Random Desserts, Sands Expo and Convention Centre

Work Conferences: An Analysis

CONS:
1. Notwithstanding that there are lies, damn lies and then statistics and that I have absolutely no scientific basis for this factoid, I'd say that 80% of the population are terrible at public speaking and giving presentations. I'd also say that 20% of the population love the sound of their own voices. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure that the two segments aren't mutually exclusive, and you have a kind of Venn diagram cross-section of the overlapping segments which would be made up of THE MOST ANNOYING PEOPLE ON EARTH to give a presentation.

So first work conference con: You are BOUND, statistically, to endure at least some presentations by terrible public speakers, as well as terrible public speakers who ramble on at length and with no foreseeable end or point in sight, bypassing time limits, shrugging off schedules, continuing doggedly to just speak on... and on... and on.

I must have aged 5 years during one particular presentation by a CEO who blithely informed the audience that he was going to keep it short, and then went and did the exact opposite.

2. The rooms are always too cold.

3. The coffee is always watery and terrible, not that that stops me from drinking cupful after cupful to ward off soporofic effects of terrible public speakers.

4. I immediately tune out of a presentation after I see more than one exclamation mark or question mark in a row. If you have to "!!!" or "???" you sound more like an overzealous marketer or excitable teenaged girl than accomplished presentation speaker to whom I should be listening. Unfortunately this means I tune out of quite a few presentations.

PROS

1. It breaks the monotony of going to the office.

2. The knowledge gained. Theoretically, anyway. And by theoretically, I mean, as perceived by your bosses who sent you there.

3. The dessert bars at the buffets! Obviously, I saved the most important pro for last.

Crema Catalana; Harper's Restaurant & Lounge, Malacca

I realize this is an inopportune time to write yet another post that combines my love for delicious, beautiful desserts and delicious, beautiful Arsenal, because the latter GAVE UP A GOAL ON SUNDAY NIGHT and in the chaos that ensued, my homeboy Adebayor got sent off, my man Fabregas got injured and I noticed that my boy Nasri is growing out his hair and it is in that awkward is-it-long-is-it-short-either-way-it's-agreed-that-it's-definitely-not-great-looking phase (don't worry, you're still my boy!), and all of the above effectively ruined the closing stages of my weekend. If you think I am exaggerating, think again. I even got sick on Sunday because I was in such a crabby mood about the win that should have been that my frustration boiled over into a fever.

Anyway. My point was this may be an inopportune time to talk about Arsenal, but quite clearly and as evidenced by the previous paragraph, I do not care. I had crema catalana in Malacca and I'm still thinking about it. And no, that's not a non sequitur.

I didn't even know the French Creme Brulee had a hotter Spanish cousin. I was sadly ignorant, but am now enlightened, and would like to enlighten you as well. People, meet Crema Catalana.

It LOOKS just like Creme Brulee, with the burnt sugar top coating, but once you break the barrier, you get hit with a custard 10 times more fatty than that in Creme Brulee. It's thicker and creamier and heavier and milkier and dang it, those Catalans have outdone themselves, because if I had a dollar for every time I had Creme Brulee and thought 'this is delish but I wish that the custard was so creamy that it would make the proverbial cat that got the cream keel over in a milky coma' I'd be kinda rich right now.


I like both though. Just like I like both the French and Spanish football national teams and can almost never choose between the two, though Spain wins out marginally this year (mainly because they do not consistently disappoint me and break my heart like the French do). And this is related to Arsenal because Arsenal is a combination of the Spanish AND French and the entire time I was eating this I was thinking about Arsenal and wishing I could also have a plate of creme brulee so I could complete the Western Continental Europe football love (cause I've got love for you too, Portuguese national team minus Christiano Ronaldo) but I didn't say anything to goosey because I thought he would have been like wtf, you are weird. So I stored it away and wrote about it instead.


