Food Adventures in my Hometown

I could not resist the offer by the Indian vendor offering curry puffs from a banana leaf layered basket he was carrying. The potato and chicken concoction beneath the wholesome pastry, when bit into, suggested a succulence of orange-brown coloured spiciness, and when mixed with the unusual onion ring pickles, took me back to my childhood.

It was the morning before I flew to Singapore. Here I was in the heart of Georgetown, Penang, culminating my adventures of food unique to the island, a long established melting pot of various cuisines, local fusion and sea-faring delicacies. I was in the Kheng Pin coffee shop along Penang Road, which also offered Hainan steamed chicken rice with a class above and comparable to what Singapore outlets made at a higher asking price. A few days ago, across the street, I dunked crispy savoury roti pancakes into three types of curry, not as watery as in Sydney's Chinatown, but with a more solid flavour and aromatic arouser to the appetite. European back packers seemed to take an affinity to these pancakes, very easy to eat despite being under the higher humidity and stronger sun of the equatorial belt.

I have a preference for the provincial cuisine of Chiuchao in southern China, and when good friends took me to partake the Teochew-styled duck, a peppery creation doused with other blended flavours in lean cuts, I was in ecstasy! Other lunchers around us were tucking in steamboat, even during a hot afternoon outside, but I preferred the unique dishes accompanied with rice or noodles at this long running restaurant called Goh Huat Seng, another landmark restaurant in the old bustling quarter of Georgetown's so-called Chinatown district.

One thing I do not get at all in Australia's Chinatowns are the oyster omelettes inspired from Fujian province in China and which its chief city, Xiamen, readily offers. Many of the Penang Chinese have a Hokkien heritage tracing back to hundreds of years, and to be able to taste it, even if once a year, overcomes any concerns for sea pollution, high cholesterol and iodine excess.

Another evening, whilst catching up with Seng Fatt and Shirley and their two daughters, Samantha and Becky, I came across two stand-out dishes - fish curry and roast chicken - at Soon Lai, located amongst residential houses in the Green Lane area. I was more than happy to relax in a Perth-originated cafe chain outlet called Dome and liked its decor and the fact that their waiting staff had to don French styled caps as if they were beside the River Seine in Paris. As it was the Lunar New Year, I appreciated Mum's traditional insistence to have a fatt choy dish (made of braised black seaweed and other expensive but auspicious sounding named seafood) at the family dinner out. I have seen seaweed along the Wollongong coast but this was another dimension all together.

The morning after I arrived, I jumped for joy sampling the variety of food at the Campaki at Hotel Equatorial. Sea urchin, eels in marinade, California rolls and green tea ice cream came to my mind - and more. That same evening, I had my annual taste of pandan-flavoured chicken at a small, unassuming Thai cafe called Mama's in another suburban housing area. An elderly aunt always gets the family the multi-layered cake, reeking of cinnamon and vanilla,delicious but expensive. Another Lunar New Year practice is the partaking of the yee sang, an ingenious salad with salmon bits included into a heady mix of crispy and fresh thin slices of vegetable cuts, then finally stirred with various sauces, including vinegar, plum sauce and the like.

All these commercial outlets had to contend with home cooking. My sister-in-law turns out mouth watering pineapple tarts. Mum makes the most soul-stabilising kong tau yew bak ( pork in soy sauce) and sambal udang (prawn curry). My aunt Kuchai comes up with the best nasi lemak set, complete with the special curry with a kick that goes just perfect with the coconut cream flavoured rice. Then both women go neck to neck with their home-made lobak, chicken curry , fish curry and herbal soups. I actually put on an additional three kilograms in ten days. Enough said! And I have not even mentioned about the fresh garoupas from a farm off the coast in Province Wellesley, courtesy of a brother's godmother.

One Night in Singapore

Immigration officials at Changi Airport do smile.

Once out at Terminal Two arrival hall, I felt the spaciousness of clean, tiled floors protected in air-conditioned comfort by glass doors that led to what I imagined would contain a blast of humid warm air once I got out there. However, it was a balmy cool night once Karen caught up with me and walked me to the Audi A4, in which Chet was waiting. There is a certain feel about Singapore, night or day, in which the canopy of carefully planned road side trees moderate the equatorial air, lower the intensity of deep urban planning and blend in carefully with the orange-coloured sodium street lights. The double decked SBS buses proclaim adverts shouting out "Uniquely Singapore" which led the three of us to a lively discussion as to the more appropriate theme going forward to attract tourists - I nominate "Snug Singapore".

