Kyoto

I'm rushing to publish this post on Kyoto for 2 good reasons.

It's been 2 months since I returned from Japan. Gulp.

(Oh, you lazy blogger! Hey, I resent that... ) But more importantly,

I'm heading to Hong Kong soon and I want to clear my blog baggage. It's kind of like this feng-shui mentality when I need to declutter and start afresh. Oh gawd, I can't wait to visit Hong Kong. However, it's not so much of "getting into Hong Kong", but more towards "getting out of Singapore". I realise I sound like one of those super-unappreciative-why-can't-the-gov-do-MOREMOREMORE-for-us Singaporeans but I just need a break from life here. It's not as if I'm dying to throw myself into the POO-lluted skies and harbours of Hong Kong. Not so literally at least.

Do you know what's the best part about Hong Kong around this time of the year?

The weather. Oh the weather! 16-24 degrees celcius. Sunny. The weather which allows you to layer up for winer but casual chic enough for autumn. I'm thinking of alldressup, with a dash of Marni and Vera Wang. Think meufeuille, not Michelin man.

Dad: Young lady, do you think I'm made up of money or something?

Relax dad, I'm just getting "inspired". I know I sound like some poor deprived kid living on a tiny island one degree off the equator, starved of the opportunity to dress up for fall/winter. Wait erm, that's me alright.

Ok, back to Kyoto, memories of which feel and smell like three hours old sushi.

The Shinkasen version- Family of 4 took a day trip to Kyoto. Weather was sadistically hot one moment and raining-cats-dogs-and-whatever-they-eat-in-China next. It being a Sunday, most traditional small time shops where closed and the rest of the shops fed the souls of tourists who travel agendas include raiding every souvenir shop to compaare the price of postcards and magnets. Family of 4 returned to Osaka disillusioned.

And if you have the time (and please say you do because I sacrificed study time to write this), carry on reading the extended version-

Blame it on Arthur Golden, the man who immortalized Kyoto (or rather 'Gion') as a culture haven steeped in timeless tradition and Victoria Abbott, who had dished about her delicious sojourn in Kyoto. I guess it was naive on my part to expect a Kyoto that wasn't quite so commercialied or crammed with tourists.

There were parts of it that were quaint and cute like Ponto Cho but for most parts I felt like people were just chainselling yatsuhashi and hijiri.




A couple of things worth noting though:





On our way uphill to Kiyomizudera Temple, we staggered past this fishcake shop. Hot oil guzzling away, freshly scorched fishcakes- how could we say no? Temple will have to wait. Enigmatically softer than tofu (is that possible? Why yes, my dear reader), the fishcakes did not disappoint. We even bought a couple more to celebrate our triumphant climb up to the temple. Onward march!





Downhill, we past a shop selling steamed meat buns. Ain't that something? Well not really. Having grown up on steamed buns ("paos" as we affectionately called them) of various sweet and savoury fillings (char siew, lotus paste, red bean paste, yam paste, chicken chunks with egg etc), what can I say? I have seen them all.

Well, it must be the Kawaii-neh smiling face and straw hat imprint on the buns. Yes, that had to be it. That had to be the reason why we risked our lives to cross a 2-metre road, clear of raging traffic, to buy a couple of steamed buns.



I live life dangerously.



Cream-filled choux pastries for you?



Did I mention how frigging hot it was in Kyoto? Need kakigori NOW... It was probably as warm as Singapore but as a faithful citizen of Air-Con Nation, street gazing was my kryptonite. Hence, we decided to seek relief from midday sun and found the most nondescript place for lunch.



The 20-seater restaurant specializes in Izumo soba, which derives its darker tones from the skin of the buckwheat. The restaurant walls are awashed with wooden plate pieces, possibly scribbled with menu items but we relied on the single-sided English menu that featured 4 items, including plain Izumo soba served hot or cold.



Yang had the soba and wild duck meat in steaming mirin-based broth while the rest of us had tempura and cold soba. You know I never understood the significance of "cold food" (I like it HAUUUTE, remember?) till I met Summer. From then on, I say Bling It On.



Weaving in and out of the tiny alleys, I found a shop that sold kimono acesseries and fell in love with these Ivana Helsinki-ish hankies/ scarves. I had no idea what they were used for and two months later, I still don't know but what the heck, they are pretty and I have one!



Perhaps, the reason why I didn't warm to Kyoto was because I didn't get a chance to wander around like what I did in Osaka and Tokyo. After reading Kyoto Foodie and Lovescool, I feel like I have misunderstood the city and am all ready to head back for another round! Stay tuned.

Sorry Mr Golden, I should have blamed the weather instead.

