Of course, and good food. That's a no-brainer.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Saturday Chill
De rigueur for a chill-out Saturday cafe: polite crowd, preferably not too a big one; friendly staff and pleasant service; serves plain water; rotating fan to lend a rhythmic constant; chalkboards for an old-school feel; words about lustrous food and drinks; and well-chosen pictures displayed.
Of course, and good food. That's a no-brainer.
Of course, and good food. That's a no-brainer.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sake Fridae
Perhaps it's the Sake. I realised I signed the hefty bill without even verifying the items that were ordered. But it was a good meal still, even if we weren't enjoying this in Japan like how it was a year ago.
A Korean couple first sat next to us. I was eyeing their food and trying to match a fantastically yummy-looking plate of pancake to the menu but I couldn't pin down what exactly it is.
After the Korean couple left, two Japanese men took over their seats. I realised the Koreans before them proved they were unJapanese-like through their choice of food: a bowl of soupy stuff, tempura, something resembling pancake, and beer. They had only a few sticks of Yakitori - at a Yakitori specialty restaurant.
The Japanese were different. They spoke Japanese (obviously), had beer, and ordered plenty of yakitori, including those you and I might abstain from, like horse heart or liver, whatever. Our tables were barely an arm's length away from each other, so we could easily see what the other was eating. At one point, the Japanese beside me turned to us and asked what was the bowl of rather appetising-looking food on our table. 'Garlic Rice,' J responded with her most kawaii smile. Then they talked briefly about the food. As usual, I was the silent one, smiling at appropriate moments while J went on talking like a natural pro, as she always did when we happened to make small talk with the locals during our time in Japan.
A hefty meal it was, but it capped a mad week of late nights and intense concentration on excel sheets and numbers. I wasn't tipsy or anything, but I could feel the sake taking effect, even if it was mild. Till the next sake!
A Korean couple first sat next to us. I was eyeing their food and trying to match a fantastically yummy-looking plate of pancake to the menu but I couldn't pin down what exactly it is.
After the Korean couple left, two Japanese men took over their seats. I realised the Koreans before them proved they were unJapanese-like through their choice of food: a bowl of soupy stuff, tempura, something resembling pancake, and beer. They had only a few sticks of Yakitori - at a Yakitori specialty restaurant.
The Japanese were different. They spoke Japanese (obviously), had beer, and ordered plenty of yakitori, including those you and I might abstain from, like horse heart or liver, whatever. Our tables were barely an arm's length away from each other, so we could easily see what the other was eating. At one point, the Japanese beside me turned to us and asked what was the bowl of rather appetising-looking food on our table. 'Garlic Rice,' J responded with her most kawaii smile. Then they talked briefly about the food. As usual, I was the silent one, smiling at appropriate moments while J went on talking like a natural pro, as she always did when we happened to make small talk with the locals during our time in Japan.
A hefty meal it was, but it capped a mad week of late nights and intense concentration on excel sheets and numbers. I wasn't tipsy or anything, but I could feel the sake taking effect, even if it was mild. Till the next sake!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Last Weekend
I spent a long and tiring week at work the week before, staying late in office on most days till past 10pm. So when Friday finally arrived, I was filled with tremendous relief and joy. The punishing week was bad, yet it was bad in such a way that made me eager and determined to enjoy a carefree weekend. That means getting a good dose of rest, taking things easy and slow, and doing things that I like. In fact, because the entire week had been so bad, it wasn't difficult at all for my weekend to be enjoyable. On Friday night, after clearing up the last hurdles and leaving the office, my mind drifted into the realm of silly thoughts as I waited at the bus-stop. It had made an effortless switch from work mode to a 'I'm done for the week and I care not for anything in the world' mode.
While waiting for the bus and during the short bus journey to the train station, I began to entertain thoughts of what a perfect weekend should be like after a harried week like this one: it would be kind of nice if my weary body ought to be delivered into a Sleep Chamber. Somehow, the idea just came to my mind. I can only guess that it's fueled by a deep craving for a good, long sleep. A sleep chamber sounds enticingly welcoming, for not only would it enforce a sleep regime, but it also allows for an uninterrupted period of rest. It's a bit ike how the top pugilists in the pugilist world would periodically retreat into some secluded cave so they can't be disturbed while they are harnessing some deep inner powers. (Of course, in every show these old worldly elders always ended up being disturbed, often right at the last day of their retreat whereupon they would emerge with new levels of powers.) But I digress. I just needed a lot, a lot of sleep to rejuvenate my tired body.
