Fast Food on the Shinkasen

After arriving at Narita, we took the shinkasen from Tokyo to Osaka, where we would spend two nights. Perhpas the 7 hour flight and 3.5 hour train ride had made me woozie as I kept telling myself, "I'm finally in Japan.. I'm finally in Japan".



A non-believer of pain, I forwent pinch-me routine and bought a bento instead. My first so-called meal in Japan wasn't an elaborate kaiseki dinner or pilgrimmage to Tsujiki Fish market (not yet) but a nondescript salaryman bento bought from Tokyo Station. There was a scene on A Cook's Tour where Anthony Bourdain tucked into a bento box while riding in a bullet train. Thin scraggly white man wordlessly tucking into his bento, scarcely concerned about the scenery or camera crew. That image stuck and it became one of my unexplainable must-dos to do so too.



Bento stores as ubiqutious as Britney Spears's bad moments, though they happen to be a lot more tasteful. Bento kiosks such as these can be found in most major train stations and the variety ranges from paltry to plentiful. On my way to Osaka, I had the unagi bento.



In the train, the stability made you forget how fast it was actually moving. A brief glance out of the window assured me otherwise: it was as if somebody had hit the Fast Forward button on the video recorder and the Japanese countryside whisked by, hardly pausing for breath. Just as well since I'm not into scenery anyway. Pre-packed and cold, it was probably the most uninspiring unagi don I've had but somehow, I find it hard to denounce this faux pas.

Fast food on fast train? Check.

Japan in a Nutshell

I meant to update sooner but the internet at home has been down. Anyway, Japan in a pistachio-nutshell was AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME.

Only after my trip did I understand what it means "to take food seriously". Yes, food may play a significant role in many cultures but not one culture has exhibited a level of fanaticism that rivals the Japanese. Not the Chinese (health warning labels included). Nor the French or Italians (We still love you Nonna!). And contrary to what our STB proclaims, Singapore is nary the foodie's paradise. When I re-visit some of my blog entries, I feel like such a fraud, raving about plebeian dishes because after Japan, I realized much of what we have here is 60% (at best 70%) of what the best has to offer.

To tweak a De Beers advertising slogan, kaiseki delights may change with the season but dedication is forever. The underlining current of restaurants, cafes, depachikas and no signboard shops is an astounding sense of pride to produce something great.

So you ask, where can I get good stuff?

Truth is I can't give you a straight answer without leaving out somewhere here and then. Unless you intentionally veer into a tourist trap, a more than satisfying meal awaits the rumble in your tummy, the itch in your sweet tooth.

Life would never be the same again.

I realized whenever I travel I would always find a snack to shower all my love for. In Belgium, it was liege waffles; the calamari bocadilos in Madrid teased and in Greece, yup no surprise, fatty pork gyros satiated my big fat Greek holiday. In Japan, my heart went out to the humble red bean pancake.



Aw c’mon! What about takopachi? Okonomiyaki? Who are you kidding? Red bean pancakes? Singapore has that too!

Please, Singapore’s lukewarm dough pucks don’t even measure up.



I bought this seemingly ordinary doriyaki from Shin Osaka Station. For the first time in my life, I was handed a WARM doriyaki. See the dollop of red bean? Unlike what we get here, the red-bean-to-pancake ratio was most agreeable and every bite burst with red bean goodness.



Doraemon would have approved.

Review: Floorplay

I did this review for my History of Dance class and it was submitted to Ms Stephanie Burridge.

Jason Gilkison thinks ballroom dancing is hot.
And no, Jason Gilkison is not being treated for mental distress.

After a successful run in 2006, Burn the Floor quicksteps back to Singapore with yet another highly-entertaining production FloorPlay. Armed with his newest baby, artistic director Jason Gilkison embarks on a remarkable journey to introduce ballroom dancing with sass by vamping it up with Salsa, Rumba, Foxtrot, Cha Cha, Waltz and Tango.