LKF* About Me: I love OWLS. I heart stationary. 1+1= Couldn't stop oogling over these OWfully adorable stuff from Print and Pattern. Check out these cuter-than-shirley-temple owl stationary from ROCK SCISSOR PAPER.

Which stands for 'Little Know Fact,' not 'Lan Kwai Fong'.

My sister has just announced she loves wholegrain bread.

Join the club, yang.
In auguration of your new-found love, I would be hosting a PB&J+Toast party when you get back.

Tatsuya & Santaro. Part 2

I just realised the words 'motive' and 'motivation' are spelt so similar yet contain such polarised connotations.

Just in case you were going 'huh' over the previous post, Part 2 is meant to supplement Part 1 with some background information cum afterthoughts.

Tuesday’s visit to Tatsuya was in celebration of my sister's birthday (alas we forgot the camera) and I met up with Mia for lunch on Thursday at Santaro.

Tatsuya @ Park Hotel

For my sister who dislikes western food and explicitly stated "no Italian or Cantonese Chinese," the obvious choice was Japanese. Alas my sister's no-expense-spared intention was no match for the ASEAN summit, which was marked by road blocks and armed members of the Gurkha contingent. It's minimal-to-zilch access policy made us rule out Tomo or any of the other Japanese restaurants located around City Hall.

As I was on my best behaviour, I refrained from all explicit OTT modes of fervor over Tatsuya's sashimi but it dawned on me the sashimi effectively replicated the taste and texture I had found but left in Japan.

All together now...

WE ARE THE WORLD.. We are the children

Despite the astronomical prices, Tatsuya is devoid of snootiness. Service from Reenie and Joseph was surprisingly warm to the point of being candid. When Chef Ronnie Chia came over to thank us for our patronage, I cowered in reverence and my mind went blank. I might have said a bunch of 'very goods' and 'thank yous,' hopefully nothing along the lines of 'Will you please sign on my napkin?'

Santaro @ Amara Hotel



Faced with the impeding doom of a presentation and 2 final papers, I jumped at the chance to meet up with Mia for lunch at Santaro. Mia wanted to check out Santaro because it is "MM Lee's favourite Japanese restaurant" ... -pause for effect-



Naturally the quality (at lunch time) wasn't as fine as Tatsuya's but the lunch sets were bang for your buck. I loved the chawanmushi as it reminded me of what I had in Osaka's Kanidoraku Honten . However, I can't quite figure out why my chawanmushi was served chimney-smoking-hot but Mia's was merely lukewarm.

Nonetheless, both restaurants reinstated my faith in Japanese dining here. Meals like this always make me wonder if I should reconsider going down the banking/ finance career path...

Tatsuya & Santaro. Part 1

The stage is set and the crowds go wild as both chefs enter the ring. In one corner, Singaporean chef Ronnie Chia of Tatsuya weighs in with 20 years of experience and recent acclamation “WDA Asian Ethnic Chef of the Year 2007”. His past may be mysteriously undisclosed but former Hong Konger-turned- Singaporean chef Santaro Li of Santaro Japanese Restaurant weighs in with numerous awards from several atahs magazines and his very own Members Appreciation Club.

The mood was thick with anticipation. The first thing that struck me was how crowded both places were on Tuesday night and Thursday lunchtime respectively. As their bands of sous chefs hover around the boxing ring precariously, the two chefs luxuriated in the photographic support of devotees, chief among whom were high-ranking politicians (think the two Lee so-and-so, their missues etc) and Mediacorp artists (“Fanntopher”).

Round 1. Fight.



Using a simmered dish Unagi Benisu, Tatsuya pulled an uncharacteristically subdue stab at Santaro, causing Santaro to play it safe with three appetizers- salad with yuzu sauce, fish jerkies and pickled vegetables, which were simple but appetite-piquing.



Tatsuya then threw a subtle but deadly jab at Santaro, delivering a oozy-juicy saba shioyaki that left the latter’s bony and salty mackerel clueless in its wake.



Tatsuya carried on with the assault, using oversized futomaki which was surprisingly good but outwitted by Santaro's light munchkin maki rolls. Regaining its momentum, Santaro sealed its chawanmushi in an aromatic broth that made Tatsuya's whimper (and I clamouring for more). The contest stumbled on as both restaurants launched into a limp tempura war, characterized by heavy batter.



Undeniably, Tatsuya's trump card was its sashimi. The hotate, amaebi, meikajiki, salmon and otoro (OH-TORO!) were spellbinding excellent. Within each bite, a creamy burst of utter gleeness awaited the harshest critics. Dizzy with delight, we yelled for an encore and the chef obliged, taking care to prepare a slightly different version.



