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I haven't been able to update because it's Ramadan, I'm fasting, hungry all the time, and my stomach growls ferociously at the sight or smell of any sort of food. Which means that I am not even able to look at this blog for fear of inciting the growls (that my coworkers so graciously pretend they do not hear). I think I've come up with a solution though... if I update in the morning when I'm not as hungry then my stomach might not make as much noise... wait, never mind, it just growled. I kid you not. My stomach likes proving me wrong.
As I was saying... it is Ramadan, in which the epic, annual, monthly battle between willpowers and stomachs the world over takes place. I do NOT like losing. If this is all a power struggle to determine whether food controls me or I control food, then dammit (I know I know, don't curse while you're fasting, but it doesn't count as cursing if it's typed), I will prevail and fast and be happy about it. For this one month. And during the rest of the year I will quite happily let food control me.
What I ate before Ramadan (not the last supper, but the last lunch):
Chipotle shrimp! I am just a sucker for shrimp and cheesy things. And garlic bread. And nachos (on the rice). The fact that chipotle was actually an ingredient in the meal as well was moot, because I liked everything else anyway.
For no good reason other than the fact that I am starving and wanted to look at photos of delicious food while I'm sitting here waiting in the office for my dinner to be delivered (let us not focus on the fact that I am having dinner in the office on a Friday night; it is most definitely NOT by choice, I am an unfortunate victim of the central bank's disregard for the notion of TGIF) .. I present a photo of delicious food.
So what if it's only two sticks of succulent tender meat on equally tender rice and couldn't possibly be more boring if it tried? Sometimes (and I'm looking at you when I say this, Coffee Bean, Theobroma and Mandarin Oriental), you do NOT have to use fancy schmancy monikers or dump a load of spices, fruits, cake varieties or chocolate on a plate for your food to be a-mazing. Sometimes all it takes is rice and meat and an empty stomach on a Friday evening for me to drool shamelessly at my desk. Also it helps that I am starving. STARVING, I TELL YOU!!!!
I need to ravage the snack cupboard now before my stomach attempts to eat itself.
I know, I know, I've already posted pictures of Cantonese Hor Fun on this blog but I felt the need to give due credit to the meal that singlehandedly rejuvenated my formerly-MIA appetite! That reignited my flames of hunger! That resurrected, ala Jesus, my will to eat! Oh fat noodles drowning in egg sauce while hanging out with chicken pieces and vegetables, you brought me back to life!
AND I didn't even feel sick after scarfing the entire plate of noodles. Nor did I have to run to the bathroom straight after eating, to do the number that comes after 1, like the person with whom I was eating (don't worry goosey I won't tell anyone it was you). Now THAT is a sign of a good meal. Or a hardy large intestine, I'm not sure which. The point is, now that I have hit bottom, lost my appetite, and regressed to talking about my intestinal fortitude, there is nowhere to go but up (up being more dessert eating). And all thanks to you my little hor fun. Also to you, banana fritters with vanilla ice cream.
My appetite has disappeared. I have no idea where it went or when it will return, but hopefully it will be soon or I will be in danger of wasting away. This is extremely bizarre. I am also aware that it is logically impossible for one to subsist on coffee and water and continue with one's life when one has not eaten for a few days but I have long since given up trying to decipher the workings of my all too complicated self. The most likely conclusion is that my heart really is in my stomach and if that is the correct conclusion, you better hope to God that you didn't break it because if I have forever lost the joy that comes with eating cake then I really will step down from my state of infinite magnanimousness and make you pay for what you've done to me.
Anyway! In memory of better, yummier, less dark and gloomy times... banoffee pies! Right now I love whipped cream more than men.
Damn you, Red Box karaoke and your buffet lunch special! I was coerced into attending because I: a) did not want to be a spoilsport partypooper, and b) did not really want to admit to my colleagues that I can't sing. Also reason c) (buffet for lunch! buffet for lunch!) factored into my decision making.
Sadly, neither the savoury courses nor the desserts were particularly remarkable (I don't even remember what I took a picture of but if I were to hazard a guess I'd say... coffee something, strawberry something, chocolate something, and mango something) but at least I had something to stuff into my mouth whenever the microphone was passed to me.
Even more sadly, I was eventually forced to sing. To Mariah Carey and Leona Lewis and Beyonce and Celine Dion songs. Yes, cruel coworkers, its not like those singers have ridiculously flexible voices and can hit ridiculous notes that I of the bullfrog singing voice cannot reach or anything. Luckily, most people I work with sound like bullfrogs (okay so I am mainly referring to the men, which just makes the fact that I sing like a bullfrog all the more stranger because I apparently have a high speaking voice... the point is I was not alone in my dissonant state) so the room sounded like a cacophonous tone deaf choir for about two hours last Thursday. A tone deaf choir with an affinity for the Carpenters and long deceased Chinese singers (my colleagues are old... and mostly Chinese) and the Spice Girls (I may have been the sole 80's baby in the room but I was the also the one holding the remote control).
