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what’s this? three posts in two days? surely this means that that harpie of a book project i was working on is safely ensconced at the printers, being teased and bound into its silky-sheened covers… but, no.

after postponing the launch date for a fortnight to give us more time to work on it, it became clear that “us” meant “them”. “they” who, after i gave them a stack of PDFs for proofing a week and a bit ago, promised daily that the amendments would be sent back tomorrow, then tomorrow, then monday, then tomorrow, then tomorrow, then tomorrow, then this afternoon, no, tomorrow, no no, this afternoon. so finally on thursday it landed with a thud, as only an 11-page word doc can, detailing changes, additions, suggestions to move a single page to somewhere else in the book where there is already something else, and an even better suggestion that because they had to remove a pictorial page i could perhaps add some pages at the end where more pictures could go. hmf.

so i did the sensible thing of course: i ignored it. and gave myself the day off. this was possible because friday morning, a little before five, the boy took the kid — slumped still asleep on his shoulder — away for easter holidays, in the country, with his olds, for an unspecified period of time, but most probably at least until wednesday.

W H O O P.

so i blogged for some hours. and i went up the street in the drizzle for a paper and some magazines, and i sat on my balcony drinking hot chocolate and eating hot buttered cross loaf. then i blogged for some more hours. and watched four episodes of season two of “carnivale”, rented the day before for the bargain price of $3.50 for the entire six-disc set.

then i made wontons, which is something i’d wanted to do since i read of helen’s wonton frenzy. truly, it was as easy as she said, and why have i not done this sooner? the only hiccup came halfway through the wrapping: i had dealt with exactly half of my filling of organic pork mince, water chesnuts, straw mushrooms, garlic, soy sauce, white pepper and minced garlic… when my wrappers ran out! i guess helen’s packet of wrappers must have been twice the size of mine, and when i read the empty packaging again, there it was: 34 pieces. who the hell gets all geared up squishing minced pork through their bare fingers, and then makes only 34 wontons?? ridiculous.

i wasn’t up to re-refrigerating the bacteria-infested remainder until i got more skins, so i tossed it into my wok with a tub of leftover rice, and voila! instant pork fried rice dinner! which wasn’t very good friday of me i suppose. i made up for it by staying up much too late and watching that jesus movie on tv.

this morning, i found myself awake just after six, so i cleaned the house. i have a clean house. so maybe it’s not the same as if my mum had cleaned it, but spray and wipe was involved, and a vacuum cleaner, and several large garbage bags. by ten, i was freshly scrubbed, waiting for deborah to show up: we were going on a bagel hunt.

she’d mentioned these really good bagels that a colleague kept bringing her, and then there was a story in the paper, and a one-off easter weekend saturday opening, and it all came down to us on a train to bondi junction, finding the great bagel and coffee company right there in the pedestrian mall, and splitting an everything bagel with a generous spread of smoked salmon and dill cream cheese: cream cheese, into which had been blended smoked salmon and dill. we ate it, so happily, sitting just in from the rain, with paper cups of steaming english breakfast tea. then we went back in and between us bought 18 bagels to go.

except we didn’t. well, the bagels didn’t. the counterboys were kind enough to hold them for us, while we explored the westfield behemoth across the road. after a few hours of great consumer restraint, we went back to pick up our bagels, and pretended for a little while that it might maybe be a little bit too crazy if we sat down to bagel sandwiches for lunch. our restraint is no match for bagels though, so there we were:

“i think i’ll get the pastrami one.”
“mmm, yeah, i think i might too.”
beat.
“unless…”
“we order two different ones and split them?”
“yeah!”

it helps to talk things through sometimes. the pastrami one, for which we chose a rye bagel, comes with sliced pickle, tomato, lettuce and mustard. they put the pastrami on steaming, but if you sit outside on a rainy autumn day, and decide that you want to save the pastrami one for last, it will be stone cold. but tasty. so tasty. tastier, though not necessarily better, than the turkey one, on an onion bagel, with cranberry sauce, avocado, brie and sprouts.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 7 April 2007 at 9:38 pm

permalink | filed under around town, kitchen, lunch, werk

the kid was drawing circles with dots in them the other day (“biscuits!”), when i said, “why don’t you draw a hot cross bun?”. she only paused long enough to look at me like it was a really good idea before she went on to draw bun after bun after bun. three pages of them in fact, until she got bored and wandered off. illustrated food blog? it’s a cinch!