Ultimately, the match ended without a clear winner in sight (how very PC!). Bear in mind that this is probably not the best of comparisons since the extravagance of dinner usually promises a more refined experience.The mountain may not be big enough to keep two tigers, but this town in definitely big enough for both Tatsuya and Santaro.

Week 14 ended on a precariously low note, with my worst ever presentation in 3.5 years at SMU. I guess it sucks because I really liked the topic (advertising) and we spent a lot of time on the project. It was one lesson I really looked forward to every week, despite it being a Friday 8:30am class. A lot of time was spent on the final presentation, though I guess we would have been a lot more efficient without all that mindless waiting for latecomers. I'm not in the habit of mourning after loss and post-presentation evaluation of "what went wrong" or "what could have been done better" because quite frankly no situation ever repeats itself twice.

This term has been extremely taxing, especially the last few weeks. From late nights to wee hours in the morning. Back in school even on weekends. Taxi after-midnight surcharges. Tim Tams, Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream and Cadbury chocolate became my sustenance for getting through those late nights. I feel like one of the Crash Test Dummies on Downsize Me! and I'm definitely suffering from the effects of too much junk. Tell tale signs include the spots on my face, parched tongue, sore gums... Funny how these seem like my battle scars from this term.

Truth is I didn't mind the late nights so long as the end justifies the means. On hindsight, there were numerous neon-red alarm signals that our project was lackluster but I (speaking for myself) chose to ignore initially out of pride and later out of dissonance. At the risk of sounding Carlson-cliche, I guess this Advertising project did shed some light on peoples' working styles and relationships. I don't want to dwell any further because my impatient persona needs an extreme makeover.

In any event, I've got to refocus next week's final two papers too.
Catch up with you guys later.

Pastisserie

You are what you eat.

No way, Jose. Because if that were really the case, I would be all sugar-coated and teeth-achingly sweet. Being with me, you could even become sweet by association. But we all know i'm not exactly sugar and spice, all things nice, no?

Affirmative.





Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?

Walking through the depachikas, I was marveled by the sheer intensity and volume of what was being produced. Hand a Japanese chef some flour, eggs and water and you will surely be ensured of Atkins bugbears. Throw in sugar, fruit or/ and chocolate and watch him/ her create pastries and dessert beyond your wildest imagination. Joseph’s technicolour couture coat meets Chef Maestro.



The patisseries in Japan made for a real Kumbaya moment for those who can't stomach anything made with less than 2 cups of sugar.

I Oliol365 . Il Caladrino dolce . C3 . Meister Juehheim . Kihachi . Shiseido Parlour . Sebastian Oullet . Giotto . Jean Millet . Dolce Fabbriqa

Take note for these are some names you could grow to revere.

The question begs, how do the Japanese girls stay macaroon-sized?



Speaking of macaroons, didcha didcha didcha try Pierre Herme?

I DID I DID I DID!



I'm no fan of buttercream icing sandwiches but my heart skipped a beat when I saw Pierre Herme. Erm the store, not the man himself. I remember standing front of the boutique almost starstruck. Whenever I read articles about Pierre Herme, it always feels like a fashion editorial and not just any ready-to-wear fashion review but a commanding piece on haute couture. This is after all the man who made macaroons as covetable as next season's IT bag. This is one of those few moments when I don't even understand myself. I don't even like macaroons, but I just wanted to stand in Pierre Herme boutique and luxuriate in the presence of the flightier things in life.



I stared at them macarons longingly before settling for a triplet Caramel Fleur de Sel, Chocolat and Rose. I ran out of the store, unwrapped them and gamely sank myself into one, not caring if I had appeared plain obscene to the Japanese.

These macarons were light as fairy wings but alas, mum and yang had to help me out for I really couldn't stomach 3 macarons. We didn't plan for it but all three of us each preferred different flavours. Yang liked the chocolate while I regarded the caramel with affection- it took the third macaron -rose- for mum to finally decide the macaroons were worthy of hype.

Saveur Macaron-manics!





All these reminds of Lisa Loeb’s Number One Single. Am I mentioned this before? Anyway it’s a good show, thanks to killer wit and earnest desperation. You would be surprised by how normal she is. In one episode, Lisa tries to meet new people (read: score date) and she visits the driving range and library. She eventually scores a date (I mean, meets new person) and in preparation goes to Cynthia Rowley to pick out hot outfit, just like any other girl who wants to look her Friday-Night Best for her date. Erm actually maybe not so normal, she approached Cynthia Rowley HER FRIEND who handpicks a dreamy-whimsical outfit for her. Every girl needs a designer best friend.



