We may only recognise the full value of appreciated things until we no longer have it. I remind myself to take ten minutes a day to realise what went right and what was achieved each day. The proportion of problems to achievements usually fall into
5 and 95 percent respectively. And then - aren't problems also opportunities?
Ninety days have passed through in the so-called new year. I have had reunions, catch-ups and meetings with people I think really matter. I also acknowledge that I should see other people dear to my heart as well - and have not. Summer this time had not been intense. The mint in my back yard has revitalised these hot autumn days coupled with its coolish nights. The icebergs and yellow bush roses are starting to bloom. Every time I go into a department store or hotel, I want to re-organise my home. When I put my mind to it, I rediscover the joys of cooking.
I have kept on pursuing some things important to me, but there has been no tangible result. At the same time, I take secret delight in things that have gone well. I cherish the smiles of individuals who in their own special ways let me know they are there for me. I have had the pleasure and fortune to get to know certain personalities better. There was also an awakening in me to balance my life after work in better fashion with life working. I am glad that I have turned around unpleasant encounters into something useful, underlying the old adage of it's all how we react to things thrown at us that is most critical - and not the things themselves.
Starting with fireworks over the Sydney Harbour Bridge on New Year's Eve, and now on the cusp of Easter, Ching Ming, Songkran, the Hindu New Year and all these festivals that congregate in April, I fully take in that the experience is the journey and not the destination. I most fondly recall my return to Penang Hill in my home city; cooking rissoles; riding a citicat boat along the Brisbane River, with the wind full on my face; enjoying a late night dessert along Liang Seah Street, Singapore; tucking in Haberfield, Sydney; and enjoying work with one of the best teams in my career. There are more, like the karaoke night with Mum, brothers and Aunty Kuchai and company in her house. And freshly cooked meals prepared from the inner heart, wherever I go visit. All these give me the motivation, courage and excitement to go even more forward.
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments
Friday, 27 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Brisbane Revisited
Singapore noodles (char bee hoon) at 20 Aussie dollars a plate? I could get that for half the price even in downtown Sydney. And a quarter of that price in Singapore itself. Maybe I was at a touristy place, a food joint in the middle of Queen Street Mall. Couple that with a huge glass of fat yak, teenagers hanging around as in any cbd and a lively air unexpected of a Tuesday night. Welcome to Brisbane.
The evening before, there were a fair share of fitness-conscious runners and group barbies humming along the South Bank. When Shane arrived from Adelaide late at night, we had gone over for a quick drink - and chose to have it in an unusual combination of a a liquor shop with a serving bar. I had never seen one like that in other parts of Oz, but I do not exactly hold a good record of pub-hopping. Welcome to Brisbane.
Queen Street Mall has always fascinated me, whether after a State of Origin NRL game between NSW and Queensland, or on an unassuming evening after a whole day of conference. In late March, the air is till balmy and inviting. I think it must be one of the longest pedestrian malls Down Under. This time, I realised that it is not flat like Pitt Street Mall in Sydney or Bourke Street in Melbourne, but actually has an incline. What I also did not expect was a teenage guy begging for money - not in Brisbane I thought, with the same aghast when I first encountered such beggars along George Street in Sydney CBD in the mid-nineties.
On the other hand, there was a pleasant surprise in encountering a sort of compact marsupial under the moon light in the river side Botanical Gardens. The creature, with endearing big eyes, was as taken aback as us on a wide clear path. It seemed to be nursing an injured limb. We could see the Wheel of Brisbane, in all its white fluorescent glory, across the Brisbane River. The river is the pulse of Brisbane, offering secret delights and perspectives. Mine this time was to feel the wind in my face, as I stood at the front of a Citicat boat chugging up to Queensland University at St. Lucia. The deck hand had to tie the ropes up each time we approached a stop -and there were many. He then had to untie them when we left. Observing this gave me a sense of rhythm about life on the river banks - a timelessness of routine, patience and getting things done.
I loved using the waffle machine at breakfast one morning, churning them out before splashing each piece with honey. The gadget operated automatically, although it gave a human feel to the experience, providing supple waffles of the right taste and texture every time.
Oh ya, the stir-fried rice vermicelli ala Singapore was indeed delicious, better than in Sydney. It was garnished with lots of fresh and spicy-hot red chili cuts. Even the convention centre food was great. I was reluctant to leave Brisbane.
The evening before, there were a fair share of fitness-conscious runners and group barbies humming along the South Bank. When Shane arrived from Adelaide late at night, we had gone over for a quick drink - and chose to have it in an unusual combination of a a liquor shop with a serving bar. I had never seen one like that in other parts of Oz, but I do not exactly hold a good record of pub-hopping. Welcome to Brisbane.