Snug because the island nation provides an orderly haven for visitors dropping by between other places. Snug as well due to the compact size of the place. Despite its size, I felt safe, calmed and structured by the reliability of language used, relative friendliness and lawful modernity. Snug because I love the variety of its shops and products. Snug due to the fact that I can cover the whole main island in one day, albeit a bit rushed and not lingering too long at any one place. Snug because I can party the whole night and yet find food and dessert late. Karen took us to a rather unusual dessert place, eating an icy cold concoction of mango and pomelo with one's choice of ice cream or jelly, sitting on a five-foot way along Liang Seah Street near Bugis Junction at 11pm. Snug because Chet could then drive to the airport in twenty minutes and I could still leisurely board my flight on time.

Chet and Karen also chose a most snug place for dinner. A former cluster of the British Army barracks, Dempsey Hill has been transformed into a lifestyle village, primarily concentrating in offering a diverse choice of dining. We settled for the Jumbo, which in my opinion, has the most delectable chili crab and gravy, the national dish, and also a rather surprising kick of southern Indian mee goreng. The live water prawns offered an inherent subtle sweetness and flavour. I compared the crispy fish that stood up tall in contrast with the deep fried flounder found in Sydney's Asian suburbs, and the latter is the winner.

Return to Balgownie

The lawn grass had turned into a straw-like yellow, consistent in dryness like a change of coloured carpet. The geraniums on the side had shrivelled leaves and thinned flowering blooms and buds, reflecting a change in the weather pattern whilst I was away from Australia. Adelaide and Melbourne had recorded a maximum of 43.8 degrees Celsius in the days just gone past, but I did not expect such effects in New South Wales. I recalled the burnt brown leaves one New Year's Day upon my return from Tasmania, and especially the smell of burnt bush hanging in the air even as I just stepped outside Sydney Airport. There was no such intensity this first day of February, but the mandarin shrub had turned obviously yellow. with little green left in its leaves.

The cricket was on for most of the rest of the day, having been telecast live from Perth, on the other side of the continent. King Federer was due to give his crown to younger Spaniard Rafael Nadal later that night in the Australian Open in Melbourne. One of my neighbours had kindly placed my Sunday paper delivery neatly near my front door. Even if not significant, there was a bit of drowsiness from somehow losing three hours off the clock flying across from Singapore.

My office looked the same as I left it - having been reliably looked after by good mates. I had to quickly get back to the routines and demands of the business. The evenings turned out to be more oppressive in heat than when I left the place just before my holidays. Restarting my home kitchen was always a possible challenge after being leisurely fed by family and friends during the festive break away, but I commenced with a curry and a herbal soup. On the third night I ventured back to the local supermarket after the night air had cooled down, but they were closing soon after I arrived and I could not even get the things I had intended to purchase.

Some things do change. A colleague I enjoyed working with was leaving after seven years, and I arranged for a few of us to enjoy a lunch with her near the waterfront.
I was pleasantly surprised when my previously black moore turned golden orangy in colour, perhaps due to water conditions in the tank or her diet when I was away,but for the Lunar New Year, it is indeed truly special. My car still had the crackling electronic sound which was still unexplained when I got it checked at the service yard before I left. It was truly amazing when the sound stopped, albeit temporarily, when Chris drove it - but the strange audio came back when I took the wheels again to go to the supermarket.

A Special Week

One more week to an overseas stint away from the routine in Wollongong.

I started with a lovely , relaxed lunch with a buddy who had just came back from a sojourn himself, with both of us sitting in an old-fashioned balcony overlooking one of the town's shopping and cafe streets. We exchanged views with each other and listened intently to what we had been doing for the past few weeks.

The week had partly offered some personal goodbyes and a departure from what I have taken for granted. We had gathered to ostensibly mark the leaving of someone I have known well for another country, albeit temporarily,but we all knew this rite of passage was important to accept the moving-ons from a cultivated past to an exciting future. Another came to let me know personally her leaving the office. They are at an age when they can make choices, know they have to do it now instead of waiting and acted with their heart.