I came across these miniature figurines at a toy shop in Wheelock Place. Look they even have a mini Isphahan!





Ain't they just the cutest icklest objections-of-no-use? While we are on the page of randomness, I like Snapple and before drinking it, I never fail to go through the little trivia written beneath its cap. Sure, you can go to the Snapple website for a complete list of facts but part of the fun is not knowing what totally-random fact Snapple has installed for you! Today's who-wants-to-be-a-millionaire trivia is Real Fact #70: No word in the English Language rhymes with 'month'.

There you go...

Buono

Despite making our weekly rounds every Saturday and/or Sunday night, I do in fact detest heading to town for dinner. The chaos. The waiting. The parking. The crowds! And to think our population has only reached 75% of what our government wants.

Also, I've been overexposed to my "city campus," by the time weekend rolls by, I'm just dying to veer away from Orchard Road and City Hall. That's why it's good to discover restaurants such as Buono, which thrive like wild mushrooms off the beaten path.

Consider it "second time lucky".

The first time I called to make a reservation, I was told very very politely by a staff member that the restaurant had been booked for a private party and no, we couldn't crash the party (hey I was just testing my luck!).

Second time I called, which was less than an hour from our supposed time of reservation, I was lucky enough to score a table for 3. "The last table" I was told. So it was off to Buono at yes-there's-a-restaurant-there Lichfield Road.

We received a warm reception alright. The minute I entered the restaurant, I was greeted by a blanket of cool but stale air. I don't know why I didn't pick up the lack of AC from reviews I've read. If I were dining with other people, it might not have mattered but Dad's kryptonite was heat and the first thought that came to my mind, "Crap.. Dad's gonna hate this place...".

We asked the waiter about the AC but he mumbled something about the fans. Dad brushed off the unnecessary mollycoddling and settled into the first of many glasses of ice water. Suddenly, much to our relief, the folks at Buono placed a fan right beside us. *Adds a point for service.



Screw the Miele oven, I wanted a wood burning oven at home. To begin, we were served garlic bread literally served fresh from the oven. Sure it wasn't the most imaginative of breads but at least it was pipping-ouch-hot.



We could see the Chef work on his signature Buono pizza, a bed of mozzarella cheese and cream sauce, topped with pork sausages, mushrooms and rocket salad. The grass is definitely greener on this patch. The Buono took us through a most enjoyable ride of creamy but well-matched cream sauce and mozerella, steered by the heady aroma of mushrooms and slightly spicy pork sausages that masked the bitter hint of the arugula carpet



Our appetizer, the Crudo di Scampi was late. It only arrived minutes after we were done with our pizza. This was rather odd for it seemed like orange-cream-sauce-dribbled prawn and pesto-dressed calamari, topped with a heap of arugula, didn't seem all that time consuming to prepare. Despite the lavish cream and pesto dressing, the flavours were surprisingly muted.



The Mixed Skewers was a hearty fare of beef tenderloin, chicken, lamb and sausage, served with a potato-cheese-layered cake and greens. While they were minutes overgrilled, the meats had a well-appreciated char-ry aftertaste.



I never thought much of Italian dessert especially if it is "imported". None of the other sorbets, lava cake (isn't that French?) or traditional desserts (tiramisu) appealed to me so I adopted an uncharacteristically hands-off approach to the dessert. That being said, the double-whammy-twang of limone sorbet sat well with my parents, at least my dad (for mum was not-so-secretly eying the coconut sorbet... Next time mum!).



This is Buono. Straightforward, what you see is what you get. None of that belly-sized Chef's ego or designer furniture (though they did have very questionable leopard-print seat covers). FYI: I've already thought of what to order on my next visit.

HELLO to Shanti, Peihua and Farish! haha...green for global warming.

Crunch Time at Katsukura

Yes yes, you've probably heard by now it is crunch time at SMU.

A "gsrs" (group study room) to most SMU students is what an Hermes bag is to most fashionista- highly covetable and a weapon to instill one's sense of being in a world fraught with scarcity. By now, if you haven't booked a gsr for the next couple of weeks, it would probably be impossible to do so. Fuggedabouttit. As the old-timer 'bookies' and their 'khakis' stake out their gsrs like territorial hawks en guard, the rest of us can only circle the various school buildings mindlessly like vultures in hopes of chancing upon some discarded or abandoned room.

