Thursday, January 10

in praise of pastes

For dinner, green curry* with brown bread and white wine. Burp. Hic. This is what I do when I'm supposed to be doing actual writing.

* Made from Dancing Chef curry paste. Dancing Chef is very good. My tummy is dancing now -- with joy.


Mentaiko pasta in 15 minutes, thanks to a thoughtful MS and her gift of Japanese sachets of instant seasonings. Neon yellow pickled radish -- takuan, I think? -- as a side dish.

Bland yet salty. Rich yet light. Gone in 10 minutes.

I've loved this since I first had the home-cooked version -- still the best ever -- by the Mum of the family my sis and I were staying with when we backpacked through Japan a millennium ago. I've tried to replicate it once from scratch but it was too rich. Can someone try Chubby Hubby's recipe and let me know if it's any good?

In the meantime, I'm guarding my last three packets most jealously.

just shoot me

Despite the lukewarm reviews and rather hefty price tag, I'm still drooling over the Leica D-LUX 3. I think it's something to do with the retro boxy shape. None of that shiny silver shit.

I'm such a sucker for packaging.

P.S. I can't belive I just spent the last two hours obsessively comparing various dSLRs, prosumer SLRs, compacts and ultra-compacts on The logical choice -- Ha! As if I have spare cash! -- would be the highly-rated Canon PowerShot G9.

Not as pretty as the object of my desire (the pix is pixelated not because I don't love it as much, just some technical difficulties I can't be bothered to troubleshoot), but a good $200 cheaper.

Wednesday, January 9

a moving story

If Ikea is the happiest place on earth, then we should just move in there. Oh wait, someone already did.

Saturday, January 5


Dang. I got my "big" and "small" mixed up. Novice 4D gambler mistake.

Double dang. I came close to striking a consolation prize. That's $12 down the drain.

speeling on chanel 5

The guys doing the trailers for Channel 5 must be drunk. The two stars in Mr & Mrs Smith were Angelina Jolie and Bratt Pitt. And the winner of Asian Idol was Hardy Mirza.


First post of 2008.

There I was, getting ready to tuck into my yummy char kway teow with extra hum, when I saw out of the corner of my eye, a white streak going diagonally past my face from right to left.

With half my attention on AC's riveting tale of a spitting deejay and clubbing hijinks, I didn't notice that whatever that airborne thing was had landed on my plate. Luckily, an alert CW pointed it out. On close scrutiny, we realised it was bird poop.

"Ewww...Ewww...Ewww..." I couldn't stop exclaiming, alternating between leaning as far away from the offensive whitish goop as possible and examining it in morbid fascination. "My char kway teowwwwwwwww..."

"Why don't you just push it aside? You can still eat the rest," someone suggested so helpfully. (No one would own up to this later on when I questioned the witnesses.)

"Nooooooooo!" I wailed, to continued chortles from my unsympathetic lunch companions, some of whom were merrily tucking into their unsullied char kway teow.

Using only the barest of finger tips, I carried the plate back to the char kway teow uncle and told him in my best whining voice: "Got bird shit!"

Even the sweaty harassed uncle had to pause in the middle of frying and crack a grin at my predicament. And the auntie very kindly gave me another plate and refused to take my money.

Since bird shit is supposed to be lucky -- not sure why -- I've gone and bought 4D for only the second time in my life. (I won the first and last time I did.)

We'll find out tomorrow if betting $12 was a good idea -- or a bird-brained one.

P.S. Can you spot my good luck charm in the pix?