Speed Dial, the solution was there all along.

For years I’ve wanted a place where all my favourite websites were right in front of whenever I opened a window. I’m even too lazy to click on ‘bookmarks’  – and if they WERE actually bookmarks, you know, little folded down icons on mini-windows, I’d probably go for it. But they aren’t – bookmarks have pretty much stayed the same since the dawn of Netscape…

Speed Dial for Firefox, on the other hand, IS the answer. I was also envious of my friend Sean who created, in HTML a page that his browser defaulted to, spliced into 4 quadrants with  categorized links in each.

I was also always really envious of those traders and stock-brokers and I don’t mean because of their money or all those dogs for friends, I mean because they have 12 screens in front of them bringing all their information together. One of my favourite pictures of KK is him infront of this conflagration of content.

Speed Dial is a one click dynamic collector of links, arranged in thumbnails (which you can have refresh live) in a grid. One click and you’re there. It’s highly customizable and really really easy to use – I’m totally hooked. Sean, you built it – and one day recently, they came.

Food porn takes flight.

When I look back over the past few months of this blog, aside from the air-travel stuff, there’s an awful lot of references to food. One of, if not the, greatest passions of my life – it’s also been (rightly or wrongly) an emotional crutch, a distraction, a pleasure and a pain.

I have wanted to have a blog about food for so long, but have never really had a purpose, you know, something that made it different. So I went out and instead of a purpose, I found a porpoise – so the blog is all about how to eat water-park inhabitants.

It’s not, www.eatsmeetswest.biz is the blog that charts my indoctrination into an entirely new cuisine for me. Above and beyond having a Thai Green Curry in Peckham, my knowledge of real Thai food is pretty slim. Now, I’ve been to Thailand a few times and indeed, when I started this blog, the first entry was in fact a recap of my extremely expensive holiday in Phuket. When I read that now and look at me now, so much has changed – and with KK co-editing for me (he’s the brains behind the menu’s) it’s full rice steamer ahead!

Anyway, www.eatsmeetswest.biz is my our endeavour – it’s less of a blog and more of a place to store my online recipes. You know, when I started blogging, like emw.biz — I did it for me and if it was read by friends and family, well that was their benefit. This new blog is my place to keep my memories of learning, loving and longing for new foods. 

Ghin Khao!*

 

 

* Let’s eat!

The last straw?

I went on a cruise last week. I’ve wanted to have a vacation on a boat for as long as I can remember. To set sail from Manhattan, with a Tiffany blue sky is a unique experience, watching the tip of America’s centre fade away as you feel the gentle chop of waves and the brisk air against your skin. 

We were heading for Sweden, well, something Swedish actually. Ikea Redhook, for a shopping expedition. I was certain that although we had gone because we wanted to purchase just one item (a silicone spatula) that we would walk out with no end of gnargs, fnargs and komss. 

The water taxi to Red Hook is A LOT OF FUN. It’s not quite the Isle of Wight ferry, but it’s damn close (sorry Sean). It’s clean, immaculate and came in flatpack form with an allen key. Who was allen anyway?

The store really is big. I mean, like HUGE. Bigger than this season’s Real World house (currently showing on MTV, check local listings) and bigger than most of the port that surrounds it. It’s the world’s largest cobalt blue lego brick – and everything within is available in huge quantities.

So shop we did – sensibly and frugally, getting just what we needed (3 mini palm trees as 79 cents, a roasting tray, tea lights and rice bowls) and hit the cafeteria for a snack.

KK had the Chicken Nuggets and Fries – obviously to spite me. And proceeded to empty half the salt from the dead sea onto his carbohydratey goodness. 

I, on the other hand (not that KK was on my hand, as it were) had the roast salmon and vegetables. As the meal was being plated by a man who had a rare form of dyslexia that prohibited him from comprehending the phrase ‘low-fat’ his ladle dipped in to a sauce.

The salmon was 300 calories. The sauce, fruit based (Swedish) was probably 3000. I said ‘do I need that’, he said ‘it’s what you asked for’ and proceeded to deposit a bee’s nest of weight gain onto my plate. You do indeed get what you ask for.

Orange juice to accompany, in one of those irritating boxed that take a 34 year old 2 hours to open and a 2 year old 3 seconds. I looked in vain for a straw. None. Ikea are selling probably a million of these orange cartons a day and no straws. Not even the little one that used to be glue gunned onto the side of the carton. 

I walked to the cashier – who was aksing her friend something, and asked her ‘we don’t stock straws’. Who the hell ’stocks’ straws? It’s not Lladro or Petunias – it’s cutlery for drinks.

Anyway, we got it open, finished our meals and took the subway back – the thought of the water ferry at night had a ‘US Airways on Final Approach’ feel to it.

179

I don’t want to harp on about it, but that’s my weight in pounds right now. I think that’s 3 Oprah’s (my definition of about 40 pounds, which she wheeled out on a trolley a few years ago, before the cheesecake struck back).

Having calculated my BMI on the NHI website I’m a 25. Which is .1 off of being ‘normal weight’. This is a massive achievement for me – and my insane Dr. who actually gave me a piece of medically sponsored paper with my weight this time last year – and a couple of weeks ago.

