正 宗 炭 烧 (Authentic Charcoal Roast)

Source of heat (or fire, as the Chinese would put it) aside, it is the skill that perfects a roast. One look at the result and I was amazed at how well the slices of pork belly looked. Every surface was equally cooked (one can tell from the consistent shade of burgundy on the pieces of meat) and burnt edges were minimal. Of course there are those who prefer the charred bits for crunch and aroma but in terms of skill, I guess it is technically more challenging to keep the char siew tender yet unburnt than to produce a melting soft texture with a carbonized exterior.

The lean cut.

Fatty.

When it comes to KL-style wanton mee, the emphasize has always been on the thick, sweet dark soy sauce which customarily defines a good bowl of gorn low meen. In my humble opinion, it is the lard oil that fuels the taste. Here, one can expect lots of it, complete with those crunchy fried bits. Great indulgence.

The stall cooks up an impressive array of dishes despite the rather limited space. There's also a magic pot that stores Teochew-style braise of innards and eggs. Though not the best that I've tried, the intestines, which came soft and flavourful, were good.

I should complement the condiment of coarsely chopped garlic and ginger as well. Served with coriander and a dash of sesame oil, it was really tasty.

Conveniently located along the main road and just next to a wet market, it's a favourite among the lunch crowd. With another famous siew yoke stall just some metres away, I don't see why I need to travel all the way to town for a good piece of meat on those carnivorous yet lazy days aka everyday.

A good find that's worth alerting fellow babitarians.

正 宗 炭 烧 (Authentic Charcoal Roast)
Taman Kok Doh Hawker Centre
Jalan 17/42
Taman Kok Doh, Segambut
51200 Kuala Lumpur

Tell-A-Tale (Part 44): HIStory

Over the past week, I've been catching up with old friends, really old friends and the one inevitable topic that we discussed was the departure of Michael Jackson.

Circa 1983-84 was a great time for pop music. What would a pre-school kid like me know about music back then, you might ask. Well, for one, I remember the choruses of some songs that were nominated for a Grammy that year (1984). There was a show on public television that played the videos of those songs and a relative actually recorded it on an audio cassette which later became a prized possession of mine. Back then, I would play the tape on what we called a mini-compo that worked on power of less than 15 watts. It was a lightweight, flat, mono-stereo Sanyo. So, you can imagine how fascinated I was when I first heard of a 1000 watts sound system from Sharp back in the early 90s. But the Sanyo was good enough for someone who couldn't differentiate the treble from the bass until he started keeping sideburns.

I can't remember the sequence of the recorded songs now but there was the mellow Every Breath You Take by The Police. And Billy Joel's Uptown Girl from his An Innocent Man album. It was also the year of Flashdance, which I believe I'd watched at the Rex cinema along Jalan Sultan, Chinatown. The smash introduced Irene Cara's What A Feeling and Michael Sembello's Maniac to the world. And for some strange reasons, the sight of those sweat socks that girls wear these days reminded me of the two songs a lot. It was also the year when I couldn't decide who was scarier-looking; Annie Lennox from the Eurythmics or Boy George. But of course, one can't deny the catchy, synthesizing beats of Sweet Dreams (remember the cows in the video?) and the slightly reggae-influenced Karma Chameleon. Lionel Richie had it big too, that year, with All Night Long. David Bowie said Let's Dance, remember?

And there was Beat It by Michael Jackson.

Who could forget the simple phrase that took the world by storm. I really thought it was about beating each other up (the video was suggestive of that). You can't blame me. I was only an innocent kid who knew of nothing but good hokkien mee from the Pekeliling flats back then. It was later in life that I understood the meaning of that song. Eddie Van Halen's guitar solo only made the song more powerful, with a rock edge. Who was Billie Jean? It was another song that I didn't understand as well. But the soundscape of it all, including the funky bass line, was just too amazing that one can't help but groove along. And that moonwalk! A perfect blend of pop and R&B, it remained as one of my favourite Michael Jackson songs (remixed or not).

We were in primary school when Bad was released. While Smooth Criminal, Bad and Dirty Diana were the most popular singles from that album, it was Man In The Mirror that had an impact on many of us. The poignant song had traveled with us to leadership camps and other school functions. In my list of cool, uplifting songs, I placed it only slightly below U2's awesome One. If the melodies of the song (got to love the electronic keyboard-led intro) doesn't hit you, the words will.

