Jin over on Sunday evening to demolish a few cupcakes and wine, in a somewhat homely tribute to our pre-India/HK happy hour margaritas. And despite her allergy to dust, she gamely got on her knees to peek under my bed and behind the piano in the hopes of uncovering something I've stupidly misplaced.

I've yet to find it.

Well, I should know by now that life indeed works in funny ways. Perhaps the answers I'm looking for will come to me in another way.

I'd still like to find it though.

I pulled a Merlion last night.

image from inmagine.com

After a long weekend of feasting, I returned to work yesterday only to have a Nepalese-Indian lunch after our shoot, and a five-course European dinner tasting at night. Both meals were very, very enjoyable and while I didn't roll back feeling as ill as I did after Sunday's dinner, I found myself springing awake at 3.30am, overcome with nausea. 

If there's one thing I detest the most in this world, it's barfing. This is coming from someone who would rather spend a week fighting nausea in India than to actually hug a toilet bowl and get down to it. So I held it in for an hour in the dark, but just as I thought the breathing exercises were working, a jolt of acid shot up my chest and I was soon at the mercy of my first barf in six years.

It was gross. So, so gross. Serves me right.

Too much food on my plate.

Literally, and figuratively. It's been absolutely crazy at work the past week, but I did find pockets of calm - some expected and some surprising - to keep me sane.
A Friday evening in a shophouse nestled away from the noise and traffic, chatting with a very hospitable interviewee; a movie, dumplings and finally catching up with C; a delish dinner with a new friend in one of my favourite parts of Singapore; an absolutely FILLING Sunday dinner with close friends and family; and a looooong three-hour sobering walk (definitely needed it after all that food!) this morning that took us through an empty CBD to Marina Bay Sands.

Yes, it's been a good long weekend indeed. :)

Official beginnings.

So I've graduated - the official proceedings have been attended and the caps have been tossed. It doesn't feel any different though, perhaps because I've been working for almost two months now. I do think the entire process is a tad overrated, but it did wrap up my final four years of education very nicely and provided my academic pursuit with a closure of sorts. I've never been a fan of NTU, but it is the place where I forged several unforgettable friendships. And the school did offer me many opportunities, some of which without I wouldn't be where I am today. So yes, it has been a tediously long but nevertheless fruitful time.

The safety net that comes with being a student has officially been whipped away, but I like feeling the ground beneath my feet. :)