DimSumDolly* - the different morsels of the life of a foodie

Move On

I've been feeling down and demoralised of late, feelings primarily brought on by stuff that's been going on at work. When you suddenly suck at something you thought you were pretty good at, your confidence sinks to a new low; you're consumed with self-doubt and you can't seem to think properly anymore.

It was with these feelings that I wrote to a few close friends to pour my feelings out about how I felt about my life and where it's going, or rather not going. A telephone call with monoceros ended up in a teary conversation after releasing the floodgates that have been building up over quite some time.

Another dear friend, A, wrote back with consoling words and part of the lyrics of a song called Move On by Stephen Sondheim, apt for anyone feeling in a rut or is lost. I have no idea what the song sounds like, but its lyrics dance beautifully in my head with its words of encouragement.

Stop worrying where you're going,
Move on.
If you can know where you're going,
You've probably gone.
Just keep moving on.

I chose, and my world was shaken.
So what?
My choice may have been mistaken,
The choosing was not.
You have to move on...

Old Bird

One of my teammates, D, whom I've gotten to know better this year, calls me an 'old bird'. She said she never knew what an 'old bird' I was until recently - actually just a few days ago - when she found out how old I actually was. She had thought I was the same age as she was, i.e. three years ago older, because I seemed so 'old'.

I think I've always been a little more mature for my age. When people my age frequent bars and clubs, I've disliked them from the very beginning, preferring quiet, sitdown dinners and gatherings with friends than downing beer in noisy, crowded clubs. I can count the number of times I've been to Zouk (THE club in Singapore) on both hands.

I'm a prude. I'm old-fashioned in some ways.

I dislike noise. I dislike people who act cute and squeal and have over-the-top reactions. It irritates me. I don't tolerate nonsense or bullshit. I hate it when people are wishwashy or flaky; like just make up your mind and get on with it already.

I'm also quiet in front of strangers. By all accounts and purposes, I could, and probably do, come across as an extremely boring person. My circle of good friends encompass only those whom I've gone to school or paddled with.

In other words, "Reclusive Old Bird" might be a more apt description of me.

Tissue Seller

The day before yesterday, I did something I seldom do - I bought tissue paper from a tissue paper peddler. I've said 'No' numerous times to peddlers at hawker centres, kopitiams and walked past many who sit at the side of the road waiting for some kind soul to buy three or four packets of tissue for $1.

Many of those who sell them are either underprivileged or handicapped in some way or another, yet many of us brush them off. I'm not sure why or how most of us got into the habit of turning these people away when they're trying in their own small way to earn a meagre living. Was it because the government sent out some mandate saying that we shouldn't buy from these people so as to discourage them from selling tissues???

However, on Tuesday while exiting the MRT station on my way to meet a friend at Toa Payoh's HDB Hub, I couldn't bring myself to walk away from an old blind woman who was standing just outside the doors leading into the station. With her cane in her left hand and the right hand grasping some $1 coins in the palm while holding on to three packets of tissue in the same hand and a big full of tissue packets on the right wrist, the white-hair woman was standing forlornly in a corner with the peak hour crowd rushing past her, oblivious to her presence.

For some reason, the sight of her broke my heart and I don't think I could have forgiven myself had I walked away without buying the tissues. When I went up to her and asked how much the tissues were, she said to me in Chinese, "你要跟我讲话我才知道你在，因为我看不见." (You have to talk to me for me to know you're here because I can't see.)

Of all the senses, I think sight is the worst one to lose. It's so difficult to do anything without being able to see. So much of the world's beauty and colour is lost. So much literature is out of reach.

I guess from now on, I'm going to tell myself wherever possible, help. Seriously, I haven't been the most charitable person and perhaps it's time to change that. Doesn't matter if I end up with packs of tissue; will just use it to "chope" seats at food courts and hawker centres. Hee.

Are You Happy?

I stumbled across the Are you happy? series yesterday and have since been quite taken with the column. Why oh why doesn't any Singapore paper come up with such brilliant ideas for columns? Instead, Singaporeans are tortured into reading crappy columns written by wannabe sports presenter Jamie Yeo and wannabe pop star Maia Lee (from the first Singapore Idol) which always seem to delve on ex-boyfriends and the like. I read two articles written by each one of them, and swore never to read another.

