Today

My parents came from Ipoh, Perak. I can't say that my parents were born in that quaint little village in that charming little town. Back in its heyday, Ipoh was almost like an industrial town - famous exports of tin and peanuts ensured a large swarm of immigrants from China kept it going. My maternal grandfather came from Fuzhou (I think). When the British still ruled, Ipoh was the second administrative town after Kuala Lumpur. It is the capital of the State of Perak. But yes, as I am sure in almost any Asian town in those days, my parents grew up climbing trees, eating shaved ice balls and catching all sorts of insects and fish for rearing and fighting. My mother grew up tapping rubber trees after ending her education in Primary 2 - the fact that she now speaks broken English to my Indonesian sister in law is an amazing feat. My father was luckier, having attended one of the better schools in town, which my paternal grandfather slogged as a carpenter to put him and his multiple brothers through.

They sought independence, as much as it was required of them in those days, and left their village - the biggest village in Ipoh at that time with more than ten thousand residents - to be with my father's eldest brother in Singapore. My dad took up a job in an electronics factory and my mother did sewing in a textile / clothing factory. They had a son first, and my brother was born (with much difficulty, as my mother often likes to remind us) in Ipoh, with him holding the record for the heaviest baby for a long time. My sister followed in Singapore, and then me. We grew up with the cane in my father's hand, who strongly believed that without education, we were destined for a life of poverty. I remember assessment books, a lot of it, and according to my siblings, I had it the easiest because my dad mellowed then. Being the youngest (and incredibly cute - I KNOW RIGHT?!) helped.

But I realise that my dad taught us more than that. Perhaps it was by example because I don't remember my parents spending a lot of time with us, but I remember he thought us respect, hard work, persistence, and yes, how to suck thumb. And I think it was because that they had to fend for themselves, and they taught us the need to fend for ourselves. 

I think I might have been different if my parents never left. I could be a happy barefoot (never did it because my dad says I will cut myself and die), tree climbing (never did it because my dad says I will fall and die), shaved ice ball eating (never did it because my dad says it's not clean and have food poisoning and die), river swimming (never did it because my dad says OH MY GOD ARE YOU NUTS YOU WILL DROWN BUT BEFORE THAT YOU WILL FREEZE and die), kampung (never lived in one because well, HDB was efficient) girl (my dad told someone that he was hoping for a boy. Who says that? In front of their own spawn?!). And I can be a happy barefoot, tree climbing, shaved ice ball eating, river swimming kampung girl because my dad is the same guy that told me stories of his barefoot, tree climbing, shaved ice ball eating, river swimming days. He is that same guy that likes expensive watches (we have lost him shopping before, finding his face plastered to the glass display outside a watch shop) but gets ridiculously content with tasty neighbourhood bakery bread. He is that same guy that taught us to be ambitious but content, that found it amusing that I called him in Hong Kong (his first overseas trip with my mum without us ever) when I failed Mathematics in Sec 3 and feared a lashing but did not hesitate to actually lash me when I did not pay attention or try my best. My parents tried their best to prepare us for the future in the way they thought the best, always putting us ahead. 

And I believe this is the reason I work as hard as I can. I am not self-made. No one is. My parents have never reminded me of their sacrifice (besides my mum often reminding my brother of the pain of her labour), and they have always, in fact, asked me to cut myself some slack. But knowing that they have given everything so that I can have anything I wanted as long as I worked hard at it... means I should, because I now have the opportunity to. Do I regret certain choices they made, and then some that I made? Yes, but I've also learnt that life is a series of Sliding Doors - and the life not lived is sometimes the perfect one because who imagines difficulties? - and you make your own choices and live with them.

And you know what? While I often lament that I would love the chance to relive certain portions of my life (I would love a time machine), I thank God for what I have today. And I thank you.

Do you remember the Singapore Pledge?

It says:

We, the citizens of Singapore,
pledge ourselves as one united people,
regardless of race, language or religion,
to build a democratic society
based on justice and equality
so as to achieve happiness, prosperity and
progress for our nation

I really don't give a shit on who you are voting for, as long as you understand why you are voting for them, what they mean to you as a citizen of Singapore, and how they will help us get to this.

Personally, I am torn. I was telling Robin that day that I fully understand what both parties contesting in my estate stand for. They both have policies I agree and disagree with. End of the day, it's which policies that hold importance to me - and I now see that the two different spectrums to which I agree will never reconcile and meet because they probably contridict each other.

And I'm not comfortable making that trade-off.
But this is a good problem to have - to decide.

What is it about Singapore?

What do you like about Singapore?

Relax. This isn't going to be one of those patriotic, flag wearing (which ironically is illegal in Singapore), chest thumping posts; neither is it one of those cynical, flag burning (definitely illegal), MP stabbing posts.

I just want to know what is it about Singapore you like.

For me, it's the smell of Singapore - the aroma of the rich coconut milk in Laksa, the spicy fragrance of sambal, the sanitised whiff of clean floorways and corridors, the elegant hint of expensive perfume and cologne on the crowd in Orchard Road. For me, the smell of Singapore encompasses what Singapore is - a nation of immigrants, all from different lands, all with different aims, all bearing different needs. Yet, all coming together to build this nation which gave me an education, a clean environment to grow up in, and ironically, a sanitised view of the world.