If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place
Take A Look At Yourself
And Then Make A Change

While his subsequent albums were deemed to be less successful than Thriller and Bad, I thought there was progressive maturity in song choices. Gone were the mainstream pop tunes and came urbanized beats that were rather cool. My personal favourites were Stranger In Moscow (which I thought had a slight trip-hop element in it), You Rock My World and Blood On The Dancefloor.

The King Of Pop will be missed for there will only be one who can dance, sing and be Michael Jackson. But I guess on the positive side, we should believe that his legacy will continue to evolve with time through artists whom were inspired by him; like Ne-Yo, Justin Timberlake and Usher.

In our conversations, we confessed that we were not big fans of The Gloved One but it was through music icons like him that we had memories, good and bad memories that reminded us of the friendship we shared.

So, thank you Michael Jackson, for adding to the unforgettable moments of our lives.

We shall celebrate your legacy soon with a karaoke session of nothing but your songs. And we hope to do you proud!

Tell-A-Tale (Part 43): To Bake A Mockingbird (Cake)

I know you want me (want me)
you know I want cha (want cha)
I know you want me
You know I want cha (want cha)

(Hahaha)
one-two-three-four
Uno-do'-tres-cuatro

Rumba (Si)
Ella quiere su Rumba (Como?)
Rumba (Si)
Ella quiere si Rumba (Como?)

The music blared and I was shaking 'mah hips when my phone rang. There was no caller ID nor number displayed. I picked up the call to discover that it was a woman on the other side of the line and expected it to be one of those phony calls which usually start with a something like Congratulations, you have just won yourself a car! Please give me your bank account number for identification. None of that in this call but strangely, she sounded like a tweeting bird.

Me: Wei? (in absolute Canto style)
Caller: *Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet*
Me: Who this? What you talk???
Caller: *Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet*
Me: *Getting impatient*
Caller: *Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet*
Me: Burn in the oven with your tweets, damn bird!

And I disconnected myself from the madness.

Burn in the oven.

Oh gosh, my mockingbird WAS really burning in the oven! The instruction called for 180 degrees for 45 minutes but I was already 15 minutes late! I blame the addictive songs on the radio that morning. Rushing to the kitchen, I noticed that the convection oven was still humming in its usual manner but the glass panel had shattered. The mockingbird was gone.

She-bird called (or should I say tweeted) again, at this very wrong time. I was mostly pissed and didn't hesitate to greet her with some maternal curses, again, in true Cantonese fashion. She resonated to my wrath and hung up.

I felt a sudden surge in heat. A shadow was growing on the wall in front of me. It was my own silhouette. I turned to face a monster. It was a giant flying bird on fire, almost the size of an adult golden retriever. The immense brightness from the fire was blinding. It flew towards me and I knew that there was no way that I could survive. The bird would peck me to death while my hairy skin burn. My barbecued self would feed the bird well for days, given the size of my thighs and belly. And it would definitely appreciate the aroma of my layers of slightly charred, succulent fat. (Think melt-in-the-mouth roasted pork belly from Ah Wong or char siew from FSF).

As much as I hoped that Megan Fox would come to my rescue (in her bike), I was prepared to burn and be devoured. Just don't glaze me with malt syrup after I'm grilled, like how they do char siew. I hate stickiness, in every sense.

The bird got closer. I bit my lips and kept my eyes shut.

It stopped, somewhere about one metre in front of me. Shocked, I opened my eyes, only to be blinded by the violent radiance of the fire once more.

*Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet*

What now???

*Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet*

Huh, meh ar???

YOU ARE LATE, HAIRY!!!

And I jumped out of bed.

-----

It's amazing what excitement can do to you. First come restlessness. Then, dreams (both good and bad). I dreamt about she-bird just a few hours before attempting my first mockingbird cake. Not a hummingbird as I substituted oil with butter. And neither brown sugar nor cinnamon powder was used. Before going into the details of my experience, let me thank Fatboybakes (FBB) again for his constructive and practical recipe. Believe me, I've tried recipes of some famous TV chefs and my cakes turned into porridge or stones without fail.

