Humans like communal sharing of food, an almost ritualistic social exercise.
Marinated mini octopus
Sharing a large confection
Mini salmon sashimi and rice bowl
Family time at Ichiban!
For those who enjoy food, there is a space inside, an intimate and personal nook, set apart from the interactive merriment and camaraderie, tucked inside that little moment when you imbibe the morsels and make elemental visceral contact with the fabric, material and compounds. This is my favourite part of food: that bubble in time that transports the foodie beyond mere sustenance into soulful contemplation, even if subconscious, of life itself, that solitary interstice of rich sensory luxury. Continue reading →
Nothing like fresh oysters to kickstart a crazy holiday!
Queen of Snooze…
May I have some, daddy?
Bizcuit and Lucy all stretched out.
A visit to the nearby farm bistro…
Festive seasons are to me like stew. I love food. I love eating. But I am wary of stew. Things get thrown willy nilly into a large pot, stirred, cooked and cooked, and then poured out in a chunky, goopy, mass. The sound it makes when a scoop of the stuff hits the plate or bowl? Quite nauseating, like a soft belching blended and layered with thick, dull, stretched out staccato. I do not much like stew. And I do not much like festivities.
Regardless, it was a goodly Christmas and New Year over here for this Autistic Foodie Bunny, and I am beginning to learn how to actually enjoy these things. Continue reading →
Noshment. Sustenance. Oil in my physical lamp. Goodness for my soul. And thankfulness in the spirit. The family – mum, baby sis, brother-in-law, furry boys, and helper Nula – had lunch at our usual favourite yesterday, but at a new location. It seems as if the neighbourhood malls are more crowded than the main shopping street in the city. I bring my mental clement space with me. It is a struggle, most definitely, but equilibrium is what I seek. Continue reading →
Drain. The physical object. That little channel ushering its contents into the nether regions of our consciousness. The act of it. That actual movement, going, flowing, evacuating, emptying. And being drained. Emptied, while still alive, until there is no more. At which point does it translate into actuality? How long can the human soul endure? Continue reading →
A sizzling hot Sunday afternoon. The family decided to head far South to Pasir Panjang for lunch at The Tea Party. This branch is now the only one that is dog-friendly, a real pity, as we’re running out of dog-friendly places in Singapore to take the fur-kids. Continue reading →
My brother-in-law always orders the most lavish set
My own humble repetitions – Salmon Sashimi rice set
A tiny variation – beef strips from my sister’s udon
Another super set meal!
Beefless Beef udon?
More variations on Agedashi Tofu
I love Japanese cuisine, especially the rice, sushi and sashimi. My beloved brother-in-law now works in research and development at a large Japanese food company, and he takes us all out for a meal at least once a month at one of the many Japanese restaurants owned by the company. “Arigato” is the Japanese expression for “Thank You.” I am so fortunate! Continue reading →
Sometimes, Clement Space can exist inside inclemency.
I recently spent 3 days and 2 nights at a holiday chalet with immediate and extended family. A grand spectacle of non-stop sensory overload. Unceasing noise. Human chatter at booming, roaring, shrieking, penetrating volume. Clattering of mahjong tiles into the wee, wee, wee-est hours. Thick, choking smells from the barbecue, food being cooked all day, cigarettes (smokers were very considerate, they only smoked outside, but my olfactory receptors picked this up too), and burning mosquito coils.
Oh, yes, and food. An over abundance of food. So much that it became overwhelming, even for a Foodie Bunny. Continue reading →
This was lunch. A late lunch. At one of my favourite cafes. The whole work of art came as photographed. Not my design, but that of its creator. In the midst of making contact with this delicious looking and fragrantly enticing installation, as if by yet another cosmic libretto of tragi-comedic farce, came spears and arrows from the deep, dark, unspeakable Abyss. In real time, the Bunny’s mindscape became a multi-dimensional stage – enter the surreal hyper-real oxymoronic characters and what have you. Wagner and Artaud, do your very best yet again! (And no, sadly, I did not manage to finish my lunch.) Continue reading →