Queen Street Mall has always fascinated me, whether after a State of Origin NRL game between NSW and Queensland, or on an unassuming evening after a whole day of conference. In late March, the air is till balmy and inviting. I think it must be one of the longest pedestrian malls Down Under. This time, I realised that it is not flat like Pitt Street Mall in Sydney or Bourke Street in Melbourne, but actually has an incline. What I also did not expect was a teenage guy begging for money - not in Brisbane I thought, with the same aghast when I first encountered such beggars along George Street in Sydney CBD in the mid-nineties.
On the other hand, there was a pleasant surprise in encountering a sort of compact marsupial under the moon light in the river side Botanical Gardens. The creature, with endearing big eyes, was as taken aback as us on a wide clear path. It seemed to be nursing an injured limb. We could see the Wheel of Brisbane, in all its white fluorescent glory, across the Brisbane River. The river is the pulse of Brisbane, offering secret delights and perspectives. Mine this time was to feel the wind in my face, as I stood at the front of a Citicat boat chugging up to Queensland University at St. Lucia. The deck hand had to tie the ropes up each time we approached a stop -and there were many. He then had to untie them when we left. Observing this gave me a sense of rhythm about life on the river banks - a timelessness of routine, patience and getting things done.
I loved using the waffle machine at breakfast one morning, churning them out before splashing each piece with honey. The gadget operated automatically, although it gave a human feel to the experience, providing supple waffles of the right taste and texture every time.
Oh ya, the stir-fried rice vermicelli ala Singapore was indeed delicious, better than in Sydney. It was garnished with lots of fresh and spicy-hot red chili cuts. Even the convention centre food was great. I was reluctant to leave Brisbane.
Cracks on the Business Wall
What makes a reputable business fall on its feet? Perhaps not having the courage and culture to continually change. Maybe in having a narrow vision of near term returns to the detriment of missing out on having both stakeholder financial and customer satisfaction viability in the long run. It is also possible that staff, especially those dealing with clients, are not well trained.
On a recent flight on Qantas from Sydney to Brisbane last Sunday night, the food provided to economy class passengers was dismal - exactly four chips, an avocado-based dip and a token biscuit. This is not a budget airline, nor do passengers are expected to tighten their belts. It was apparently a classic case of the business only considering its short-sighted perspectives. No orange juice was available when requested, and the shared video system had also seemingly broken down by nightfall, after it was assured to us that it had been working all right all day long. Not good enough. We do not want expensive adverts to excite us as customers, but only a reliable quality of service and attention to detail when we actually use Qantas services.
Earlier, I was rather shocked when the driver of a commercial home to airport transport service asked me which terminal I was going to take my flight - and also called me by an incorrect name. Leisure Coast has the records, and for most of the time, its drivers are courteous, alert and sociable when dealing with passengers, especially repeat passengers. This was not expected.
Rydges South Bank in Brisbane, on the other hand, had a most innovative idea in reducing the need to queue in front of the reception counter, by the introduction of an option by customers to check in via the internet before they actually arrive. If a such a guest arrives late in the night, or after a long journey, he or she can have his key card ready to be picked up immediately at the counter, and then head straight to some well deserved rest. Some big city airports can consider a variation of this idea.
Conventions can be big business and profitable. A professional body keeps on reminding its conference delegates to write and provide detailed feedback - and this year was no different. The amazing thing was that the delegates do not receive feedback from the organisers. In choosing the Brisbane Convention Centre, the organisers did get a viable food caterer, which offered very tasty lamb stews and chicken curry to feed the diverse lunchtime crowd of at least 600 individual attendees. Why the organisers still fail to attract more participation to the official dinner was not resolved satisfactorily - and this time does not have to do with the food at all.
On a recent flight on Qantas from Sydney to Brisbane last Sunday night, the food provided to economy class passengers was dismal - exactly four chips, an avocado-based dip and a token biscuit. This is not a budget airline, nor do passengers are expected to tighten their belts. It was apparently a classic case of the business only considering its short-sighted perspectives. No orange juice was available when requested, and the shared video system had also seemingly broken down by nightfall, after it was assured to us that it had been working all right all day long. Not good enough. We do not want expensive adverts to excite us as customers, but only a reliable quality of service and attention to detail when we actually use Qantas services.
Earlier, I was rather shocked when the driver of a commercial home to airport transport service asked me which terminal I was going to take my flight - and also called me by an incorrect name. Leisure Coast has the records, and for most of the time, its drivers are courteous, alert and sociable when dealing with passengers, especially repeat passengers. This was not expected.