The weekend before, in just a single day, I drove 346km. I also had the opportunity of accompanying JJ, the lovable Labrador of a cousin in Baulkham Hills, for a 2km walk. This was refreshing to me on a cool early evening after a hot summer's day. Earlier in the afternoon, I had climbed 100 steps from the beach to the cliff top road. That morning I had woken up at 650am, and commenced the long drive to a Sydney suburb.

Karson and Salina, together with 9 year old son Brayden and four year daughter Annsley (whom I met delightfully met for the very first time, had arrived on the Sunday night before from a Qantas flight into Sydney. I had not seen the parents for years and I was so happy that I could have a late supper (yes, Sydney does have restaurants open in its Chinatown past midnight) and then, on a lark, drove all of them across the Harbour Bridge and then returned to the cbd via the Harbour Tunnel. We all had free rein on the city streets at the unearthly hour of 2am.

It was also great to visit and know that Aunt Doris was recovering well.

And nothing is complete with some food experience. What about soft crabs, duck and fish done in a regional Thai style at the Papaya, in suburban Croydon. The ambiance was tropical relaxing, though quickly filled up with customers by 730 in the twilight. Joyce and I found the taste not totally authentic and there were hints of modification which may suit the clientele in Sydney's lower north shore.

Best of all, after along day at work and dinner out, we still were welcomed by Charmaine and Chris for home made expresso coffee with a kick, even if it was rather late on a school night. All of us could just be ourselves - the most relaxing state. This summed up the common thread in my most special week.

Signs In The Sky

Approach to Milson's Point Rail Station, North Shore Sydney City, 2am, 1 Jan 2009

New Year's Eve in Burwood, a Sydney suburb,, and I was fortunate to partake in white turkey, baby abalone and flat flounder. All done in Vietnamese- Chiuchao style. 2009 beckoned in just a few hours after dinner!

My car had casually passed by Wicks Road in North Ryde and we were curious about the crowds that had gathered in front of an oval. Then we spotted the top part of the Harbour Bridge beckoning in the distance, blocked by the tops of trees, and realised that they were all waiting for the 9pm fireworks. I got to chat with a friendly
Brit couple who had migrated to Oz not too long ago but appreciated being here.

At Artarmon train station, in Sydney's lower North Shore, many blue eyed youth were lining up for the train tickets. It was all very civil but what we did not realise then, and only found out in the wee hours of the New Year's, was that Sydney City Rail was offering free rides that evening. There was no sign or notice anyway of that at Artarmon. Most of us were just looking forward to see the Harbour Bridge fireworks.

My group alighted at Milson Point's station and settled in at Kirribilli. As you can imagine for Sydney, the crowd was as cosmopolitan and varied as can be - many
Spanish eyes; teenagers weeing against the wall; slinking low undies as fashionable gear; a cohort of Indian families; romantic couples, young and old;and so forth. All eyes were glued to the remarkable harbour side view on the east side of the coat hanger Bridge. A Chinese teenage guy came up to me to have a friendly chat; he was with his school mates and felt liberated and easy on this night of nights. The evening was still humid and warm and many used paper fans, waving away frenetically.

When the midnight firework display got going, what impressed me were the round pollen ball fireworks, horizontal sprays and sprouting fountain displays along the length of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Something very different offered - amazing when this was a tradition that has been carried out some twenty years, if not more.
What was even more fascinating were the artificially created lightning and thunder sequences created by the firework providers as a prelude to the main show.

The train ride back to my car in Artarmon proved to be both an eye opener and unwanted experience for my group. We waited an hour for the tsunami of passing people making their way from the bay up the slopes to the rail station and then thought it was safe to join them.

Once we were headed to Milson's Point Station itself, we took another 45 minutes before we actually got on to a train. What happened to the orderly system utilised at the Sydney Olympic Games? I felt like in an uncontrolled public scenario - I felt pressing back packs, sweaty patience and physical endurance as all of us endured the crush and push into the rail station. A Lebanese teenager used my shoulders to rest his arms when it got unbearable - this was unsolicited as I did not even know him, but there was no need to complain, and the only option was to share the experience, I guess.