how is it easter already? well, ok, only good friday, but it was only last friday that i discovered the hot cross loaf at bourke street bakery and promised that i would return for it. by wednesday, it struck me that it was only a couple days away from the easter weekend, and after that… who knew if hot cross loaves would still be baked. after all, bourke street bakery is not a link in a chain of franchise bakeshops who churn out hot cross buns all year ’round.

after an obligatory hour spent with the ducks, geese, pelican and playground at victoria park, we arrived at the bakery on the stroke of lunchtime. i had never registered before if it was set up to eat in; other times i had only stood just inside the narrow doorway for as long as it took to order a takeaway loaf or tart. but yes, there is a single corner table, which might seat four snugly, and if you have an extraordinarily long torso, there are also three stools at a counter mounted so high up the wall that it came up to my chin.

all seating will be free if you arrive at an early hour as we did, but if you spend too many minutes trying to choose what you might like to eat (as i did), the corner table with the sensible seating will be taken, and you will be forced to perch on one of the bar stools. when maeve sat down, the counter was t h i s far above her head.

but so, the choice, enormous! i knew there were delicious sausage rolls (a few years ago i had the lamb, harissa, almond and currant one, and this time, eyeing the pork and fennel — there is also a chicken option — i went with the lamb again. the pastry so flaky and buttery! the filling so flavoursome and crunchy with chopped nuts!), but there is also pizza (ready-made, cut into slabs) and panini (the kid chose roast pork with coral lettuce and mayonnaise on a herby-oniony roll).

by the end of lunch, we had migrated to the corner table after the original inhabitants vacated, and there was a good two thirds of pork sandwich leftover for my lunch the next day. also, maeve had endeared herself to the countergirl to the extent that she offered me anything in the window in exchange for the child. my eyes darted to the chocolate tart, but in the end, i paid my $5.50 for a hot cross loaf and we skipped outside to the bus stop where we waited quite a bit over half an hour for the every-20-minutes service back home.

earlier in the day, in the treasure trove that is the discount-stickered upstairs shelvery of gleebooks, i had found “candyfreak“, which is self-explanatory, really, and an appropriate read for the choc fest that is the easter holidays. [of course, you could argue that chocolate is not really candy, that it is a whole different (and better) entity, which it is, but yeah, maybe next time.] there is a front-cover endorsement from amy sedaris, and a blurb about the author, steve almond, being “the dave eggers of food writing”, and the dust jacket itself mimics the silvery foil of a candy bar wrapper, so clearly this book (published in 2004, two copies left at gleebooks, $14.95 reduced from $44) is like, waaay cool. we shall see; i’m only up to chapter two, and steve is still talking a bit more about himself than about candy… and i never really could get into dave eggers anyway. but i have skipped ahead, just right now, and there is a visit to the necco factory, whose outlet store annex in boston i visited with my obliging sister several years ago.

[ sighs wistfully ]

we pass like ships in iChat.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 6 April 2007 at 10:43 am

permalink | filed under around town, bookshelf, kid, lunch, nellie

my breadbin is a large pink enamel trough (enamelled pale buttery yellow on the inside) with a wooden lid for slicing bread on (though i have not done so). i would not be surprised if it suddenly twisted itself up into a horn of plenty, because this is what it holds:
– 1 loaf of sourdough soy and linseed
– 2 blueberry bagels
– 1 muesli cookie
– 1 dark chocolate sour cherry cookie
– a bag and a half of japanese rice crackers
– and the last couple of slices of supermarket bread, several days old, on which i am now waiting to develop those furry green clumps of mould before i put them in the bin.

there would’ve been a macaron (or two. or three!) in there as well, but… well, you shall see.

yesterday was a busy day. before our 12.30 lunch date, we had already made acquaintances of the waterfowl (and single displaced pelican) on the victoria park pond; gone on everything at least once in the park’s playground; and handed over $4 for the muesli cookie at toby’s estate — well, it is a pretty good cookie, large as a small bun, moist, packed full of brown sugar and wheaty bits and a harvest of dried fruit. after some hijinx in the shoe aisles of kmart, we bought two pairs of boots (child size 6) for the coming winter, and then settled in at tomodachi with deborah, for agedashi tofu, sashimi salad, and an assortment of exotic maki from the sushi train. a sizeable feast, though i think the kid came away best of all, having charmed herself all the cherry tomatoes in the salad, and more pieces of salmon sashimi than you’d think a two-and-a-half year old would want.

