A bite of class

On normal days, my lunch will cost something less than a red hued note. If I'm lucky enough, I can even walk away with a fed tummy thanks to a green slip. For Fridays however, I tend to over-indulge myself. There will be a main course, a drink and one dessert, a combination that easily sets me back with one big satisfying (and yet, discreet) burp and the lone RM50 flying to the till. I may get some change in return but the purse somehow then loses its shine.

 

So there I was, dipping my breaded fish fillet and chips into the tartar sauce at one of my favourite cafes. It's a far cry from my usual marinara spaghetti, a choice that was compelled by an innocent question by the shop owner. When he said 'Leng lui, are you ordering the same thing this week too?, I had to prove him wrong. All bets are off as my eyes scanned the menu and my mind shrieking 'No Marinara!' before the finger points at Fish & Chips. It took the whole 3 scoops of chocolate ice-cream with whipped cream and chocolate sauce later to convince me that Marinara can wait another week.

Still recovering from the throes of despair, I did what a reasonable person is expected to do nowadays - surfed the net using iPhone.  And boy, that's the second mistake I did. What greeted me, and I simply had the itch to click on it, was the headline screaming 'A meal at the most expensive restaurant in the world costs US$600!' From a person who thought RM50 for lunch was already grand, I now know my station in life. It's a far, far, far cry from those who can spend RM1800 for a fleeting culinary masterpiece.

While I've had the privilege of visiting those three cities, I've to admit with much regret that I never once had the opportunity to dine in either Kitcho in Kyoto (listed as the number 1 most expensive restaurant. At US$600 per person, it is reverently described as the high temple of 'kaiseki'. Although my vocabulary doesn't go beyond 'Set Lunch/Dinner Deals' and the likes, kaiseki is a style of traditional Japanese cuisine consisting of a series of small, intricate dishes), Le Meurice in Paris (number 2 on the list. At US$509 per person, one is allowed to be transported back to the pomp & splendour  of Louis & Marie Antoinette. Well, at least before the Dauphin and the Dauphine had their unceremonious date with Madame Guillotine in 1793) and Masa in New York (at US$450 per person, it is number 3 on the must-go places when one dates in the Big Apple). How's that for a bite of class?

Anyway, I don't think I'll ever step foot on their hallowed grounds. Unless who knows, they decide to run a kitchen soup for weary travellers. Till that day arrives on my doorstep, the nearest I've ever been to these food temples are the Michelin starred restaurants in Singapore's Marina Bay Sands. It's not to say I've actually eaten their delectable morsels but rather, just having enough courage to pause by their restaurant entrance and take a quick look at the menus. Such courage was easily defeated by the sight of their prices for the entrees and completely evaporated at how much I need to pay for their mains. As a customary practice, I'll move on to either the nearby food court or Krazy Burgers, places where the Singapore dollars will not hurt me more than it should.

To top my misery, I've just realised I'm booked for three consecutive weekend wedding dinners in December. If there's a fourth or more invite, I've to set my priorities right. Need to worry about how much is the ongoing rate for wedding ang paos than a meal prepared by a Michelin starred chef!

 

 

 

Wishing

I've tried (desperately) to hang on to my age but yesterday came and despite me being thankful I'm alive and well, the life calendar now shows a new page. 2-8. *Cue* you may now sing me a birthday song and bring in the cake. Clap! Clap!

Yes, it was my 28th birthday, just in case you're still curious. Unfortunately, the date that has just passed really didn't mean anything except for the part where -

(a) there's only one more birthday before I turn a decade older. But then again, as a friend had helpfully pointed out, we grow older every day (and since we're at it, by the seconds and minutes too) and not only by the year or even decade;

(b) I'm now officially a year older than Mama's age when she gave birth to me. That's another feather to my cap after I turned 25 and still no signs of the other half (much less a walk down the aisle). You see, Mama settled down at 25. And if I'm to consider myself really accomplished, I just found out from Mama that my late maternal grandmother had given birth to 7 kids by the age of 28. So if the world puts me, Mama and Tok Mak on the same timeline, I would definitely know where I stand;

(c) even when I'm inching closer to my third decade, there are moments when I feel like time has not passed by at all. I will always be my parents' daughter, the one whose expressions remain unchanged from her toddler days. Like Abah said, I'm blessed to be able to turn milk into yoghurt just by staring at it, haha. And despite the steady increase in age, my parents will always be able to see through my mood swings, sorrow and heartache regardless of the masks I tried to fool them with. To them, I think I will always be the little girl who moved together with them into our present (and only) house. Back then and before the birth of my sisters, I was alone and the only friends I had were our neighbours' boys who are of the same age as me. My parents, especially Abah, enjoy recounting (and perhaps embellishing) stories about how I would sit by the drain and call out those boys for conversations through our then wire-fences.