I am most proud of Singapore when I see new Chinese immigrants selling noodles in a coffee shop. In my industry, a lot of chefs are not local. Their choice of location is based on need, convenience and growth. In a way, I see these hawkers no differently. So why is it we embrace these chefs and not these hawkers?

It is well known that the hawker industry is a dying one, with some new kids experimenting with newer products in the same environment. Hawker food as we know would have evolved due to this in the next 20 years or so. You have chicken rice stalls opening restaurants, laksa stalls franchised (goodbye quality - yes I am cynical of these), hokkien mee stalls expanding to sell zi char. But those mom and pop hawker stalls we all know will be gone.

Where hawker food, the fabric of our nation's identity, used to be a great product - lousy stalls simply didn't survive - now has grown so bland and cookie-cut. Let me give you my opinion:

In the 90s, the greatest coffee shop brand was "kopitiam". There was no pretentions - food courts were the modern evil with lots of people regarding it was the death of all good hawker food - myself included. It raised our meal prices by 50 to 70%, which was maybe 50 cents to a whole dollar. But a coffeeshop foodcourt still looked like a coffeeshop - except all the stalls looked the same. Any kid born in the 90s would not really know how stalls used to look like before "generication" took over. Now, every kopitiam used to have the same stalls. They would own the drinks stall, and in the bigger ones, their ice would drop down a tube into the ice bin. There would be Fei Siong fishball noodles. Every kopitiam would differ slightly, but generally is the same.

That means it was similar to McDees.

In the new Millenium, the company that solely is responsible for the cost of bread (to consumers) increasing 100%, Breadtalk, started the Food Republic franchise. Wildly successful, we now have the same kopitiam formula in a more hip and thematic setting. It is now acceptable to pay $7 (this is crazy) for a meagre plate of chicken rice (only the plate is big) and to be honest, the food isn't honestly that great. And every Food Republic (and Opera) has Sergeant Chicken Rice. What, you say "but it's ok because well, it's Orchard and it's Food Republic". It's the same theory as paying $1.40 for a piece of "boutique" bread which honestly was very tasty... Then the neighbourhood bakeries followed. Where bread used to be a cheap and tasty breakfast (I used to buy the chocolate rice cream buns for freaking 40 cents), it now is cheaper for me to buy economic beehoon for breakfast. With luncheon meat and egg, may I add. And they don't even call it food courts anymore!! It's now a much more refined "Food Hall".

Yes yes, I know. Economic growth and inflation.

Yes yes, I know. Wages and all.

But with all these, I miss the old queensway market with its truly rustic charm and decades old recipes.

With all these, which I do appreciate, tell me..

Where can I find that great plate of Mee Rebus?

What I really want to see are these highly paid, highly regarded chefs embrace our Singaporean food. I want them not "remaking" laksa, but understanding and really knowing the culture of our food. The history, the processes, the social and political implications of that plate of local food.

And yes, Chilli Crab is OUR national dish. Not yours, Malaysia. So there. Bleah. 

I Love Food.

I love food.

Who am I kidding? I am obsessed with food. I am crazy about it. I would marry it and fornicate with it if I could! (Now now, get that dirty thought out of your mind. That was a figure of speech!)

I moved from reading food porn such as the aptly named foodpornographer to kitchen porn such as the pioneer woman cooks. I pore over equipment catalogues, go nuts at supermarkets and once in a blue moon, go bankrupt at wet markets. I am amazed at the complexity of food - how it manages to invoke familiar feelings and unexpected excitment; how it can bring tears to someone's eyes (a food writer once told me that he wept over the rabbit dish in Oswaldo); how it can cause distain just as quickly. One sure thing that I've realised is that most great dishes are created after a multitude of failed dishes - something my partner will agree since he is the one having to eat most of them!

I almost never dump food - no matter how bad they are. I believe food is to be respected, and armed with the right skills and technique, almost every "bad" dish can be saved. A dry roast can be carved and served with a simple green salad. Undercooked pasta can be combined into broth to make a hearty soup. A can of tomatoes can save a dish, almost any dish. Lemons, cream (though I say this reluctantly), butter and eggs can uplift and even transform dishes.

That's of course, what we call, in the broadest of terms "Western" food. Now, Asian food is totally another ball game. Raised on the mtv and hollywood culture of sitcoms, dramas and food television, much Asian cooking we experience through entertainment is usually "yankeed". I learnt how to do bibimbap (a koren rice dish) from a American Born Korean hosted on Bobby Fay's show on Food Network. Yet the food we eat everyday in this country is usually Asian. I think we tend to understate great Asian dishes!

My family usually eats Chinese food. (note I said food, not cuisine - a simple word has such a big difference!) my mum has never grown to like Malay or Indian dishes, an amazing fact since she grew up in Malaysia and formed her family in Singapore! The most "Indian" food I grew up eating was Roti Prata and Kumbing Sop (by Indian Muslims, not the Malay style). When I grew into adulthood, I accientally discovered cooking - the first dish I seriously made was pasta with a jar of ready made cream sauce.

So many factors influence what we perceive of food and the culture behind it. I, for one, tend to make a lot of pasta because, well, it's easy. You can throw almost anything into it. I am encouraged by my friends to discover pot roasts, baked chicken, and now my friend makes chinese soup! The day I dare to serve homecooked chinese food to my partner's mum is the day I say my cooking is good... Which might not happen in my lifetime!

Before this grows into a thesis, I just want to say... What have you eaten today, and do you know what it stands for?!