So, back to the cake. I had a terrible experience baking with canned pineapple cubes before. My cake turned out absolutely soggy, even after draining and squeezing the cubes with my hands. This time, I roasted them in the oven until the edges browned to remove the excess liquid and to give it a slight caramelised taste. Hand-crushed pecan and walnuts were toasted as well for the crunch. Dessicated coconut was added for that grainy texture but there was not much flavour though. Will definitely try the grated Hawaiian type next time. A tablespoon of vanilla extract to give it a nice flavour. The rest of the ingredients were referred to FBB's recipe. As for the topping, the initial plan was to do a proper layer of cream cheese/icing sugar/butter/vanilla blend but since I was running out of time, I resorted to a simple cup of cream cheese spread instead. Personally, I thought it was good enough and more affordable (RM2 lesser than a 250 grams block of cream cheese).

The result was pretty ok, I thought. I like the contrasting moist cake/crunchy nuts combination. Lots of room for improvement though. For example, I will need to add more bananas for the exotic scent. The cake could have been fluffier too. Perhaps a blend of brown and castor sugar will give a more interesting taste. Oooh, how about some kahlua in the cake? The possibilities are endless but I just have to find the time to bake. Meanwhile, there's always the perfect hummingbird cake from The Daily Grind when craving calls. Will blog about that wonderful piece of cake soon!

Click here for FBB's mockingbird cake recipe.

Like what you see? Then join the FatBoyBakes Fan Club by clicking here.

Click here for The Daily Grind's website.

OHHHHH! Before I forget, the whole fire birdie saga was fictitious (obviously). The story was made up to relate the on-going tag (where one has to start a post with the opening line decided by the tagger) to my latest baking experience. I was tagged by TheNomadGourmand (the song and first line was chosen by her) and I will now tag Joe of Lotsofcravings. Joe, you have to begin your next post with:

"They have been contained for two weeks. But the durians managed to escape from Sungai Buloh with the help of the rambutans. It all started..."

Have fun!

Yoshimaru Ramen Bar

It was early autumn of 2003 when my colleague brought me to a ramen shop in Osaka. He told me that the shop was part of a famous chain which originated from Hakata, Fukuoka. The high influx of patrons was overwhelming and it took us about 15 minutes to secure a few adjacent seats at the large, lacquered communal table which looked rather synthetic. If it was made of timber, the tree must have been really old, judging from the number of annual rings accumulated on the truncated surface. On it were sets of condiments to go with the ramen like pickled ginger and sesame seeds.

Definitely love at first taste, that bowl of tonkotsu ramen. The milky white broth, which was boiled for hours (causing the pork bones, fat and collagen to literally melt), was rich and wonderfully flavoursome. Garnished with simple yet aromatic ingredients like scallion and sesame seeds/oil, it was completeness at its best. For a little contrast, takana or pickled mustard greens was added. Some fat cuts of char siew complemented the rich broth really well.

Since then, I have not found a credible competition. Miharu at Gallery Hotel was a local favourite of mine as the soup was dense and had a really nice fried garlic flavour. But that itself was a miso-tonkotsu hybrid, not the authentic Hakata version. The rest were simply exaggerated with a high level of salt and/or MSG.

Yoshimaru is not the name of that memorable ramen shop in Osaka but apparently, another famous ramen chain from Japan. We’ve been showered with imported ramen chains in this part of the world recently. And that’s good news, of course.

The word bar itself suggests a more contemporary approach towards ramen appreciation but to the hardcore ramen fans, the only thing that matters is the taste. So, bring on the signature dish already!

I had the Moridakusan Ramen which was basically topped with almost every ingredient that Yoshimaru offers, including soft boiled egg, cloud ear mushroom or kikurage, mentaiko, takana, nori sheets and char siew. The broth was tad mild in taste but very satisfying, nevertheless. Oh, and not much MSG too. I would have called this Kiasu Ramen instead because there were just too many toppings and some I deemed, were rather unnecessary. The mentaiko, for example. Its fresh, briny taste didn't help in accentuating the overall taste of the broth. In fact, the lump of red eggs got tragically drowned in it instead. And I never found nori sheets any helpful in a bowl of ramen, to be honest. The ramen was cooked just right and rather smooth, so that was good.