A vocabulary lesson for the edification of Theobroma Chocolate Lounge
(If I sound vitriolic and thus pedantic and patronizing, I apologize. It's because I AM.)
What Theobroma is guilty of committing:
(the fallacy of) misnomer \mis-NO-muhr\, noun
Any misnaming of a person or thing; also, a wrong or inapplicable name or designation.
Words that Theobroma is evidently ignorant/sadly mistaken about, which is somewhat disturbing seeing as it is not only supposed to be a highly specialized dessert place, but is also an restaurant chain originating from an English-speaking country:
souffle (dessert) \SOO-fley, soo-FLEY\, noun
A light, airy baked dish made fluffy with beaten egg whites combined with egg yolks and other ingredients, typically lemon or chocolate. Will "fall" after 20-30 minutes so should be served and eaten quickly.
Derived from the French verb souffle which means "to blow up" or puff up--which is what happens to this combination of custard and egg whites.
profiterole \pro-fit-er-OLE\, noun
A small hollow choux pastry that is typically filled with cream and covered with chocolate.
Desserts that Theobroma misnamed:
i) Chocolate Souffle with strawberries
ii) English Cream Puffs with chocolate and strawberries
What The Desserts Really Were, To Anyone With Half a Brain Or Access to Google, Which Clearly Excludes the Theobroma Management:
i) A rock hard, carved slab of chocolate, which is fine if you really feel like satisfying your craving for a chocolate brick but NOT FINE when you order a souffle! Come on, Theobroma! What is this? You can't tag fancy French names onto desserts that are pretty much the complete antithesis of what you're describing just because they sound pretentious and chocolate lounge-y! What are you, the Restaurant of Opposites and Irony?!
ii) Profiteroles. This one was just redundant. Profiteroles = tiny cream puffs with melted chocolate drizzled over them. Therefore in the interests of efficiency, economy and accuracy in general, I'm proposing a novel idea: call a spade a spade and english cream puffs with melted chocolate on them profiteroles. Revolutionary and ingenious, I know. Please try not to fall off your chair in shock.
I was too huffy to enjoy the chocolate "souffle" but in spite of that I LOVED the "cream puffs with chocolate". Even though they were tiny and you only get four and it was sort of like eating a mistaken identity. I really, really didn't want to share, but goosey kept repeating that he'd only help me eat dessert if I insisted (obviously, in hopes that I would insist). Luckily I am a generous and kind person and insisted, albeit reluctantly (also he once gave me a lot of shit after I said I wasn't going to share my Cheezels and then couldn't finish them and had to ask him to help finish them; I wasn't about to risk a repeat of that). Also X Files sucks balls, please don't watch it.
The godfather grand duke monster of cheesecakes: not one, not two, but THREE different types of cheesecake squished into one slice! Naturally, the moment I laid eyes upon it I knew I had to have it. It's my exotic mishmash Everest! My dessert Godzilla! My gentle creamy giant! As a huge believer (pun intended) in the adage that size matters (wait... except when it comes to my size or lack thereof... that's different) and more is not always less, this cake is IT. THE cake.
Unfortunately, as is the case with many things in life, the idea works better in theory than practice. In practice, it turns out, combining a classic cheesecake with a mocha cheesecake with an oreo cheesecake produces a dessert that appears to be suffering from a kind of identity crisis and oreo-measles. Evidently three kinds of cake cannot coexist in one slice. I thought it was interesting, at first, to be able to get three flavours in one bite, and then I tasted the distinct flavour of ginger. Seriously. Ginger. In a Cheesecake. I can only assume this was some chemical reaction gone awry in regards to the combination of mocha and oreos, but it was totally weird. 10 marks for creativity, 2 for execution; more is not always better.
Lost 1 kg in Singapore as my stomach seems to be so contrarian that it just defies the laws of gastrophysics, prompting my mother to comment somewhat ominously that I should enjoy the metabolism while I can. This sounds like a threat. Since my standard procedure in dealing with threats is to yell out 'bring it on, mofos' while wielding a metaphorical M-16, I will take this maternal comment as license to consume more fatty foods.
Curry Chicken Pie!
Caramel Eclair (I LOVE LOVE LOVE eclairs. LOVE. I would MARRY an eclair if I could. Which if you think about it is very fitting because an eclair is pretty explicit phallic symbol and like men, good eclairs are hard to find. They look fine when you're looking at them through the display window, but then you find out you were cheated on the cream or the pastry is just too hard and then you're like I divorce you! And by divorce I mean go to the bathroom and get rid of the... you know what I mean.)
Macaroons! Strawberry, Chocolate, Pistachio, Rose Chocolate (yeah... I don't know what that means either, but it tasted good?), Hazelnut, Vanilla
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.
