Evidence of Cooking 2

Today I had to cook a one-dish meal for myself. I kinda felt like bolognaise but didn't have proper tomato puree and cheese, so I thawed out some ground beef and made some of Grace's special sauce! Onions, peppers, Japanese Mirrin, a dash of mustard, some tomato puree, salt & pepper - and I had my very own Singapore bolognaise sauce. Today's pasta was farfelle, on offer at Target and I think when the bows cook, they actually look quite pretty.

Perry Street on a Friday Night

One night we did the New York thing. We made reservations in a

michelin-star restuarant in the West Village - and had the prix fixed dinner menu. It was great, the food was delicious and we ate while the sun came down over the Hudson.

So we got started on the carparccio (it was beet which we mistakenly read as b-e-e-f, and wondering why on earth the

meat was so purplish and jello-ed) and the table next to us fills up.

Party of 4 middle-aged Americans looking like they were ready to enjoy an evening of relaxed catching up. Sometime later, the conversation starts (and I can't help it, because you know,

Americans speak really clearly and firmly over many things...).

Pregnant Lady: "So, you know, I'm already 40 and I thought since I've always wanted to have a baby, why not now? So I talked to my really good friend and he's really cool and very understanding (both he and his partner) and its like yes, you know, I want to know who the donor is, at least. And we thought we'd go ahead. So I didn't tell anyone until it worked, cuz you know, its amazing the reaction from everyone - and well, its been amazing,...yes I'm 4 months now."

Friend 1: Wow! Congratulations, so you worked out everything else?

Pregnant Lady: Yeah, pretty much. Mike's really sweet about it but I told him that I really wanted to take care of all the rest myself, you know like daily expenses and bringing him or her up which I know I can do. And he offered to see if he could cover, like the big items..

Friend 2: yeah, you know like the Ivy League education *Laughs*

- Table laughs -

Friend 1: So did you pretty much have to repeat the whole story to everyone? I can't imagine their reactions..

Pregnant Lady: *laugh* telling the office was the one - I mean I just KNOW they had all these questions and were like not sure how to ask, I got alot of "So was it planned?" which is pretty much "So who's the father?" which is what everyone Really wanted to know. Mich's parents don't know yet, they Irish, which is...yeah [Friends nod sympathetically] ...first they had to hear that their son was gay, and this is gonna be..yeah

And the evening goes on, from entree to main to dessert, J and I are pretty much munching on our food and their conversation. I guess I am surprised at my naivety in thinking that these things only happen in celluloid - like in an episode of SATC. And I tell myself, that's exactly why I am here, to understand that there are 6 billion people in the world who operate on very different planes, and life can be viewed and lived so differently.

Evidence of Cooking 1

This is Yaki Udon which didn't taste so bad at all - and a BIG thing for a girl who doesn't cook at all.

In a New York Minute

Now that some time has passed, I've finally gotten a timetable of sorts. I like it because it is a routine, but with chunks of time that I can still decide what to do with. So I thought I'd document my activities here as useful material for future scrapbooking projects!

Monday
9.00 - 12.15 - MBA Class: Private Sector and International Development
1.10 - 2.25 - Art History: East Asian Art

Tuesday
11.00 - 12.15 - Art History: The History of Modern Art
2.00 - 5.00 - Volunteer: World Vision New York Office

Wednesday
1.10 - 2.25 - Art History: East Asian Art

Thursday
11.00 - 12.15 - Art History: The History of Modern Art

Friday
School Holiday

In between, Wednesday is usually housework day and Saturday designated for laundry. Weekends are for completing my readings for the week. Most weekday nights are for cooking projects and making sure that I graduate from pure survival cooking to semi-gourmet cooking (I use the word gourmet very loosely!). Keeping my eyes and ears open on the non-profit job scene in London also makes sure that I know what's going on in the next continent I'll have to call home. Slide pound! Keep sliding!

Shopping is incredibly good in US, it's amazing the value you can get for your dollar. It's so easy to go on a shopping frenzy because you can get designer labels slashed by half everyday. Plus, there are ways to get discounts to almost every chain store here if you're careful enough to trawl websites for coupons before hitting the shops. It is really hard to stop comparing the prices and the selection here to the incredibly marked up prices and paltry choices at home unless you, through sheer force of will, clear your head and ask yourself, "do I really need another pair of shoes, even though they are less than $20 bucks?"

Reading "Three Cups of Tea" reminded me that when you're living for a purpose other than yourself, the pursuit of more and materialism doesn't have to be the overriding, hypnotic force that governs your life. It's so easy to go back home everyday, wishing you had that something that you stopped yourself from buying, or you had something that someone else bought and then think, "aiya...why I have no money ah?"