midweek, leading up to lunch, we had already discussed dessert. words like “macaron” and “chocolate tart” were bandied about the ether. beb patisserie on broadway, as you know, does a fine line of exotic macaron, and across the road, the bourke street bakery satellite beams you a full range of sweet tarts. alas. our worse fears were realised as we arrived at beb: those “for lease” signs i thought i’d seen whizzing past on the bus a couple weeks ago, they were indeed pasted up on the cold glass windows of the dark little shell. all the shop fittings were still there, but the sign on the door, unglamourously askew, said “CLOSED”, even though the list of times posted right next to it indicated that it should be OPEN.

we grieved only the briefest moment before turning on our heels and crossing the street. at bourke street bakery, the chocolate tart beckoned, but after picking a sourdough soy and linseed loaf (eschewing the hot cross loaf — a gigantic, craggy hot cross bun, which sounded very warm and spicy from the handwritten description, and which i will no doubt return for one of these days before easter, and make into slices of very buttery fruit toast) i found i no longer had a longing for dessert. the chocolate cookie, a sizeable disc of chewy black packed with chewy sour cherries, was almost an afterthought (but of course i had been thinking about it ever since the plan for lunch had been hatched).

and so that is why my breadbin is packed to capacity.

[ the blueberry bagels (by bagel house) were already there. i bought them at the supermarket on special, but for the last few weeks i have been seeing a bagel house cafe slowly take shape on darling street. i must investigate further. ]

posted by ragingyoghurt on 31 March 2007 at 4:51 pm

permalink | filed under around town, drawn, lunch, snacks

a fillet of salmon meets its demise, surrounded by green: green peas, green mash, salsa verde.

bloody hell. has it been a week of freakish death or what? i started watching “look both ways” last year, and one of the characters, an artist, had moments where she saw random and violent ways in which she came to an end. these episodes — being flattened by a train, or eaten by a shark — were animated in the style of her painting… and were strangely similar to the fleeting glimpses i get from time to time: if i’m standing high up somewhere, i look down and imagine myself broken on the ground below; or if i’m waiting to cross the street on the corner, i might see a car riding the pavement and ploughing into me. which is what happened to those people in kogarah. did they ever think it would happen to them? i never did see what becomes of the movie; it was a rental, and halfway through it started sticking every few seconds. i returned it unfinished, and got a credit on my account, and eventually used it to borrow an instalment of the last season of “six feet under“. me, obsessed with death? naw.

there were times in the last couple of weeks though, where i thought my unravelling would be due to the book i’m currently working on. i cannot describe to you the despair i felt as i opened each jpg, to find that it was yet another badly lit, out-of-focus snapshot, and that it had been scanned in at too low a resolution; a blessing or a curse — that it could only be used small? by last weekend, the RSI had set in, and my eyes itched in revolt when i so much as glanced at my screen. still, i felt like i had finally broken the back of the beast. i knew where things lay; i knew what had to be done. and then the email came in:

“i am going to send you the book map that we changed around a bit too (minor) so maybe send the pagination once you have done your stuff.”

you did not hear the screams, but they were so loud (major), in my head.

but it hasn’t all been crap, even when my grandfather died last thursday. he’d been sliding into dementia for years, and had suffered a series of mini-strokes which left him increasingly placid and smiley. he no longer knew who i was, and i hardly saw him anyway. but when i was six, he taught us — me and my cousins — such things as not to point at people with our chopsticks, and not to sit at the dining table with our legs propped up on our chairs; only rickshaw drivers sat like that. he obsessively clipped stories from the chinese newspaper and pasted them into his scrapbooks, and sometimes he would test me by making me read headlines. he never really accepted the excuse that i only knew the simplified modern characters. he was admitted into hospital already halfway gone. my mum txted me while we were at the powerhouse on that day — harmony day — when all visitors wearing thongs (footwear, not bumfloss) got in for free: she was on the 7.30 bus to KL. barely twelve hours later, they shut off the machines. and off he went.