So anyway, high quality journalism is one of the reasons why I read papers like The Guardian and the New York Times even though I don't live in the UK or US. You see, even when they write about fluff, it's good fluff they write. If I could but write a fraction as well as some of their journalists do, I'd be over the moon. Anyway, I'd like to pretend that I'm going to be published in The Guardian and take my own stab at answering the eternal question - 'Are you happy?'

Jxxx xx, undecided being

As much as I'd like to say I am, by all accounts, happy, a stronger part of me wants to say otherwise. Perhaps it stems from the fact that I'm not finding meaning in what I do for a living. Yet, dropping everything to pursue something else is impossible. For me, there seems to be this eternal conflict or dilemma, which ever way you want to call it, between what I like and what actually pays a somewhat decent wage. I am afflicted by the constant inverse relationship of the two. I still can't quite figure out what path ahead I should trod.

However, happiness is also about moments in time. I feel happy when I'm paddling out at sea in an outrigger canoe. It's blissful when it's just me, the water and the sun, away from the city bustle.

I feel happy when I'm enjoying good food and conversation with a bunch of good friends or my family over a casual meal that does not reek of pretension and pomposity.

Happiness is also when I stumble upon a good book in the library whose pages are so new it still smells freshly minted. Happiness is when I read a piece of good writing.

Happiness is when you're in love; when you know that there is someone interested to hear about you talk about your day even if it sounds mundane and lame to the rest of the world. It's a feeling that went as quickly as it came a long while ago and I struggle to remember it.

But until I really find myself, I'm afraid I'll always remain ambivalent about my state of happiness.

Your Label

In some way or another, all of us are defined by what we do for a living. Unfortunately, not many of us like the label being slapped upon us. 99.9% of the people I know or meet (myself included) wished they were something else – tragic but true. While surfing The Guardian website, I came across some interesting labels some people had given themselves in a series called Are you happy?; one look and you know that these are people who love what they do or are just comfortable in their own skin.

Here are some cool labels:

Bubbleologist (Blowing bubbles - sounds like real fun!)
Body Percussionist (My tummy is so big it looks and sounds like a drum when I slap it - perhaps I qualify)
Dog Behaviourist (Erm, I can be quite a bitch. Does that qualify?)
Retro Enthusiast (Hmm...I like retro too...but how to make money ah?)
Bon Vivant (What a delightful label!)
Amateur Astronomer (the only constellation I know is the belt of Orion...)
Vineyard Owner (Yes, feed me some wine)
Convert (Can't quite figure this one out - I'll have to read the article)
Glider (Don't know what this is about)
Tree Surgeon (Haven't inherited green fingers from my mum, so maybe not)
Poet (Not lyrical enough - I'll leave this to good friend Monoceros)
Protester (Later I kena arrested by Singapore gah-men then how?)
Ice cream vendor (better not - I might eat myself poor, not to mention fat)
Curler (NO idea what this is)
Human Statue (I'm too restless a person, so no go)
Life Model (Does that mean getting paid for just posing for artists and photographers? If so, I want. But I guess I'm not pretty enough!)
Chainsaw Carver (Er, maybe not. I might end up hurting myself, the klutz that I am)
Rural Tourism Adviser (Forget it - no such thing as "rural" in Singapore)
Pipe Aficionado (Sounds cool if these are musical pipes we're talking about)
Asparagus Grower (Ooh yes, I'd love to be a part-time farmer!)
Antique Clock Restorer (It's a cool job to be able to turn back time)

The labels that I would like for myself in an ideal world would probably be all these:

Food and travel writer
Epicurean
Traveller
Optimist
Hedonist
Taitai
Horse Whisperer
Dog trainer
Daughter
Sister
Friend
Wife
Mother

And what is/are your label(s)?

Peach Garden

It was my dad's 59th birthday on Friday and it was definitely an occasion worth celebrating considering what had happened just the month before. Dinner was at Peach Garden with my immediate family and a few relatives. For easy choosing, we went for the set dinner.

As with Chinese tradition, one has to start off with longevity buns.

Next up was Peking Duck. The skin was nice and crispy - no complaints there.

Of course, there was also the rather politically incorrect shark's fins. There was a substantial amount of it in each bowl, and I reckon that set our pocket back the most.