I came. I saw. I gaped.

From the opening act to the dazzling finale, the audience was treated to a stunning display of intricate footwork and spectacular expertise. Along the lines of Bennifer and Bradgelina, the name marries the idea of ‘foreplay’ and ‘dance floor’. Throughout the performance, there was evidence of great showmanship as dancers never showed signs of slowing down. The energy was infectious and the steps were executed with such poise and precision. Tease audience and keep them on the edge of their seats? Check.

There was little chance of getting bored as dances alternated between different genres from 1920s Chicago Jazz, to a stirring Tango duet and the macho paso doble. My favourite part was the opening dance "Maghelena". Infused with a Brazilian beat, the dance was deliciously performed by the entire cast, clad in costumes that accented every swish and twist of the body (fringe benefits not included). One could truly feel the synergy of the vocalist, percussionists and dancers meld effortlessly.

Traditionalists may balk at the come-hither barely-there outfits and topless routines (the last time anyone saw such unabashed display of skin was perhaps in a Renaissance Museum) but the audience lapped it up hook, line and sinker.

Dance without music is like having Sunday Roasts without Yorkshire pudding. Vocalists Kieron Kulik and Rebecca Verrier, onstage percussionists Alex Leon and Henry Soriano, ignited the performance with chart-topping hits from evergreen favorites to today's pop culture icons. Sergio Mendes, Carole King, David Sanborn, Tina Turner and Gloria Estefan- they were all in the house. Casting away the one-tune-fits-all mentality, each music piece was chosen to suit the choreography: up tempo jingles for sexy, high-energy performances; melodious tunes for the traditional ballroom scenes. The lighting and the set décor seemed amateur, but this was most likely done to minimize distraction from the dance itself. Good move.

Jason Gilkison did what Micheal Flatey did for tap dance. Both took icons of stodgy fuddy-duddisms and injected much needed exuberance and pizzazz. After the interval, the performance did sag a little but the ensemble manages to hoist it back in the nick of time. If the dynamism of Gilkison is still lost on you by the end of the performance, ask yourself: When was the last time you watched ballroom and the dancers looked like they were genuinely enjoying themselves?

Jason Gilkison crazy? Me thinks not.

Date and time: 1 September 2007 2pm
Venue: Esplanade Theatre
Choreographer: Jason Gilkison
Vocalists: Kieron Kulik and Rebecca Verrier
Onstage percussionists: Alex Leon and Henry Soriano

Can't believe it's over!
I was so used to waking up, wondering where to shop, which district to prowl (shinjuku or ginza?), what to have for breakfast... lunch... and dinner. I return to emails which instruct 3 meetings to attend over the next few days (including one today ON A SATURDAY). I'm almost depressed.

Just Desserts at Marmalde Pantry

After our Mexican dinner at Cha Cha Cha, the three of us headed over to newly-opened Marmalade Pantry at Holland Village.

There was just one thing on our minds: dessert.



The name promises sin on a plate. One bite and you are hooked for good. It is what the devil himself would have endorsed. That being said, I found the Devil Food cake lacklustre. Despite the melted chocolate Darth Vadar guise, I felt it wasn't even THAT chocolatey.



I'm happy to report that the homemade lemon tart with wild berries & raspberry coulis delivered, bare-faced on a brazen sourish tone. Perfect for a follow up to heavy dinner. Yup, no matter how full you are, there's always room for dessert.



After PS Cafe's sticky date toffee pudding rubbed me the so-so-wrong way, I was was never again tempted to order one. Yet people have raved about Marmalade's version (Sandra, I remember your comment!) and I decided it would be self-defeating to condemn the dessert after one freak encounter. I bet you can tell I'm a lot more forgiving towards dessert?



I took a bite.

And almost teared.



For a moment, the sticky date toffee pudding with vanilla bean ice cream became the restaurant's raison d'être. An utterly delectable cushion cake, drizzled with toffee sauce. The potential for extreme adoration is great.