While the genial Mentaiko Mayo Prawn Burger was delicious despite the smaller-than-my-fist size, I thought the gyoza could do better with a more generous filling and seasoning. Back to the burger, now this is how mentaiko should be applied. Slightly salty, the cream-dressed roes went really well with the crispy batter and greens.

Check out the menu and be fascinated by the attractive presentation and variety of ramen and mini burgers. That itself will guarantee a subsequent visit. Let's not forget the tonkotsu ramen (sans all the irrelevant toppings) as well because it's simply good and that's rare in this part of town, I think.

As we slurped the ramen loudly in that tiny ramen shop in Osaka, I was told that besides Hakata and its infamous tonkotsu ramen, the Fukuoka prefecture is also famous for its musical talents. Like Ayumi Hamasaki. That got us going on and on about J-Pop and personal favourites. After finishing the last drop of that orgasmic potion, we helped ourselves to another pint of Asahi before calling it a night.

I've lost contact with that colleague of mine since I changed my job. And most unfortunately, I've also lost the name of that ramen shop that perhaps will always remain as my favourite tonkotsu ramen of all time. One of the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life, for sure!

Yoshimaru Ramen Bar
31 Lorong Liput
Holland Village
Singapore 277742
Tel: (+65) 6463 3132
Website: http://www.yoshimaruramen.com.sg/index.html

Check out other reviews on Yoshimaru:
Keropokman
Liquid Shadow
Southernoise Gluttony
The Travelling HungryBoy

Kafe Beriani Gam Putrajaya

There was a small stage on the extreme end of the shack. It had an amateurish feel to it, complete with colourful lightings that used to amaze us back in the eighties. You know, those orange and green and red tinted bulbs. The first thought that ran in my mind was that the stage serves as some sort of platform for budding artists to showchase their talents come lunch or dinner time. And I thought that was really cool.

We were having lunch at Kafe Beriani on the afternoon of the Malaysian F1 Grand Prix. A pretty good choice, relatively speaking, as I was sure food at the circuit would be jacked up beyond the decibels of the roaring engines. And to be honest, if not for the race, I wouldn't have found a good reason to travel all the way to this part of the world to gam with the beriani.

As we settled down to try what appeared to be a (huge) plate of rather mildly coloured grains and decorated with a handful of crackers, Zaiton Sameon was about to take the stage. If you have lived through the eighties in Malaysia (and Singapore, to an extend), you would have heard her name at least once. Or more specifically, her infamous song called Menaruh Harapan. As we saw her, it hadn't crossed our minds that she was to perform that afternoon. We simply thought she was there to buy some berianis.

Then, backed by a band of musicians, she began to sing. There were less than a dozen watching her perform but she kept on going, with the same poise we witnessed back in the days of Juara Lagu 1987. One has got to respect this artist for still choosing to do what she loved as the twenty over odd years after Menaruh Harapan had not been easy on her. I wish the best for her in the future, be it in her music career or in life.

Back on our table, the food looked appetising. Well, almost everything red do. There's a good selection of meat to complement the rice. We had the chicken and mutton, which both came in huge cuts. Taste-wise, rather mild if you ask me. And that's quite disappointing as the essentials to a good curry (regardless of culture and cooking styles) include just a simple, sufficient blend of spices. Definitely would have been better had a heavier dosage of flavouring spices been added to the curries. On the bright side, both meats were well-cooked and softly flaky. Served warm as well.

The free-flowing dalcar that came with the rice was a happy potion. Fatty, but definitely happy as it was really flavoursome. One could almost see the half centimetre thick of glistening oil covering the mutton and dhal stew. We have a better word for that. Yes, rich. Now, why can't the mutton and chicken curries be as tasty as this? I drenched the rice with one whole bowl of dalcar and that was really satisfying. No regrets as I burnt it all out walking around the circuit and dashing to the carpark as the rain began to pour, when the race came to a halt.

Tad expensive too, if you ask me. At RM13 for the mutton and RM11 for the chicken sets, I would've expected a more memorable (tastier) gam. I could only applaud the solid portions.