To cope with the "demand exceeds supply" situation, the dean recently announced through email that library hours will be extended 24/5 (24 hours, 5 days a week on top of weekends). Ooo lala, eye bags and dark eye rings are totally this season's must-have accessories (a lethal combination with grey tones of Fall collection). For the next couple of weeks, MSN nicknames will sound suicidal and students will probably see the school security guards and librarians more often than they see their family.

Welcome to Week 12-15.

On top of that, I have to bid for 4-5 modules next term and I'm freakin' broke! I think the administration should come up with this "Will" system where graduating students can name non-graduating students as the beneficiaries of their remaining e-dollars once they graduate. Now wouldn't that be a neat idea?



Atop of Roppongi Hills Tokyo , I experienced "crunch time" of a different kind. We met up with Yang's friend Andy, British-born Chinese who is currently teaching English in Japan and popped into Katsukura because no one esle seemed keen on L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon Restaurant. Sigh.

That being said, Katsukura was definitely fantastic. The modern uptown interior clued us in on the esteem they place on commonplace tonkatsu and before tucking in, we had to go through Katsu Protocol. To begin, each of us was given a small bowl of roasted white sesame seeds, which emitted an unmistakable aroma when grinded; we were then told to mix it with any of the 3 minimally-different sweet sauces found in those ceramic urns.



My parents zoomed in on the most straightforward pork cuts (fillet and tenderloin) while yang opted for tonkatsu and potato croquette set and I chose the ebi and beancurd skin katsu.



Every breadcrumbed-and-deep-fried dish that landed on our table bore hallmarks of excellent katsu: tawny shade of brown, superlative-crispness and juicy insides. What surprised me, however, was my beancurd skin katsu- I was half-expecting something like the flattened, deep fried dim sum style but instead, a mooshball of peas, carrots and mushroom encased within paper-thin batter greeted my pleased palate.



As if to cushion the blow of too much deep fried food, every set meal comes with a free flow of miso soup and fresh crisp shredded cabbage.



Now this is one crunch time I wouldn't mind experiencing over and over... and over again.

Enjoy Japanese tap dancing video, which Darrelle sent me. They are tapping in wooden slippers!

Sashimi House Sakuraya

To date (after more than a month after I reported the problem), I have:
- Had 4 line checks and a modem change.
- To call up the Singtel technical hotline every night to inform them about the disconnection. It has gotten to a point where I don't even remember which seminar rooms my classes are held but I know the 13 digit number for Singtel. Dial 1800 8486 933, press [broadband number], press '3' for technical, press '1' for wireless...
- Spoken to countless customer service staff and 3 tech managers, who make me repeat my month-long agony every time someone new takes over.
- In the last couple of days, received calls from a manager who tells me they are "monitoring the situation but still unable to find out the internet disruption".
-Expressed every desire to cancel the account, but am told it's not possible because they have to monitor the situation and submit a report to the management.

If you are thinking of signing up with Singtel, think twice. And think about me.

To top it off, it's crunch time at SMU and depending on the level of progress for each module- it's either:
1. consolidate report --> edit edit edit
2. attend meetings --> "brainstorm" (aka discuss and trash ideas) --> delegate (my favourite word) work --> arrange for next meeting

Lately, I found myself itching. Not itching for something sinful or decadent. Just itching. I think the new-found rashes on the back of my hands, elbows and ankles are indicators of stress. They aren't full-blown rashes but white flaky bits on red patches. These rashes are a new thing for me because I usually only binge eat during stress. How odd.

For reasons known to some, my tastebuds remain slow to pick up the enjoyment of Japanese food here in Singapore. Having Japanese on weekends is our family tradition and it is beginning to feel a little tiresome even if we were just going through the motion. I did it before, I have always done so and I should continue doing so. A cuisine whose regular dishes holds very little surprises, the real surprise is perhaps why most Japanese restaurants in Singapore fail to live up to expectations.



We had sashimi, Soba and tempura, Saba shioyaki, kajiki teriyaki, chawanmushi , nabeyaki udon, wafu salad and chicken karaage



There was nothing to suggest that the hot food was any more spectacular than say, conveyor belt branches. The dishes were pedestrian and the meal was a stroll down the well-trodden cobblestone path.



Perhaps food has been an easy scapegoat because delving deeper, I find myself yearning for the Japanese reserved pleasantness. Replicating the menu is the easy part, the difficulty lies in managing the "imperceptibles"- the ambiance, service and mood. I'm suddenly reminded of a course I took in Copenhagen on Outsourcing, where the lecturer spoke on how easy it was to transfer codified knowledge but one could never truly pass on intangibles, without altering the pre-existing culture.

I acknowledge the problem lies with me and my nostalgia for the Japanese characteristic service. Till I get over it, abstinence may be the only way to go.