Rydges South Bank in Brisbane, on the other hand, had a most innovative idea in reducing the need to queue in front of the reception counter, by the introduction of an option by customers to check in via the internet before they actually arrive. If a such a guest arrives late in the night, or after a long journey, he or she can have his key card ready to be picked up immediately at the counter, and then head straight to some well deserved rest. Some big city airports can consider a variation of this idea.
Conventions can be big business and profitable. A professional body keeps on reminding its conference delegates to write and provide detailed feedback - and this year was no different. The amazing thing was that the delegates do not receive feedback from the organisers. In choosing the Brisbane Convention Centre, the organisers did get a viable food caterer, which offered very tasty lamb stews and chicken curry to feed the diverse lunchtime crowd of at least 600 individual attendees. Why the organisers still fail to attract more participation to the official dinner was not resolved satisfactorily - and this time does not have to do with the food at all.
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Shanghai Revisited
On a Saturday evening on the autumn equinox,there was a festive air in Sydney's little Shanghai. I had not been there for months, and yet it was all familiar to me, the parade of brightly lit restaurants and cafes packed with engaged diners and busy staff. Lunar New Year and Valentines were over, but Ching Ming, a day of ancestral worship, was coming in two weeks' time. The night air was not cold and the day had been hot.
We expected, and looked forward to, the dumplings with hot soup steamed inside with pork meat balls. This time the pastry was thin and melted nicely into the inner ingredients. The cook must have been happy that day making these - it showed in the results. Prawns lightly sauteed and eaten with a dash of chili oil turned out to be appetising. We did not order noodles but relied on the basics - steamed white rice. The rice blended better with the plain looking salted duck cuts, a speciality of the central Chinese coast.
Alex remarked that the better ingredients available in Australia - and the fact that a generation of older chefs in Shanghai had been lost to past political turmoil and emigration - had contributed to his observation that Shanghai food tasted even better here than in its original birth place. For example, the pickled stir-fried vegetable slices reminded me more of Japanese food than my perceptions of Chinese, but when using Australian produce, moved me to another dimension in the mouth.
Chicken giblets, pig ears and duck tongues were cooked in variety of ways and displayed at the entrance, where waiting customers could stare longingly at such dishes. My eyes were drawn to the roast duck - the Shanghai version looked more dry but still delicious, the culinary creation achieved in a very different way from its northern and southern competing cuisines in Beijing and Guangzhou.
We were surrounded by fair skinned diners with sharp features and contrasting dark eyebrows, eyes and hair. Shanghai has a language of its own, apart from Mandarin, and its locals also look slightly different from southern Chinese. They can be the most commercial-minded people in the variety that is China. As Shanghai is not the national capital, perhaps its denizens and culture have the instinctive hunger to be the best, just like New York to Washington D.C., or Milan to Rome.
We expected, and looked forward to, the dumplings with hot soup steamed inside with pork meat balls. This time the pastry was thin and melted nicely into the inner ingredients. The cook must have been happy that day making these - it showed in the results. Prawns lightly sauteed and eaten with a dash of chili oil turned out to be appetising. We did not order noodles but relied on the basics - steamed white rice. The rice blended better with the plain looking salted duck cuts, a speciality of the central Chinese coast.
Alex remarked that the better ingredients available in Australia - and the fact that a generation of older chefs in Shanghai had been lost to past political turmoil and emigration - had contributed to his observation that Shanghai food tasted even better here than in its original birth place. For example, the pickled stir-fried vegetable slices reminded me more of Japanese food than my perceptions of Chinese, but when using Australian produce, moved me to another dimension in the mouth.
Chicken giblets, pig ears and duck tongues were cooked in variety of ways and displayed at the entrance, where waiting customers could stare longingly at such dishes. My eyes were drawn to the roast duck - the Shanghai version looked more dry but still delicious, the culinary creation achieved in a very different way from its northern and southern competing cuisines in Beijing and Guangzhou.
We were surrounded by fair skinned diners with sharp features and contrasting dark eyebrows, eyes and hair. Shanghai has a language of its own, apart from Mandarin, and its locals also look slightly different from southern Chinese. They can be the most commercial-minded people in the variety that is China. As Shanghai is not the national capital, perhaps its denizens and culture have the instinctive hunger to be the best, just like New York to Washington D.C., or Milan to Rome.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Alessandro and the Ricotta Cheesecake
It was a feast not just for the palate, but also for the eyes. I could sense the texture of freshly made Peppes pasta, be it chili linguine or spinach flavoured. The range of biscottis, formaggis and hand made Colefax chocolates overwhelmed my attention. Easter is coming - and there were giant bunnies, lolly eggshells and hot cross buns. The rich aroma of freshly baked stuff from ovens reminded me of continental holidays. The collective feel of Saturday morning groups shopping and sharing similar passions brought me home to what is meant as one family and village.