As for the trip down memory lane, now that was something else.

Something good.

Kafe Beriani Gam Putrajaya
Lot Sub 4
Jalan Kajang-Puchong
Mukim Dengkil
43000 Sepang

Click here for Bangsar-Babe's review.

Komala's @ Peninsula Plaza

A few firsts for me that night; curries served in plastic cups, Indian vegetarian fastfood chain in Singapore and two cheerful Chinese staffs greeting me at the collection counter. How fun!

Komala. Komala. Komala. Komala. Komala.

I don’t recall repeating a name for the longest time. The last was when I chanted to Kula Shaker’s brilliant, psychedelic Govinda. Anyway, Komala’s the name of the babe restaurant that kept running in my mind ever since I saw their signboard as I exited the neighbouring Inle, a Burmese restaurant. Besides Komala, I knew I’ll be back again, to the Basement 1 level of Peninsula Plaza for the good selection of interesting food. There’s even a little charp farn (mixed rice) restaurant serving Burmese dishes.

At S$7.70 each, the South Indian and Briyani Poori sets were the most expensive items on the menu. Both include a Coke but the real thing here has got to be a cup of masala chai, right? I had it replaced, of course.

It was a wise choice to select two different sets as both came with distinctive dips and curries. With the South Indian set, I got my usual rasam, thairu, chutney and payasam as dessert. The Briyani Poori set came with chickpeas and dhal curries. A mix and match of the sauces with both the white and spiced rice was a complete meal by itself. A flavourful and complementary one at that, although the briyani could do better with a more generous dash of salt and spices. Pooris (yes, they came in twos!) were served hot and fragrant. Colourful, cooked vegetables lined the side of the South Indian set and I found the carrot/pumpkin stir-fry the most interesting as it was mostly sweet. Oh, there was even a cabbage salad which I almost mistaken for a coleslaw! That was good too.

Being fastfood means it is mass produced and that taste will be generic. But it’s another story when it’s generically good. Ahhh.....

Look at it this way; how many times have we been unhappy with the same favourite burgers from the same favourite fastfood chains? Almost never, right? Ok, let’s not get into the shrinkage issue lah.

Komala’s cool simply because the food is nice and comforting, especially the South Indian Set. With a menu that boosts a few staple snacks and pulaos, I think I might just be back here again soon.

Ok, right after I try the Burmese charp farn.

Komala's Restaurant
111 North Bridge Road
# B1-07C Peninsula Plaza,
Singapore 179098,
Telephone: (+65) 63335644.
Website: http://www.komalasweb.com/

Madras Café

We love our Italian (more specifically, Porto Romano at Mont Kiara). And Chinese as well. You can say that we are a gluttonous family. But we do have disagreements come dinner time. With momma around, Indian food is out of the question (although she wouldn’t mind a piece of roti canai with dhal curry or thosai for supper) while dad will avoid the famous fried chicken like the plague. And they can count me out with everything durian. Pretty much dysfunctional, aren’t we? Now, pass us the quattro stagioni pizza.

There came last Sunday when momma had dinner plans.

Indian rice!

We jubilated, in Cantonese.

The initial plan was to check out Indian Kitchen at Bangsar but traffic can get really congested at dinner time. Instead, dad suggested our usual stall next to St. James Kindergarten along Jalan Ipoh, not far from the Sentul police station. As much as I love the food there, I thought we would be better off checking out a more special place since we don’t get to do this often. So, came my idea of revisiting Madras Café, which is a few hundred metres away from St. James.

Just the location itself brought back some good old memories. As kids, my friends and I would peek into the Sri Dhandayuthanapani temple right across the café, from the overhead bridge. Between the grills, we were able to an interesting variety of birds, including peacocks, housed in temple’s garden. Most of my childhood friends got their primary education from the school (of the same name) next to the temple. I was one of the rare ones to have gained admission into a missionary school. And when the first air-conditioned minimarket starting running somewhere behind the café, we would be there everyday. Just the purchase of some cheap ice cream sticks or chewing gum would make us happy. It’s the LED and beeping of the cashier machine that intrigued us more (until the day we discovered barcode scanners). I can go on and on about this place but well, let’s just focus on the café for now.