if you go to the powerhouse museum before april 22, you will get to see guan wei‘s splendid mural on the walls of the top floor, a “floating, poetic corridor in which history and memory, fact and fiction are blurred” [in his own words, from the powerhouse website]. it is great, and there is a stuffed wombat.

so there was that, and also, one day i made green mashed potatoes — buttery mash with some improvised salsa verde swirled through (with extra salsa verde on the side) (and enough mash and salsa verde left over for two more meals consisting solely of mashed potato and salsa verde).

and yesterday, walking through pitt street mall, the kid and i simultaneously glanced over at the entrance to the myer food hall, and simultaneously registered that there was a pair of gigantic golden bunny ears popping up over the escalators. specifically it was the lindt gold easter bunny, ten feet tall, the best kind of inflated doll. we had just missed some sort of chocolate demonstration, but the lindt girl offered us a lindor easter egg and a little easter chicken from her easter basket. (and then while waiting for the bus, maeve insisted on unpeeling her chicken, and the whole body of it fell out onto the funky black ground, leaving her holding onto the tiny hollow head, still wrapped in foil, and she was rightfully traumatised, but there was funky black matter stuck to the chicken, though only on one side, so i broke off the tainted side and gave the rest of it back to her, and she ate it and was mostly fine except for a bit of a loose bowel today.)

and two sundays ago, we went to the playschool concert in tumbalong park, during which a purple paper birthday cake was unveiled, and everybody sang “happy birthday” to the sydney harbour bridge. the cake was nice and all, but nowhere quite as delicious as jay la’gaia.

and then later in the day, we walked over the bridge, and looked up into the steel arches, and down between the gaps in the roadway into the deep green harbour, and by the end, just as it began to drizzle, i hadn’t fallen in, or been flattened by a girder.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 29 March 2007 at 9:47 pm

permalink | filed under around town, at the movies, chocolate, dinner, kid, snacks, werk

i have just eaten too many mini daim candies in quick succession. eight, to be exact. i was pretty sure i’d stop at four, and then six… and now i feel a little tight in the throat, so eight it is. when i impulse-bought a sack of them at the duty free candy shop in the singapore airport, i thought that maybe i now had too many daims, and that it would be a struggle to get through them. but now i see that the cunning daims, with their thick, milky chocolate covering, and their crunchy, salty toffee caramel centers, will have no trouble getting eaten. at all.

i am about to be buried in an avalanche of werk, and will certainly need sustenance. i recently read about someone designing a 144-page exhibition catalogue in four weeks (via india, ink.), so perhaps it can be done after all; i think i have three weeks, for 124 pages.

i wonder, though, if the designer of that catalogue looks after a kid all morning, going to pirate storytime at the library, or two playgrounds on the way to the supermarket to buy watermelon, or like this morning, a meander through the tokyo fiesta in martin place followed by a quick look-in at the lindt shop followed by a sushi picnic at circular quay followed by a clamber up the opera house steps to buy tickets for the babies prom, “yummy in my tummy” in a couple of weeks followed by a trek through the botanical gardens (including somersaults in the grass and duck-chasing) followed by a busride through the city and home followed by stories and successful pottytime and tucking in for naps (followed by eight daims and procrastination reading about the riot at target for stella mccartney frocks. people are crazy.).

my mum has a friend in singapore — her boss, really — whose daughter had twins a little while ago, and worked out this arrangement: the babies stay over at the grandparents’ house during the week, nights included, and then the parents retrieve them for the weekend, unless the boss’s daughter has like, a dinner to go to, or an appointment for a facial or a massage or something, then the babies stay at the grandparents on the weekend too. nightfeeds, night wakings… all done by the grandparents. she’s lucky that way.

because maeve is going through this phase at the moment, where her sippy cup has to be tucked in, and every last finger too, and if something should come untucked during the nap (or, even worse, during the night) then the keening begins.

“maybe her toes are cold,” said my mother, mishearing, over the phone a couple nights ago. “maybe you should put socks on her so she won’t feel the cold and wake up.”

“no, not her toes. she wants her cup to be tucked in.”

my mother is speechless for a time. “wha… her cup?”

“yah.”