Saturday and Sunday came and gone by nevertheless. They were, however, a splendidly lovely pair of S-days that can be summed up by three things: favourite snacks, relaxing sport, charming places. I would have liked to have more time to catch up with reading and sleep even more, but a weekend is a weekend is only a two-day interlude. Often I thought about this: The irony of wishing to spend a quality weekend is that you need to do some advance planning so that precious in-between hours are not wasted and scheduling clashes are avoided. Because the weekend is so short, you feel like you need to squeeze every minute out of it and do something productive or fruitful. Otherwise come Monday you will feel a sense of betrayal and regret at having squandered precious free time. Yet the whole point of a weekend is not to be sucked back into a semblance of routine and planning. Yes, you need to have a sense of how you want to spend the time; yet you don't want to feel obliged to plan and then stick to it like how the weekdays are bound and run on a scheduled engine. My personal experience tells me that those who are highly disciplined, decisive and determined often have things planned out in advance and tend to adhere to the plan. Those who are more lackadaisical, accommodating and less forceful, on the other hand, are the ones who go with the flow. I like to think I always try to find a balance between over-planning and under-planning, though in the case of weekend I tend to not make plans in advance at all.
I managed to be a bit of a bum over the weekend, and I felt really relaxed at not having anything on my schedule. No more Chinese New Year gatherings, no more reports to worry about. I travelled to places that I always wanted to check out, ate some super yummy favourite food, and took photos of lots of nice things. In place of running and cycling, I managed to swim not just once but twice over the weekend. This was quite a record, since I've not swum during the weekend for a very long time. And as a result of this happy weekend, I find myself a pretty contented worker this week so far.
Dawn. Friday.
Espresso Haus
A Bright Opening
I can keep on eating this. Dozens. Every day.
Kaya Butter Toast done the perfect way. Absolute delight.
Coffee is consistently good.
Leaves. Freely.
Imagination Expired
S-A-L-E
Doggie Trio. Hello!
Vacant
Cashier Chic
Red Against Blue
A Charming Fat Lady
While waiting for the bus and during the short bus journey to the train station, I began to entertain thoughts of what a perfect weekend should be like after a harried week like this one: it would be kind of nice if my weary body ought to be delivered into a Sleep Chamber. Somehow, the idea just came to my mind. I can only guess that it's fueled by a deep craving for a good, long sleep. A sleep chamber sounds enticingly welcoming, for not only would it enforce a sleep regime, but it also allows for an uninterrupted period of rest. It's a bit ike how the top pugilists in the pugilist world would periodically retreat into some secluded cave so they can't be disturbed while they are harnessing some deep inner powers. (Of course, in every show these old worldly elders always ended up being disturbed, often right at the last day of their retreat whereupon they would emerge with new levels of powers.) But I digress. I just needed a lot, a lot of sleep to rejuvenate my tired body.
Saturday and Sunday came and gone by nevertheless. They were, however, a splendidly lovely pair of S-days that can be summed up by three things: favourite snacks, relaxing sport, charming places. I would have liked to have more time to catch up with reading and sleep even more, but a weekend is a weekend is only a two-day interlude. Often I thought about this: The irony of wishing to spend a quality weekend is that you need to do some advance planning so that precious in-between hours are not wasted and scheduling clashes are avoided. Because the weekend is so short, you feel like you need to squeeze every minute out of it and do something productive or fruitful. Otherwise come Monday you will feel a sense of betrayal and regret at having squandered precious free time. Yet the whole point of a weekend is not to be sucked back into a semblance of routine and planning. Yes, you need to have a sense of how you want to spend the time; yet you don't want to feel obliged to plan and then stick to it like how the weekdays are bound and run on a scheduled engine. My personal experience tells me that those who are highly disciplined, decisive and determined often have things planned out in advance and tend to adhere to the plan. Those who are more lackadaisical, accommodating and less forceful, on the other hand, are the ones who go with the flow. I like to think I always try to find a balance between over-planning and under-planning, though in the case of weekend I tend to not make plans in advance at all.
I managed to be a bit of a bum over the weekend, and I felt really relaxed at not having anything on my schedule. No more Chinese New Year gatherings, no more reports to worry about. I travelled to places that I always wanted to check out, ate some super yummy favourite food, and took photos of lots of nice things. In place of running and cycling, I managed to swim not just once but twice over the weekend. This was quite a record, since I've not swum during the weekend for a very long time. And as a result of this happy weekend, I find myself a pretty contented worker this week so far.