Then came this orange ball-like thing. I had no idea what it was until I bit into it.

It was actually some prawn cake sandwiched in between a scallop which was then deep-fried, and then coated with a layer of salted egg. The latter added an interesting note with its saltiness and powdery texture.

Steamed "Soon Hock" - the usual fare and nothing very exciting, though it tasted fresh.

Tiger prawn with sweet and sour sauce. I like prawns but I thought this sauce was a bit too sweet and masked the 'sweetness' of the meat.

The braised chicken was a disappointment - it tasted flat and the meat was rather tough. The ginger bits, ham, and sauce didn't help to lift its taste either. I would say this was the biggest disappointment of the dinner.

Surprisingly, the humble beehoon that was fried together with the meat from the skinned Peking Duck was really delicious. It had 'wok hei' and had the right amount of moisture that was infused with flavour.

Dessert was the Hong Kong dessert Yang Chi Kam Lok that contained mango, pomelo and sago in a mango cream mixture. I forgot to take a picture of that as I was caught up in eating the praline mousse cake that my uncle had bought for my dad. Anyway, the mango dessert wasn't exceptional; perhaps it's all due to the fact that I'm not a fan of milky cream-like stuff.

While the service at Peach Garden was impeccable, I was a little disappointed with the quality of food this time round. A few dishes in Friday's dinner were lacklustre and fell short of expectations. Not sure if I'm ready to go back any time soon...

Matcha Ice Cream

I love matcha (green tea) ice cream, but it's been an arduous, if not impossible, task to find a brand that sells really good matcha ice cream. More often than not, there is not enough taste of matcha in it, i.e. somewhat bitter that leaves this aftertaste on your palate. Many I've tried only have a trace of matcha taste in them - someone ought to tell the producers that having it green in colour just isn't good enough when there isn't robust enough a taste to supplement the colour.

The closest brand that has come to satisfying - somewhat anyway - me when I need a matcha ice cream fix is Haato, the gelato company from Japan. The matcha gelato is smooth and has a stronger taste of matcha than other brands I've tried.

Uzumaki, the soft serve ice cream brand that has booths in Orchard Cineleisure and Bugis Junction is overrated. The ice cream has barely a hint of matcha taste and isn't creamy enough. I'm not wasting another $4 on another one of their ice creams.

Haagen Daaz isn't too bad, but it's a little too sweet for my liking.

I guess the best is if one could make ice cream one's own ice cream. Alas, I don't have an ice cream maker - probably a good thing, otherwise I'll start ballooning up.

If anyone knows of a good place or brand for matcha ice cream, please let me know!

What Life Gives

I've been watching the American sitcom How I Met Your Mother which I absolutely love and in the last episode of the second season, the character Ted narrates a voice-over, saying this about life:

"For the most part, when you know what you want out of life, life often gives it to you."

I'd like to believe it, but as the years go by, I find it harder and harder to believe. Maybe I'm just a cynic. Or it could be that I'm too idealistic. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough. Maybe I'm somehow not doing the right things. Maybe I'm not meeting the right people.

Maybe dreams are meant to remain as dreams. Maybe it's just not meant to be.

Moon Cake Tasting at Yan Ting

I was pleasantly surprised one day when I received in my mailbox an invitation to a moon cake tasting and tea pairing session that took place last Wednesday. The event was hosted by Yahoo! Flickr and St Regis hotel and it was a small, intimate affair with a few other bloggers and Yahoo!'s Product Manager Suzanna Low and Community Manager Michelle Lee.

The St. Regis "delegate" also made us feel welcome with the warm and pleasant personalities of Wye Leng, the Director of Marketing Communications and Lorraine, the Senior Marketing Communications Executive. Danny Chan, Manager and Wine Sommelier of Yan Ting, explained to us in great detail about the ingredients of the different mooncakes and how different teas would go better with each type.

A pity that I arrived a whole hour late due to work commitments and couldn't take as many nice photos as I could have had I been there earlier. Nonetheless, I would direct you to the websites of SuperFineFeline, Camemberu, MilkMilk, and Food Recentrunes for much nicer pictures and a more detailed description of the mooncakes. They were a lot more diligent than I was in taking notes!!! Nonetheless, I managed to take some pictures.