“that is sooo funny!”

“funny meh? why don’t you come and tuck her in?”

anyway. so, mother’s boss’s daughter. works in the logistics department at apple. on a whim, i wrote to ask if she could do me an employee discount on an ipod shuffle. she said she had a spare one sitting on her desk, because they just give her one every few months and she’s had so many that she didn’t know who else to give them to anymore. and so she gave it to me. we picked it up on the way to haw par villa. i am lucky that way.

i christened it with “take on me“. mostly, though, i’ve been using it to listen to the mr brown show while doing the dishes after dinner.

i wonder if that exhibition catalog designer has to do the dishes.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 12 March 2007 at 3:05 pm

permalink | filed under around town, candy, chocolate, kid, tv, werk

[ a picture of a baked treat: a slab of pandan cake topped with a good smear of red bean paste, enveloped in puff pastry; it has been baked, in its entirety, with a sprinkling of polo topping, and then sliced down the middle and filled with buttercream. in the background, a steamed pork bun. ]

there you go.

’round about noon yesterday, after we had walked through the ten courts of hell, and climbed the winding path up the hill which culminated in a vibrant tableau of the journey to the west, it began to drizzle. we were damp and sticky from a moist, 34 degreed morning, so we took it as a sign to climb back into the car and leave the feral gorillas for the next trip.

the rain was pelting down by the time we got to crystal jade kitchen, and the queue for a lunchtime table was long. from the bakery annex, i put together a quick inflight care package for nellie; she was booked onto KLM, so she’d need all the help she could get.

CRYSTAL JADE CAKERY
( JUNCTION 8 ) PTE LTD
1 Cake Cup 1.05
1 BBQ Pineapple Bun 1.24
1 Pineapple Kaya Bun 1.33

and for myself, just to make me feel better,
1 R.Bean Pandan Cake 1.33

it worked, i think, though it hasn’t stopped raining. everything around me, indoors even, is limp and damp.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 March 2007 at 11:39 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, nellie, snacks, trip

this eating like pigs…

continues…

a. post-soba dessert at ajitei takashimaya
(maccha sundae anmitsu with warabi mochi, maccha jelly, tinned peaches, some strange salty beans and a tiny jug of raw honey.)

b. chocolate buffet at the fullerton hotel
(maccha and chocolate pudding with gold-leafed berries; followed by a hot chocolate made to order at the hot chocolate bar: select from bowls of single origin valrhona chocolate pieces to be melted down in a saucepan of hot milk by the hot chocolate flunkie, and served with two salted pretzels; followed by many, many little dishes and shot glasses to the point of unwellness.)

c. trip number two to the zoo
(feeding time for the piggies — a great puddle of chopped up papaya, corn, bananas and gunk inhaled amidst constant low-pitched grunting — after which we saw, close-up in the rainforest enclosure, bats eating watermelon, after which we had to make our way to the ben & jerry’s at the exit for a tub of cherry garcia.)

posted by ragingyoghurt on 28 February 2007 at 4:07 pm

permalink | filed under around town, chocolate, ice cream, snacks, trip

hui(2) niang(2) jia(1). traditionally, the second day of the chinese new year is when those daughters who’ve been married out return to their old family homes, bearing gifts for the parents they left behind. and so, my good mother bought us all bus tickets to KL, and we rode into town with a box of mandarins, a box of persimmons, a box of belgian chocolate truffles, and half a tub of plant fertiliser.

there is quite a range of buses to choose from doing the singapore-KL route; some have toilets in the back and karaoke lounges downstairs. some have a hostess who serves you a satisfying meal of dry-fried beehoon with nothing more than a few bean sprouts and a couple strips of thin egg omelette. based on the bargain price of $50 for the return trip, we rode the one which is known for nothing more than its on-board oreo snack. and it’s true, behind the check-in counter at the depot office was a wall of cartons: classic oreo, and a new-fangled variant filled with an unholy (though strangely compelling) union of peanut butter and chocolate creme. krim kacang dan krim coklat!

at the pagoh reststop, i bought a beefburger and a bag of fries, solely on the basis that on the bus, it would be easier to eat than soupy noodles… and then many hours later, during the night, in the royale bintang damansara hotel, i had four dreams about vomitting before getting out of bed at 6am to make my dreams come true. twice.