It’s one of the oldest Indian restaurants in this area. According to dad, it was a favourite lunch spot among the workers at the KTM station in Sentul. As the years progressed, the restaurant was upgraded and had even installed an air-conditioning system. The façade we see today is rather classy, with the erection of a stall selling Indian snacks and mee goreng. Somehow, the bright and loud Mathura’s (a large Indian convenience store) had silenced the presence of Madras Café.

Ask any of my Indian classmates and they’ll rave about this restaurant. The poor students that we were could only afford to dine here on special occasions. Ever hungry, our arm-length banana leaves were often topped with a mountain of white rice. And we would flood it with free flowing curried gravies. But now that we’ve started making a decent living, we can’t afford the time. Nor the occasion.

I’ve noticed changes on the night of our visit. It was quieter, as compared to a decade ago where the streets would be filled with small eateries and loud Tamil or Hindi music. Instead of locals, there are now groups of foreign workers mingling around the area.

Smilingly, the staff who attended to us offered to reheat the some of the dishes. We cook it hot-hot again, he said. Indeed, the cabbage and potato cubes looked steaming hot on our banana leaves. We started off with our favourite amuse bouche of all time, rasam. Then, small plates of pre-ordered dishes started filling up the table. They should have refried the peria and cauliflower as well because the batter was already rather soggy, despite the good taste. I should compliment the mutton varuval for its spiciness. And when served with a slight smoky taste (which I have no idea where it came from), was ambrosia personified. Wish I could say the same about the chicken varuval though. When the white rice stopped pouring, came a big splash of chicken curry to bind them all with a spicy, aromatic flavour.

They said it was a special cup of masala chai. Well, perhaps they thought that I had never tasted masala chai before. Nevertheless, it was a good cup of tea, with just the right proportion of cardamon, ginger and sugar.

On a Saturday night, it was rather empty. But business can't be bad, judging from the generously wide range of dishes on display. The café must be catering more to the lunch crowd, I guess. The meal cost us about RM28, which was more expensive that our usual banana leaf rice set. Then again, with ambiance of nothing less than of a café (complete with air-conditioning), it was worth the revisit. Think of it this way; just a plate of spaghetti carbonara will cost one more than RM10 these days.

If it's all about bonding over good food, then we had celebrated this year's Father's Day at Madras Café.

Happy Father's Day.

Madras Café
(Next to Mathura's, before turning into Jalan Kovil Hilir at the traffic light)
Jalan Ipoh
Batu 3
51200 Kuala Lumpur.

Tell-A-Tale (Part 42): Where Lunch Is Lunches

Did I just smell truffle?

Japanese tomato, vanilla bean foam and fava beans.

Cold angel hair pasta, topped with Oscietra caviar.

Poached white asparagus, Bouchot mussels and dressed in Hollandaise sauce.

Oven roasted Côte de Boeuf with Bordelaise sauce.

Fine apple tart a la dragées, rum raisin ice-cream.

It was love at first scent, the cold pasta. The truffle oil coat was invigorating, to say the least. And when served with caviar for that tinge of salt and bubbly texture, it was gorgeousness with every bite. I think I wiped the plate clean with some bread. This will be the dish to come back for. Take away the Bordelaise sauce and the Côte de Boeuf will still be good. A sprinkling of salt enhanced the flavour of the roast, complete with slight aromatic char.

Chef Gunther had prepared a 4-course menu for this event, the annual food bloggers lunch. At S$45 nett, it was a good deal. Just look at their online menu and you'll know what I mean. A privilege indeed, especially when signature dishes were served, like the cold pasta and tart.

Lunch was fun, to say the least. I got to meet many new faces whom I've came to know through blogs and spent some good time catching up with my usual eating kakis. Oh, I should not forget the endless talks on photography as well.

Thank you very much, LadyIronChef and Haute Stuff for the wonderful time. It takes a lot of effort and time to organize an event of this scale. Great lucky draw gifts as well!

It would've been a waste to not check out other eateries along Purvis Street. We were such slutty gluttons. Haha! Hence, the second lunch of the lunches with Camemberu, KeropokMan and Momo, HungryCow and Ivan.

We decided on chicken rice as it was a more substantial choice and Chin Chin is, afterall, a restaurant with history. So, that's very cool.