The table was filled with tea cups as we sampled the different gourmet teas from Dammann Frères that Danny kept bringing our way. I liked the Soleil Vert (Green Sun) best. The PuEr tea was really good too.

I liked this one with the black sesame filling.

This traditional mooncake is the one with Chinese Ham (火腿) and nuts. It's an acquired taste as it's not as sweet as the ones, however I liked it.

This one's the Almond Snow Skin with Martell Cordon Bleu Cognac Truffle and Custard Paste. Phew, that was a mouthful. However I felt that the truffle overwhelmed the custard and snow skin and didn't quite like this one. But if you're a fan of chocolate and alcohol, go for this.

The most expensive mooncake of them all - Almond Snow Skin With Premium Bird's Nest and Custard Paste. Nice and light but be prepared to fork out $228 for 8 mini mooncakes.

All of us had a lovely time as we talked and laughed our way through the tasting and beyond (we adjourned to Nirai Kanai for dinner...hehe) and it was great to form new friendships with MilkMilk and Camemberu. And a huge thank you to Yahoo! Flickr and St Regis Yan Ting for hosting us!

If It Rains On a Weekday Morning

There should an employment law stating that people should be allowed to do one of the following if it rains heavily on a weekday morning:

a. Sleep in and not go to work (my most preferred option of course)
b. Work from home
c. Wait till the rain stops before heading out of the house

I don't like rainy mornings!

My Blood Type

My Blood Type is one of those restaurants that's riding on this fad about eating according to one's blood type. Located in the heart of the central business district along Market Street, this restaurant sells health supplements as well.

Before handing you the menu, the waiter will ask what your blood type is. After telling him, he hands you a menu labelled 'A', 'B', 'O' or 'AB'. The 'A's have it the worst - they aren't supposed to eat meat, and are supposed to eat only vegetables and seafood. Thankfully for me, being a 'B', I can eat meat. Hurray...what would I do without meat??? Anyway, the food's supposed to be healthy and has low calories...the menu even puts down the number of calories and all the nutritional information. To me, that just screams 'AWFUL FOOD'!!!

I had the celery & carrot soup as a starter. This was bland and very dilute. When asked for black pepper to add a tad more flavour to the soup, I was told that they don't serve black pepper. Great. Seriously, what kind of restaurant doesn't have black pepper???

My main was the braised lamb shank with sweet potato mash, long beans and brussels sprouts. This was actually quite tasty. At least it was salty enough and the lamb was tender.

Dessert was rojak with molasses. The molasses tasted weird and made the rojak smell like some kind of medicine. Still, someone should tell the management that rojak isn't a dessert!!!

I remain unconvinced about this eat-according-to-your-blood-type diet. In any case, I certainly won't be patronising this restaurant again - food on the whole wasn't fantastic, service was extremely slow (we waited ages for our food to arrive), and it's expensive. The set menu costs $25+++ while a main on the a la carte menu costs about $36+++ on average.

Feeling unsatisfied with lunch, dinner then had to be a guilty affair. Guess where I went for dinner? Brotzeit for German beer and sausages! Bring on the fat and booze baby! Now THAT's what I call real food - it was thoroughly and utterly satisfying. :)

Dreams Reflect Reality

You know how they say dreams are a reflection of one's life? Last night I dreamt that I missed a flight to Beijing. Don't ask me why Beijing - I put it down to the fact that I used to travel to Beijing in my previous job.

In my dream, I remember that my flight was supposed to be scheduled at 11.38 (maybe I should buy 4D using this number today). But at 10.50 I was still in the taxi and in a frenzy. I even got the taxi to go to the wrong airport terminal and forgot to take my luggage as I got out at Terminal 1. The taxi driver was running after me with my baggage in tow as I was at the counter check-in and was told that I was supposed to be at Terminal 2 instead. So I rushed back to the taxi and got to Terminal 2, only to be told that I was too late for check-in.

I attributing this dream to the fact that I know I'm going to have a stressful week ahead. I have lots of editorial deadlines to meet and it's all dependent on people getting information to me. I hate it that I'm in no position to do anything sometimes. If they don't send me the information, I'm screwed. Chasing them doesn't seem to help in them disseminating the information. Bleh.