And even if I'm earning my own money right now, no amount would be sufficient to stop Abah from reminiscing about the day I had offered to treat both of them with Nasi Ayam. I believe I was around 4 years old and had with me, a crisp 10 ringgit note. According to Abah, he asked me whether I was ok in treating them lunch and I said yes. When it was time to pay, the little girl gave her 10 ringgit and had a crestfallen look when the Nasi Ayam seller didn't return the 10 ringgit to her. What she received instead was loose change, a fact which she could not comprehend despite agreeing to treat her parents earlier. So Abah had to fish out his own money, return the crisp 10 ringgit note to the daughter and the story became a permanent fixture in my history. Some say it's a story of plain cheapskate-ness. I prefer to see it as appreciation of economic reality at a young age. To my credit, I would always emphasise that when my special day comes (if any), I would personally foot the bill for two plates of Nasi Ayam for my parents!;

(d) I received gifts from my sisters and friends. Like today, I received in my mail, a canvas print from Syazwina who's still in Tasmania for her architorture course (pun intended). She didn't mention she had a gift in store for me but Abah had spilled the beans the day before, haha. Before you say it's just a canvas print, let me point out one small but very significant detail. The photograph was taken by my own sister! Impressive, eh? And note the cute grey card, also handcrafted with love, hahaha.


Syazana, on the other hand, had passed my birthday gift to a friend who had visited Korea, in advance. However, despite her reminders and my friend's reminders (must be weird for him to keep on holding to a girl's accessories), I never did manage to retrieve my birthday present. I think now would be a good time for me to give my friend a tinker.

And thanks to the generosity of two friends, I will be watching Chris Botti performing with the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra on 6 December 2011! One of them tried to fool me by saying they got a ticket free but hey, I could not be expected to fall for that, right? Since I knew there's nothing free in that part of the world (I should know, I've been a subscriber for quite some time). Anyway, YTS & TGG, thank you!;


(e) friends and acquaintances remembered my birthday and left me with birthday wishes. While I'm never one for reminding people of that 1 day and harping on presents, I do believe technology has eroded my faith in the age-old saying 'It's the thought that counts!'. Before facebook came into our lives, I knew for sure only my immediate family and a super small group of friends actually remembered my birth date. While the number of wishes may be minute, I knew that when they wished me 'Happy Birthday', they really remembered it was my birthday. Now, I would receive a staggering number of birthday wishes from people on my fb list but with it, comes this nagging sensation. Do they wish 'Happy Birthday' because they really remembered someone's birthday? Or is it a mere glance at the 'Events' column of their profile showing which friend is now turning a year older. To be honest, I'm guilty of the same offence too. Apart from close friends whose birthdates are stored in my handphone, my online postings of birthday wishes depend on whether or not I had the chance to go on facebook for that particular day. So it's no longer about having the thought that counts. It only counts if you're an active facebook user!; and

(f) I had the chance to meet up with two sets of friends, both important in their own ways. The first was those I had known since 6 years old. We had travelled the uncharted path of primary school together for five years, went separate ways but somehow reconnected after a lapse of almost two decades. It was with this group of friends that I had a buka puasa gathering last Thursday and it soon turned out to be an impromptu early birthday party for me.

The second set was my faculty batchmates who I had studied with during 2003-2007. We were strangers at first but after years of being baked, grilled, roasted and panned by our law lecturers, it was surprising that we ended up as friends. It was with this group that I celebrated my birthday in a quaint restaurant along Jalan Yap Kwan Seng yesterday.

That's all for now. I'm still reeling from the fact that I'm now a year older. So forgive me while I run elsewhere for a breather.

Of all the gin joints

Bogart's line 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine' (which if you do not know, came from Casablanca - the 1940's movie and not the actual place) proved a little close for comfort for me yesterday.

After much deliberation, YPN, MAO and myself chose to eat at this restaurant in Solaris Mont' Kiara for lunch. YPN told us the lunch sets are fantastic considering the price is fixed at RM10 and we were looking forward to a good lunch. Well, since my office moved to a new location, the lunches have been great (if not damaging to the wallets. Imagine food at gourmet prices, sigh). In fact, it was only the other day that YPN, myself and two of the partners had lunch at this place which I believe is the only place which has the words 'Burgers' and 'Salads' plastered over Queen Elizabeth II's image. The restaurant even had the audacity to brand its menu as that of 'Royal's menu' although scones and crumpets are somehow missing from the picture!

Anyway, back to the story at hand.

I ordered the same western lunch set as did YPN and MAO. All were happy tucking in (and on my part, simply loved the strips of tender beef accompanying the pasta. It could be that I'm watching this great korean drama entitled 'Pasta' and hence, my craving for everything Italian and pasta) and chatting until YPN caused me to suffer sudden indigestion. The reason? She saw and informed MAO and I that two of our bosses with an unidentified gentleman were approaching our part of the restaurant (and what I believe as them not noticing us) proceeded to sit at a table exactly opposite ours! And in a true movie replay, I suddenly imagined Bogart saying to Sam (who was the pianist in the movie) those lines. Worst, I could even picture Bogart saying "Of all the expensive restaurants in all of Solaris Mont' Kiara in all of Kuala Lumpur, they walk into where we are having lunch".

From then onwards, our lunch conversations suddenly seemed guarded. The things we chatted about were not exactly scandalous or libelous for that matter but somehow, it's just an uncomfortable feeling when you know your bosses are within hearing range. And that fact is a lil depressing because lunchtime is when we forget (or try to) about work and talk nonsense.

Today, the three of us decided to head to Plaza Damas for a nice Friday lunch. The rest of the office were also headed in the same direction (minus the bosses) but in the end, our little group had lunch at this secluded wine-concept restaurant. The tomato soup was so-so but the spaghetti was unfortunately not that nice compared to yesterday's meal.

Well, at least I did not suffer indigestion today, haha.

And tomorrow is the arrival of the long awaited weekend. Am happy =)