F-logger's Annual Dinner, 2007

Like Ivan, I don't like the term "flogger"- it sounds like some spur of the moment Bennifer/ Brangelina creation. I attended my first floggers dinner last year and had a ball of time meeting kindred spirits ("will work for dinner at El Bulli"). When I read about June's announcement for this year's event, it took me like a grand total of 3.8 seconds to reply, 'Yes, count me in!'

Now, who in the right mind would prepare dinner for a group of floggers? He would have to be
a. extremely naive
b. extremely courageous

I would rate Chef Anderson Ho as the latter and by hosting our Floggers Dinner, he has knowingly subjected the restaurant's name to more than a dozen know-it-alls, who feel the power of pen is only second to that of the cane.


aMUSE bOUCHE!



I was almost famished by the time the dinner rolls made their rounds and my fingetips longed to make contact with the multigrain roll. My heart sang with joy as I tore open the warm crusty roll and slathered butter over . How was it that others can exhibit such remarkable self-restraint when I was on the verge of asking for seconds and thirds?

Must control self. Image, honey.

Our 7 course tasting menu demonstrated the kitchen's dedication to forward-thinking cuisine but personally, I found some of the dishes too avant garde for my liking. Hang on, bumpy road ahead!



Our cold appetiser, Hokkaido Scallop Carpaccio and Barracuda Fish Mousse with Miso Cream, arrived shortly thereafter. Although the scallop carpaccio was plain fishy business, I rationed every bit of the barracuda fish mousse, a miniature puck brimming with flavour.



The soup, Jasmine Tea Perfumed Duck Consomme with Foie Gras Tortellini, sounded ethereal in print but the eventual result reminded me of a relationship gone awry. The jasmine and duck each possessed strong characters and clashed in union. Proving that good things do arrive in small packages, the foie gras tortellini was swoonworthy. Sigh, just imagine Link Larkin's wink.



Moving along, our hot appetiser, Escargot with Herb-garlic Crust on Button Mushroom Gratinee parsley oil and arugula salad, kept up the momentum going. Mini teeny-weeny deforested gripe: one puny arugula leaf does not constitute a "salad".



Undeniably, the Rigatoni Pasta Tossed in Crustacean Oil, Tiger Prawn, Shaved Bottarga and Parmesan cheese received rave reviews for its well-balanced performance. I'm sure given the chance, many would have requested for an encore.



Unfortunately, our fish dish, Char-Grilled King George Whiting Fillet with Toasted Mustard Seeds and Saffron-Tomato Sauce sank as the weak saffron-tomato sauce barely lifted the bland fillet.

My tastebuds received an impromptu wakeup call from the tangy Blood Orange Sorbet- never underestimate the appeal of frozen fruit puree.



Our main course, Slow-Cooked Oxtail in Feuile de Brik Parcel with Truffle butter and Jus Gras, provided a gateway to heaven.



Dessert danced to a merry tune, courtesy of Passion Fruit Symphony, which consisted of a souffle, crème brulee and macaron-sandwich. The souffle was so light, it could have moonlit as foam dessert. The creme brulee was the star of the trio: resembling a a semi-frozen pond in winter, I cracked through the thin layer of crunch only to find a rich luscious refinement hiding beneath.



Meeting the Chef in person made this experience harder to review. While one applauds his -gulp- courage, the evening's rocky ride serve as a reminder that Less Could Be More.




Singapore is also ridiculously 'small', for lack of a better word. Last year, I realised Colin was a friend of a friend (hi zhu!) and this year, turns out Sook's dad and my dad play golf together just about every other weekend and Lina from Yum.sg is an ex-St Nicks girl, ex-primary school classmate to my elder sister. It was like Friendster Live at Le Papilion (yea yea Facebook is the "new Friendster" and I'm a dinosaur).