If you really want a non-sequitur because you got excited by the almost-non-sequitur above: I am freaking obsessed with Katy Perry's Hot N Cold (even though it hurts my linguistically snobby heart to type the title of that song in all its abbreviated shortform slang). In fact, I am so freaking obsessed with the song that I've been listening to it on repeat for the past two days and STILL have to fight the urge, whenever I hear it, to get up on the bed/office desk/couch/LRT seat/wherever I may be and throw on a wedding veil (ala the music video, obviously) and shimmy my shoulders and ooze attitude and point at mirrors while simultaneously shaking my booty in a joyful 80's stupor. You can take the girl out of the 80's, but you can't take the 80's out of the girl. It is slightly disturbing that as an almost-24-year-old I am fighting the same urges that I succumbed to as a barely-6-year-old when I used to slink around the couches at home pretending to be Madonna on a gondola in the Like a Virgin video. AND we didn't have MTV then, no no. The brilliant idea and irrepressible desire to shake my booty was completely inherent. Viva la pop music!

Dessert Buffet; Ritz-Carlton, Singapore

The following post is why one should not ever give me access to buffets with generous dessert spreads. I do not have a large enough appetite to eat both savoury AND sweet foods, so when given the choice between something savoury and substantial and something sweet and completely unhealthy, I will of course choose the latter.

Thus I literally stuffed myself to bursting point and seriously almost fell into a weird hybrid of a sugar rush-food coma after lunch. This was not good considering I was sitting right next to my boss in the post-lunch meetings and the only reason I was in Singapore was to attend work conferences, and not, as my stomach had managed to make me forget, to eat like a heifer.

White Chocolate Cake with Raspberries

Blueberry & Chocolate Pudding

Chocolate & Pineapple Cake (sounds like an intriguing combination, but turned out to be neither intriguing nor tasty)

Classic Cheesecake (with a crumbly cookie base: MY FAVOURITE KIND OF CHEESECAKE BASE and one that is surprisingly difficult to find)

Raspberry, Strawberry, Blueberry Berry Cake

Espresso Ice Cream
Vanilla Creme Brulee
Raspberry Pudding

Lemon Meringue Pie
Caramelized Pear
Raspberry Sorbet (I made Mr. Ice Cream Scooper pick out all the raspberry fruit chunks to put in my scoops of ice cream. It ended up taking him ten minutes to put the above concoction together. I'm sorry, Mr. Ice Cream Scooper)

Bread & Butter Pudding (absolute FILTH. Seriously. I couldn't eat more than two bites. How the hell does a six star hotel mess up a bread and butter pudding, by definition the most rudimentary of all puddings? For shame, Ritz Carlton, for shame)

Lemon Pudding with Meringue Topping

I have no idea what this is but seeing as it was on the dessert bar and my mission of the day was to clean out the entire dessert selection, I ate it anyway. Is that disturbing? Yes, more than slightly. Is that surprising? No, not at all.

Strawberry Cheesecake, Creme Brulee; Oriel, Bangsar

Pbil and I tried to go out for cupcakes but apparently almost every cupcake place in KL is closed on Mondays (true story; google it if you don't believe me). Whyyy, cupcake places, whyyy? Is this a coincidence or a flagrant oversight on the part of the majority of KL cupcake producers? Because it makes no business sense to shut your store on a day during which the masses will be tired and weary, in desperate need of a sugary pick-me-up with which to gather strength to face the remaining four days of the work week.

Fortunately we found some cake anyway, though I had to resort to that tried and trusted favourite, cheesecake. Also fortunately, pbil let me eat some of his creme brulee (most probably in an effort to gain brownie points with me... get it? Did you see the dessert pun there?!).

Clearly someone reads this blog and is aware that the way to my heart (which is connected to my sister's, obvi, cause I am her favourite and she loves me soooo much) is my tummy. Well played, homie, well played.

Vanilla Creme Brulee; Moussandra's

A horrific photo of an exquisite dessert/a good excuse to eat it again and retake the photo