Dawn. Friday.
Espresso Haus
A Bright Opening
I can keep on eating this. Dozens. Every day.
Kaya Butter Toast done the perfect way. Absolute delight.
Coffee is consistently good.
Leaves. Freely.
Imagination Expired
S-A-L-E
Doggie Trio. Hello!
Vacant
Cashier Chic
Red Against Blue
A Charming Fat Lady
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Monday, November 07, 2011
that which we all adore: A&W!
The other reason why I ditched Bintan for Batam in the end was this: A&W. I don't know if Bintan had A&W, but Batam definitely has, so that's a clear edge for Batam. Just like in Malaysia where the people who ask about A&W and patronise it are my countrymen, so too is the case for Batam.
I guess if A&W never disappeared from the F&B landscape here, it would not have been so popular and excited so many souls now. But such is life, the extinct A&W rootbeer float being such a signature delight that it has seared its way into the hearts of foodie Singaporeans. After all, the value of a commodity invariably increases when it is in limited supply. I guess from an economic sense that's how nostalgia has an ineradicable part in our lives.
I guess if A&W never disappeared from the F&B landscape here, it would not have been so popular and excited so many souls now. But such is life, the extinct A&W rootbeer float being such a signature delight that it has seared its way into the hearts of foodie Singaporeans. After all, the value of a commodity invariably increases when it is in limited supply. I guess from an economic sense that's how nostalgia has an ineradicable part in our lives.
Sunday, November 06, 2011
exclusive pleasures
It will never happen, but a comfortable schedule should be one sprinkled with regular time-out at the friendly cafe at the corner of the street or in an unpretentious restaurant that serves no-frills good food. Prices should be affordable and most importantly, the atmosphere and vibes must strike the right chord. Make it too gaudy and the place will come across as having poor taste. Sexed it up with a poor mix of music and even the best cappuccino cannot compensate for it.
The things that invariably impress me are simplicity, good service, a decent selection of cakes and bite-sized food, and good coffee (not necessarily in that order). The furnishing must be pleasing because one goes to a cafe to relax and chill. (Don't bother if you have to ask what's the connection.) And in the words of my King of Komfort friend (so labelled because he is a ruthless connoisseur of all things comfortable in life, which, I should add, does not necessarily equate with all things expensive), toilets of restaurants are most critical: they cannot be shabby-chic; they must be swanky.
That's a swanky statement to make.
The saddest thing about tiny Singapore (which is growing tinier as its population continues to grow) is that no place can ever stay as an exclusive haven. The moment a gem even in the most secluded, god-forsaken location sprouts up, it will very shortly become a haven lost. I discovered during my recent respite that the only way to enjoy that bit of exclusivity and pleasure at such places is to visit them during weekdays. But unless you are a millionaire-turned-retiree or a care-the-world-not swaggering lad who lives by his own time, the possibility of you enjoying time-out on a weekday is probably very slim. Life's a bitch and we know it.
Sunday's almost gone, but you don't have to start mourning - 'coz tomorrow's a public holiday. As my ex-classmate's Facebook status says: 3-day weekends should be made mandatory. Now, that's another swanky statement I support.
The things that invariably impress me are simplicity, good service, a decent selection of cakes and bite-sized food, and good coffee (not necessarily in that order). The furnishing must be pleasing because one goes to a cafe to relax and chill. (Don't bother if you have to ask what's the connection.) And in the words of my King of Komfort friend (so labelled because he is a ruthless connoisseur of all things comfortable in life, which, I should add, does not necessarily equate with all things expensive), toilets of restaurants are most critical: they cannot be shabby-chic; they must be swanky.
That's a swanky statement to make.
The saddest thing about tiny Singapore (which is growing tinier as its population continues to grow) is that no place can ever stay as an exclusive haven. The moment a gem even in the most secluded, god-forsaken location sprouts up, it will very shortly become a haven lost. I discovered during my recent respite that the only way to enjoy that bit of exclusivity and pleasure at such places is to visit them during weekdays. But unless you are a millionaire-turned-retiree or a care-the-world-not swaggering lad who lives by his own time, the possibility of you enjoying time-out on a weekday is probably very slim. Life's a bitch and we know it.
Sunday's almost gone, but you don't have to start mourning - 'coz tomorrow's a public holiday. As my ex-classmate's Facebook status says: 3-day weekends should be made mandatory. Now, that's another swanky statement I support.
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