I might not have won anything from the lucky draw -again- but I had a terrific terrific time. A few of us caught Ratatouille after dinner. French food movie after floggers dinner? How cliche! At least it wasn't along the lines of 'No Reservations'- chick movie about food and LO-VE -shudder-



There were plans for a potluck affair for next year's event and because it would be travesty to bring something ready-made, I'm giving myself a year to brush up on my cooking skills- hope the rest of you have insurance.

Photos from Ivan!

Garuda Padang Cuisine

My heart sank when I saw the uncharacteristic interior decor. As far as first impressions go, I had a hard time accepting Garuda Padang Cuisine. Garuda certainly didn't look the part of a nasi padang eatery- the stark white interior channeled a distinct wave of hipness, lovemark of a Tung Lok restaurant. Where were the bamboo and teak furniture? Also missing were batik drapings, twig place mats and wooden tableware.

Ethnic decor? Me thinks not.

The drill is 'just point here' simple, as in just point to what you want and the food will be brought to your table. The dazzling array of spice somewhat mitigated the absence of bamboo and batik but I was hesitant.

And wrong.



Standouts include ayam goreng bumbu, fried chicken tossed with fried shredded galangal. I have had one too many ayam gorengs bearing a texture that only a sandpaper can identify with. However, Garuda's ayam goreng teased, "You want juicy? You get juicy!"



A dish that threatened to outshine the fried chicken was the rendang sapi (beef rendang). Convention calls for sharp bang-on flavours but Garuda produced a version rich in mellow flavours that permeated the tender chunks.





Moving up the spice barometer, we kick things up a notch with sambal udang petai (prawn with sambal petai), sambal terong (sambal eggplant) and sambal cumi cumi (squid with sambal petai). If you grew up on chili, this would just be a regular stroll in the park, otherwise the sambal-swathed dishes could potentially induce a rhythimic chorus of "hot.. hot ... hot..."





I'm one of those who sees the beauty in a simple dish of fried egg with black sauce and plain white rice. Mind you I'm rather particular too. I'm not a fan of sunny-side ups, instead I like it when the yolk is pricked in the frying pan so it gets cooked too. And when it comes to fried eggs (or any fried stuff for that matter), the Malays (within the context of Singapore) win hands-palms-elbows-down. It goes without saying the allure of omelette was self-explainatory.



Naturally it would be unrealistic for all the dishes to be box office hits. I'm usually ok with offals but the acid-yellow curry tendon tasted as hostile as it looked. The goreng ikan lele (deep fried cat fish with green chili) bore a muddish flavour, which even the green chili could not mask.




Because you are worth it.

By the end of dinner, nobody could accuse me of not having a belly full of fire. Though Garuda offers a rather satisfying meal, it lacks the rustic feel of a nasi padang experience- gimme my batik.

Dino Cake House & Cafe

Singapore's pastry scene has definitely come a long way. With more Singaporeans muttering "let me eat cake", the bakery/ cafe scene has mushroomed into a vibrant hoola as hot as the oven itself. Everyone wants in on a piece of action, cakes get a multi-tier revamp and choices proliferate.

Why have chocolate cake when you can have rich Valrhona Chocolate Fondant, Chocolate Mousse Ganuche, Le Royale, Café Noir or Gateaux Chocolat?


Pictured: Sugar Roll, Tiramisu, Walnut Crepe, Durian Well, Sweetie Heart

Compared to the fancy offerings out there, Dino's cakes look almost poletarian, very 1990s. I have no idea why this cake house bears namesake of Fred Flintstone's pet. My first encouters with baked goods were cake-moulded around these "old school pastries". These unpretentious-looking cakes may be the Ugly Bettys of the fashionable pastry world but like Betty Suarez, they cajole a sense of familiar comfort, that warm fuzzy feel-good feeling.

Dino Cake House & Cafe - Your One Stop Family Restaurant & Cafe