I had previously frequented Haberfield only for dinner evenings, often wondering what was behind the closed doors of cafes, grocery outlets and fruit shops. Having the opportunity to visit it in the daytime was an eye opener. Fresh green olives beamed in their colour. The vodka laced pasta at La Grotta offered an agreeable orange coloured sauce that hinted of rose and savoury delight. We did not go check out the butcher Mario's, due to lack of time, or maybe the convenience of being enthralled in a circle of magical shops so close to each other, near the junction of Dalhousie and Ramsay Streets, was too difficult to get out of! Gelato after lunch on a summery day sounded logical and I had hazelnut flavoured richness - after deciding not to go for some curious egg based choice.
If there was one hall mark moment to illustrate that day, it was chatting with Alessandro about the choice of cakes in the family-homely outlet that he works - Sulfaro. With an earnest face and two super friendly eyes, he took me through the fresh offerings available - and I settled for the ricotta cheesecake. A very good choice it turned out to be, for later at a house party that evening, it was accepted very well. I found it not too sweet, with just the right texture, not too soft and just leaving a superb after taste in the mouth. There were queues in this shop, and everyone else seemed to know what they were coming here for.
We had started with a cuppa at the Espresso Galleria - that was good, especially for me having driven up from Wollongong. I landed up giving up my resistance to get two packets of Itorroncini Sperlari - check it out. At Zafettis, which specialises in unique products on its shelves, I could not go past the pickled red chillies made in Italy. Good to eat with the Cantonese rice noodles called hor fun - what a fusion idea. I could not leave the Little General olive oil bottle, looking so smart but alone, on the shelf of another shop - I rescued it.
The next afternoon, whilst catching a Rockdale Musical Society presentation of Miss Saigon, I had urges of living in a village where everybody knows my name. The stage demonstrated the pangs of being caught between two cultures, of how apparently momentary decisions can haunt individuals many years later and of how war can wreck personal lives. I thought, how nice it was on that Saturday afternoon in Haberfield, for me and my friends, to be able to absorb ourselves peacefully in apparently another culture - but one that shares so many comparable and similar passions for family, food and fraternity. Thanks Chris, Charmaine, Cindy for walking the route with me. I especially recall when Ashleigh and Catlin were with me in the bread shop queue, patiently waiting for me in my eagerness to get the hot cross buns - that was wonderful, with each of us taking in the character of the bakery, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
I had previously frequented Haberfield only for dinner evenings, often wondering what was behind the closed doors of cafes, grocery outlets and fruit shops. Having the opportunity to visit it in the daytime was an eye opener. Fresh green olives beamed in their colour. The vodka laced pasta at La Grotta offered an agreeable orange coloured sauce that hinted of rose and savoury delight. We did not go check out the butcher Mario's, due to lack of time, or maybe the convenience of being enthralled in a circle of magical shops so close to each other, near the junction of Dalhousie and Ramsay Streets, was too difficult to get out of! Gelato after lunch on a summery day sounded logical and I had hazelnut flavoured richness - after deciding not to go for some curious egg based choice.
If there was one hall mark moment to illustrate that day, it was chatting with Alessandro about the choice of cakes in the family-homely outlet that he works - Sulfaro. With an earnest face and two super friendly eyes, he took me through the fresh offerings available - and I settled for the ricotta cheesecake. A very good choice it turned out to be, for later at a house party that evening, it was accepted very well. I found it not too sweet, with just the right texture, not too soft and just leaving a superb after taste in the mouth. There were queues in this shop, and everyone else seemed to know what they were coming here for.
We had started with a cuppa at the Espresso Galleria - that was good, especially for me having driven up from Wollongong. I landed up giving up my resistance to get two packets of Itorroncini Sperlari - check it out. At Zafettis, which specialises in unique products on its shelves, I could not go past the pickled red chillies made in Italy. Good to eat with the Cantonese rice noodles called hor fun - what a fusion idea. I could not leave the Little General olive oil bottle, looking so smart but alone, on the shelf of another shop - I rescued it.
The next afternoon, whilst catching a Rockdale Musical Society presentation of Miss Saigon, I had urges of living in a village where everybody knows my name. The stage demonstrated the pangs of being caught between two cultures, of how apparently momentary decisions can haunt individuals many years later and of how war can wreck personal lives. I thought, how nice it was on that Saturday afternoon in Haberfield, for me and my friends, to be able to absorb ourselves peacefully in apparently another culture - but one that shares so many comparable and similar passions for family, food and fraternity. Thanks Chris, Charmaine, Cindy for walking the route with me. I especially recall when Ashleigh and Catlin were with me in the bread shop queue, patiently waiting for me in my eagerness to get the hot cross buns - that was wonderful, with each of us taking in the character of the bakery, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)