Gosh, now I'm even eyeing girls who come out holding their H&M plastic bags, wondering what they bought and whether there was a discount. That IS sad. But I guess it'll never end unless I put a stop to it.

Yes I know for a fact that when you deliberately keep life simple and focus on what is important, it doesn't need to be like this. And darn it if I don't make that happen here, even in the capital of materialism of the world. I remember again the wonderful thing about working in a non-profit is that you meet wonderful people with simple lives, but far from simple or simplistic goals.

The doormen of 434

Student housing is like russian roulette or Da Xiao. You place your bets, wait for the magic numbers to show up and see whether yours is a winner!

We were so blessed to be allowed an apartment on the corner of a main street that was very near school. Its a great little place that is quiet (not so near the subway but its okay). To me, the best thing about our apartment are the men in blue-trimmed uniforms who greet us with a little wave, a smile, or the day's weather report, at different times of each day.

There's Nick - the daytime and regular fiesty cigarette-smokin' Greek (not Italian.."I Can't believe she called me an ITALIAN!") whose father worked on the Burma railroad when he was getting a private school education. Nick always gives us the news - AND then The News. He's shared with us his conspiracy theory on rich Jews, immigrants and the Congress.

And Orlando - the elderly half-deaf hispanic man with the white beard. We always greet each other with "Hola!" because I suspect he hears little else. He comes in for the evening shift and always turns on the heating fan for his feet under the table.

Then there's Bill - my favourite door man because he looks just like a kindly grandfather and says "hi sweetie" whenever I come in. We hear about a son but never about his wife. Bill stays alone in a rented room around the Bronx and comes in on the weekends and odd hours. He always tells us to bundle up and have a great day.

Somehow there's something really comforting about their constant presence at our lobby after a cold, mad day out on the NY streets. They hand us our parcels that come in the mail from the little room that they unlock when we show up. Last year, I was surprised that the husband remembered our doormen when it came to buying gifts during the holiday. Now I understand why.

Unidentified Flying Chicken

I'm not a big fan of chicken wings. But the husband is on a quest to find the best chicken wings in NY, and I am thinking, eh why want to eat chicken wings in NY huh, since we have the real (and cheap) stuff at home already? (start from Commonwealth market, then travel 2 miles to Ikea, then if you want travel across causeway to eat Ayam Goreng, then got time go north and eat Gai Yang in Thailand then..)

Anyway, THE place to go to is K-town's Bonchon Chicken, only opens from 4pm onwards and like everything else, is just a little more expensive being in Manhatten. That explains why I haven't gone, like who goes to K-town just to eat chicken wings?

After some investigation, it was revealed that the REAL Deal could be found at Unidentified Flying Chicken, which had landed in a Koreanised part of Brooklyn we had yet to explore.

So we (I reluctantly) schelpped down to identify this place with the ridiculous name. 3 subway transfers later, we found the place - once, just to make sure it existed, the second time to actually order the wings.

20 wings came with 2 free sides. We got garlic soy and tangy mustard flavours with baked fries - the salad just to ease the guilt. It WAS good. Crunchy and juicy even tho they were oven-baked. Flavourfully salty with a touch of sweet.

After 13 wings and 2 sides, we packed up the rest for dinner ...and more for lunch the next day. I felt sick for the rest of the day because I've never had 8 pieces of fried chicken for lunch before. But I guess the chicken wing outing was a good way to learn, when it came to wings in an angmoh place, Koreans really ruled the roost.

A Conversation between Mother and Son

I like children. I like them as people because they are funny and most importantly, most children I know receive the best care ever from parents who love them to bits (thankfully). While walking from school on a chilly evening, this was what I overheard from a mother-and-son pair next to me.

Mother (tall woman holding the hand of a little 5-year old): "I didn't know it was going to be so cold today. It was fine when we left home this morning wasn't it? I think if it gets colder, maybe you should wear your fleece, don't you think?"

Boy (walking studily and bundled up in like a ball in an anorak): "I don't think..cold..Is it very, mommy? Well, can I? Maybe yeah okay."

Mother (walking purposefully with now-skipping boy): "And, also I want to apologise for being so cranky the other day...."

By this time, I had outwalked the pair and dodged into the warmth of a nearby store. It struck me then that this Mom could have been speaking to a 5, 15 or 25 year old. She sure got it right by ditching the baby-talk. Second, to hear any parent apologise to a child (and a very small one at that!) appealed to my asian sensibilities. So very refreshing - not to mention unheard off in our confucian world. I think children learn and internalise most of their values and worldviews from the home and their parents. What a good way to teach a child to speak properly, plainly and truthfully.