Clearly I have lost another 6 pounds since then. So the new me versus the old me is causing some concern to friends who I haven’t seen for some time. I do not have the AIDS, nor Cancer – what I do have is someone in my life who is passionate about food (we watch more food television than anyone I know, by rights we should be the size of houses).

And as you’ll you may see from my Facebook page I have gone to the extent of creating a ‘food porn’ folder – into which I place pictures of the stupendously tasty meals that we are concocting.

When I say ‘we’ I actually mean KK – he does the science part and I’m the big chopper. So much so that I gave my chopping finger a blister just last week. 

It’s been a tough couple of months (we will come onto that) and I think my body has retrenched into looking after itself – which is both welcomed and a welcome distraction.

I suppose what I’m saying is, when the chips are down – don’t eat them.

The two extremes of cuisine.

So on arrival at Anne’s (I know I digress a bit) imagine my delight at seeing that not only is her place attached to a mall (Plaza Singapura) but within that mall there is both a ‘Markses’ and a Carrefour.

Now, apart from being reminded of some dorks at Euro RSCG whenever I hear Carrefour (which if pronounced correctly sounds like Pierre Lecosse clearing his throat) this Carrefour is a mecca to the homemaker shopper that I am. It took everything I had not to stock up on Glad wrap and plastic storage (did I tell you I’m watching Top Chef over here?) but what I did find was the precise exact same ramen that Ratchat had bought in K town a couple of weeks ago. So I promptly bought 6.

Now, the old me wouldn’t DREAM of having noodles, dried fish, salted eggs or other such delights pre lunch, but the NEW ME adores it. So this ramen was not only a connection home – it was an  ‘all-day  me moment’ as we’d say when we were all titting about for Nescafe.

At the other end of the scale KK had put into my little black book the address for a seafood restaurant called ‘No Signboard’. Apparently named because the founder, when he opened it, could not afford a signboard. Today, that no signboard signboard is laser cut from aluminium, much like the service skills of the authoritarian, panicked, yet simultaneously lazy waitstaff. Anne and I HAD to go. They do great buns (and trust me, I love a nice bun).

On arrival under the durian, we sat and gazed at the construction hell that is the new ‘integrated resort’ – that’s Singaporean for ‘casino’. A purgatory of a place that’s sure to bring in no end of trouble. Anyway, if they want it and can manage it (which I’m sure they can) there’s no doubt the economy will benefit.

The star of the show here is Chill Crab. A dish so Singaporean it will walk slowly through a mall in front of you – ensuring that no matter where you intend to walk, it’s always in the way… but unlike so called Singaporean Mall Dweebs, it’s delicious to look at – and to eat. Well, when I say to eat, you’ve kind of got to be into E.R. and Silent Witness to get through it. It can be quite daunting.

cf. Back of shot – friend buns. Cooked to order, little orgasms of dough deep fried and then dipped into the sauce. Delicious. I had one – as I am a grown up.

This dish doesn’t take any prisoners, you have to hammer, beat, tear and pull to get to the succulent meat within, but fuck me it’s worth it. It’s devine. We have one chilli crab and one white pepper crab – and I loved them both equally.

My only concern would be that it’s not THAT spicy. But the view was incredible, the buns were tight and Anne’s face lit up as I became her personal mortician and extracted the seafoody goodness from within.

I think it must be a mandatory stop for anyone into ripping crabs apart. Which should be everyone.

Bringing the Sling, back.

So there I was, at Vivo City (the largest mall in Singapore) ingratiating myself with the locals – in Starbucks and struggling to get online. It’s remarkable that to even use the ‘free’ internet in this wonderful town you have to give your passport number and cell phone. Finally, after a struggle and some calming words from KK I managed to connect.

So it was no real surprise when I started receiving promotional text messages from the state a little later on. Probably wasn’t a good idea to reply to them, following my two beers and glass (or two) of wine over dinner. Hey – ho. If I wake up rendered (as in illegally moved as opposed to fried until the fat drops off me) that will be why.

I had some time to kill, Anne, who appears to be single-handedly running one of the biggest clients in town, was ‘up against it’ so I was chilling with my students at Starbucks.

The dedication to learn here is nothing short of impressive, nor is the Singaporean students cunning/front in ensuring they can learn in comfort and with technology.

As I sat in the Bucks with my palm sizes Asus, 4 students came in, congregated around one table, pulled out an adaptor and plugged their four Dell laptops into the Starbucks grid (the blenders slowed a little bit and somewhere in someone’s HDB the lights went out). One of them proceeded to buy one short drink between the four, and as God is my witness, when I returned (after leaving) some 3 hours later – they were all still there.

Ratchat says often they will all go to the airport to take advantage of the free internet. Smart and economical.

So, anyway, there I was, homesick, lovesick and a littlen bored and suddenly it hit me – I had a Slingbox. Thanks to my lovely little sister (who is 24 and probably detests being called little) who had bought one as a total surprise for me.

So I logged in, and lo and behold in 3 minutes I was watching Top Chef. The only thing that was missing was the arctic New York weather, an airbus in the Hudson and the loving arms of KK around me. Heck. I’ll take what I can get here in the tropics. It was a little touch of home and love and it warmed me up no end.