the rest of the day was spent in bed, in the darkened room, while everyone else went about paying their respects and exploring the hot and dusty hellhole that is KL. nellicent was kind enough to bring me a $14 (ringgit) green tea frappucino, of which i only dared to drink half because i wasn’t up to experimenting with verdant vomit… but it really is my favourite starbucks beverage.

the next morning i was healed enough to savour teh tarik and roti bakar from the greasy, greasy place next door. it turned out to be honey toast, with a bright yellow slick of what i’m sure could only have been planta margarine. mmm.

we ate at aunts’ houses, and at indian eateries. at ikea (it was across the road from the hotel, really), we bought a packet of mild, milky cheese to supplement the pitiful hotel buffet breakfast. at the indian vegetarian place, the kid was plied with free pappadums. at my grandmother’s, we feasted on such things as stuffed crabs (in which the crabmeat and minced pork and other things are put into the crabshells, and deepfried) and salted vegetable and duck soup, which we will never know how to make, and perhaps soon, will never have to chance to eat again.

sigh.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 February 2007 at 2:38 pm

permalink | filed under around town, breakfast, dinner, lunch, nellie, snacks, trip

out in the western suburbs on thursday, during a lunchtime lebanese feast with the kids at ice, i received a txt which said: “maeve is hot and grumpy and wilt. we will come home.”

hungh.

they had only been gone two nights. i was midway through a bottle of intriguing tamarind fizzy, and reaching for my third helping of rice and lentils. i hadn’t been out to granville in about three years, but there were projects to discuss… and isn’t it nice sometimes to be more than an email address? and shouted lunch at the intern’s farewell luncheon? even when it’s crazy hot outside? yes!

after, ben walked me to the new cake shop in town, el sweetie, all shiny marble and wood panelling and boxy leather couches and as promised, a monster, flat-screen tv. of course, the monster trays of lebanese sweets were much more enticing, especially this one: kashta with pistachio.

a layer of crumbly cake, then crushed pistachios, then moist and delicately scented kashta, then more crumbs and a scattering of more nuts. you know how sometimes you have a piece of baklava, and it’s good and all, but you think that maybe it’s too cloying sweet or too nutty? this cake has none of those problems. my slice survived the train and bus rides home, and was divine with a cup of vanilla tea later that afternoon.

shortly after, the boy arrived back home too, with a limp child draped on his shoulder, and car, boots, clothes awash with vomit.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 January 2007 at 9:03 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch, werk

passionflower, in chinatown, has a new set of menus. the clean white matt celloglazed foldouts are a sight to behold — quite the encyclopedia of exotic ice cream sundaes — but the hike in prices was a bit less pretty.

for example, i remember the eastern banana split that i had the last time cost around $12. it has been renamed eastern sunrise, and costs $13.50, which, fortunately, is about all that i’d want to pay for a waffle basket filled with green tea, taro and sticky rice ice cream, slices of banana and a lychee-orange compote. mmm…

as it was, the kid ate all but one of the banana slices, and then proceeded to dig into the big ice creamy mountain with her little plastic spoon that we had swiped earlier from the counter. (apparently if you ask the waitperson for an extra metal spoon, they charge you $1.25, so be warned.) i was torn between eating slowly to savour my $13.50 ice cream, and eating quickly so that i’d actually get any ice cream at all. in the end i was scooping great big spoonfulls, and then slowly devouring each one.

we were having sundaes on a sunday, because it was the boy’s birthday, and we’d gone out for early dimsum with a friend of the boy, whose birthday it was too. and now we know that early dimsum means not too many trolleys out, and an endless wait (in vain) for the stuffed, braised eggplant, and being back out on the street much earlier than planned with much less dumpling under the belt.

ah well, because just before 11.30 on a sunday morning is perhaps the best time to visit passionflower. no loud young people lolling about the booths, and no terrible young people’s music shouting out of the speakers. the only music we hear wafts down from the photo sticker machines upstairs. it is like a siren’s call, i tell you: we are halfway up the stairs before the table is cleared.

although we left the boys downstairs, of course. there’s something very stadler and waldorf about this, don’t you think?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 4 December 2006 at 1:27 pm

permalink | filed under around town, boy, ice cream, kid

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