Half black, half white, said the aunty in Hokkien which literally translated to roasted and poached chicken in half, each. I enjoyed the black as it was more flavourful. The winner has got to be the mutton stew in claypot. Tender pieces of meat cooked in a reduction that came with a hint of five-spice powder. The only disappointment for me was the Hokkien Mee which seemed confusing and very much salty. Neither the prawn version nor KL-style, it really reminded me of Hainanese noodle!

I think we spent a good hour or two at Chin Chin, talking about good (and bad) food and well, food-related subjects. Like geography. It was a great second lunch of lunches, definitely.

Good times like these should be made more often.

GUNTHER'S
36 Purvis Street #01-03
Singapore 188613
Tel: (+65) 63388955
Website:http://www.gunthers.com.sg/

CHIN CHIN HAINANESE CHICKEN RICE
19 Purvis Street
Singapore 188598
Tel: (+65) 63374640

Tell-A-Tale (Part 41): And Forever More, That's How You'll Stay...

Lianne was one of the earliest people I met at my first gathering of bloggers back in December 2007. Together with a few other foodies, the excited we just kept on talking about food until the organizers had kindly requested us to take our seats. I remember her speaking of her boyfriend, whom was still accustoming to the Asian palate and their plan to drop by Singapore the year after. And what was I to do when I hear the word Singapore? I gave her a list of my favourite restaurants in town, of course. We didn’t meet up though, as I was back in Kuala Lumpur for the Lunar New Year celebration.

In between potlucks and gatherings, I’ve read about her travels to Germany to meet her boyfriend and their wonderful trips across Europe. One can only be happy and envious at the same time. Haha! News of an engagement and subsequently, a marriage, came not long after.

On the way to their wedding dinner at Hilton KL Sentral, I jokingly told Lyrical Lemongrass of my expectation of weddings these days. The presentations, songs, themes and food. How interesting it will be to have an Indian lunch reception and Malay cuisine for dinner, I suggested. Well, if there is ever one such, please invite me.

At the Munich table (yes, they named the tables after some of the most famous cities in Germany), there were jokes, pokes and everything fun. Well, one can or should expect nothing less than that at a table full of food-loving bloggers. It was definitely a good reunion of friends, some whom I’ve not seen in a long time.

And there was music. No, nothing boyband nor Celine Dion. Katie Melua’s cool Nine Million Bicycles kicked off the wedding while Nat King Cole’s serenading L.O.V.E. and David Tao’s soulful 月亮代表谁的心 accompanied the video presentations.

The dishes that night were exquisite. I can still remember the deep-fried chicken with lemon sauce/sesame seeds and the fragrant fried rice with chicken wrapped in lotus leaf. The sticky rice tasted even more interesting when Nigel told us to coat it with chopped scallion. In between, there were beers (which Fatboybakes and I totally dug), proseccos and reds. As the dinner came to an end, Lianne supplied us with some delicious stroopwafels. To have the sweet Dutch snack with prosecco was awesome.

Ah, it’s everywhere, this thing called love. It brought about a deep sense of appreciation towards food and through it all, gathered those who share the same affection for deliciousness, before flourishing into a something special called friendship. And transcending oceans via fibre-optic cables, has united this wonderful couple whom used to live thousands of miles apart.

Congratulations, Lianne and Jürgen. Here’s wishing you both a blessed marriage and a wonderful life ahead.

Let there be you, let there be me
Let there be oysters under the sea
Let there be wind, an occasional rain
Chile con care, sparkling champagne.

Let there be birds to sing in the trees
Someone to bless me whenever I sneeze
Let there be cuckoos, a lark and a dove
But first of all, please let there be love.

- Let There Be Love, Nat King Cole -

Tell-A-Tale (Part 40): A Slice Of Heaven

Go towards the light.....

.....where the clouds shine bright.

A blue invite.....

.....with a delicious tree in sight.

Just heavenly, you recite.....

.....and yearn for a big, big bite.

Of heaven.....

.....that comes in a slice.

A Slice of Heaven
(by Just Heavenly)
Jaya One
Blk E, B2
No. 72A Jalan Universiti
46200, Petaling Jaya