Friday, August 6, 2010

Tiramisu; Jerudong Park Polo Club

Who goes home, eats the homecooked food that she loves so much yet is incapable of reproducing because she can't cook to save her life if ever she were to participate in an event in which one must cook savoury meals to save one's life (it could happen, okay), attends her sister's wedding vow ceremony and wedding reception with yet more albeit not home-cooked food, and then very cleverly forgets to take pictures of anything?

That would be me.

Though I did get to take a picture of the tiramisu at the wedding reception. You might not see it at first glance (because this dessert is like one of those really trippy optical illusion pictures of coloured landscapes that my third grade teacher Mrs Gibbons used to show her class, wherein one little third-grader at a time would shout out that they saw all manner of elusive objects camouflaged in the landscape, when all I ever saw was.... a picture of a coloured landscape. I was so traumatised by being such a failure at seeing things in these kinds of pictures, so agonised about why, why, WHY I did not see these things that everyone else seemed to see, was there something wrong with me, was I not looking hard enough?!, that I used to join in and lie and say I saw all those things too. When I didn't. I confess, Mrs Gibbons: I was a optically challenged competitive little third-grader), but in fact:
1. Those two letter Ss in the background are actually biscuits trying desperately to be kissing swans. My sister, who picked the menu, confirmed that they are biscuit SWANS, people, SWANS, while I can confirm that they are doing a poor job of being swanlike, because if anything, they look like kissing snakes;
2. That little teacup of what looks like black coffee is actually tiramisu; and
3. That dark imposter of a teaspoon is actually a chocolate, urm, teaspoon.

Okay, so perhaps hidden object #3 is, upon further scrutiny, not so hidden and kind of obvious, but seeing as I have historically had problems with seeing what is always so annoyingly explicit to everyone else (I'm not still bitter about this at all, no no), I was pretty awed by this tricky little tableau.



And after I ate my dessert with my chocolate spoon, I ate my spoon! How many times in your life can you see your sister get married AND type out that sentence? (Rhetorical question as I have two more sisters, both of whom seem matrimonially inclined, and can foresee many more edible utensils in my future, now that I know of their existence.)