Food Tastes Good

I recently had the opportunity to enjoy at meal at one of the finest restaurants in the world. I was given the following menu:

Pure

Salt

Artisan

South

Texture

Unique

Memory

Terroir

Each menu item included a brief comment on the chef’s philosophy going into the dish. When the dishes came out, our waiter told us what the actual food was. Pure, for example, was scallop and cauliflower. The restaurant looked at food in an entirely different light, different from even foodies. But yet, it really didn’t, it had just been couched in more… intellectual? academic? philosophical? terms. The chef devoted significantly more time to the language of food than most people do (a man after my own heart).

So food… We need it the same way a car needs fuel. You’ve undoubtedly heard the saying that the world is 24 hours and a food shortage from anarchy. The counter to that is humanity’s first step towards towards civilization was the cultivation of food. We moved from being hunter-gatherers, wild, to being agrarian, civilized.

The food industry is one of the largest in the world. Annually it accounts for roughly 3.2 trillion dollars in revenue. The United States consumes roughly 1 trillion or 1/3 of the total food sold, nearly 10% of GDP. That’s a lot of money to be spent on something so seemingly simple.

And it makes sense, aside from water, what could be more important than food? In Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, food comes in at the most basic level. Water, air, sleep, and, interestingly enough, sex also fill that level (at least according to Wikipedia). Air is, well, air – you can’t really do much to improve it, though it can be contaminated. As for water, last I checked, you can spend a few hundred dollars on a bottle of champagne, essentially fizzy water. And sex… just read my last post.

As our culture has continually developed, becoming more intricate and varied, food has naturally grown up along with it. As humanity gradually produced more and more excess, we’ve devoted more and more time, more and more energy, more and more thought, to food!

Today in cultures of excess (read: developed or semi-developed world) you can spend an easy three or four hundred dollars on a meal, including alcohol, if you want. I can assure you, it will be delicious. I ask, however, if it is the best meal you’ve ever had? In fact, what was the best meal you ever had?

Taking a note from of “Ratatouille,” (if you haven’t seen it, go watch it, NOW) I suspect that it may be something of little note. My most satisfying meal, one that I haven’t had in ages, is probably caesar salad with roast chicken. It all goes back to my childhood and the memories I associate with it. It’s not the best meal I’ve had; I do distinguish, but the most satisfying. And I could eat it right now, though I’m full, and still be quite pleased with it.

Food comes with significant emotional impact. Your company can ruin the best meal in the world; they can heighten the worst to glory. And then on the other hand, we often use food to cheer our own gloomy mood. It’s a strange relationship. I do wonder just how much time and energy the world truly devotes to food; I can assure you it’s far more than the 3.2 trillion I quoted earlier.

Speaking as someone hopelessly obsessed and devoted to food, I know that a significant amount, if not majority, of my time is spent on food. It may be your greatest time consumer as well.

Pulau Penang, Malaysia

After my delightful train-ride over into Malaysia I finally arrived at the island of Pulau Penang, and the city of Georgetown. Described as being similar to both Singapore and Hong Kong, it was one of Colonial Europe’s first staging points into SE Asia and Indochina.

Georgetown, however, is much smaller than either Singapore or Hong Kong. A few hours walk will take you through most of the city. It’s quieter, less ostentatious, and home to many and more mosques. Roughly half of Malaysia’s people are Muslim. Other ethnic groups include Indian, Chinese, and indigenous tribes.

After getting off the train in Butterworth, I hopped on a fairy over to the island, found myself a hostel, and relaxed; it had been a tumultuous ride and I was exhausted. That night I wandered vaguely up and down the streets before going to bed early.

The following day I took a much better walking survey of the city. My hostel, in the back packers district, was also part of China Town. As soon as I left, I realized that the population consisted of a wide variety of different cultures. Indians were in strong force, but the ethnic Malaysians seemed strangely absent. Along my walk I visited the post office, only to discover it was closed; strange, I thought, giving it was Wednesday.

Later that afternoon I came across the Kongsi House. This historic house was the former home of the Kongsi clan, a group of ethnic Chinese that settled in Georgetown during the 1600s. Their former house is simply magnificent. The clan still operates today and honors former ancestors and inducts newer ancestors into the shrines within the house.

When your ears are suddenly assaulted with a high chant blaring loudly over speakers most people would be, at the very least, surprised, if not concerned. In a Muslim country it is simply the call to prayer emanating for the nearest Mosque. And, it being Ramadan, it was not unexpected. In fact, the night before I had gone to sleep with the sounds of prayer in my ears.

I chanced to walk past a few different mosques in Georgetown. I am a huge fan of religious architecture across all credos. Yet, I find Christian and Islamic religious structures to be particularly striking. With the exception of Angkor Wat, most Buddhist and Hindu architecture strikes me as gaudy – pretentious. Something about the simple austerity of a church or mosque speaks to me far more (I realize I’m generalizing – many churches are gaudy obnoxious things themselves, and I’m sure some mosques are just as bad).

As it would turn out, that day was a public holiday. My confusion over the post offices closure and lack of Malaysians was explained. I still don’t really understand, but it was the history of the Koran day, a pseudo religious holiday?

The next day I found myself venturing over to Batu Ferringhi, the beach area. I took the local bus over and found myself a guesthouse, where I’m currently staying. The beach isn’t the cleanest or the most beautiful, but it’ll do. I’m just happy to go float in some salt water; I didn’t even mind when a dead fish decided to join my little party.

That night I ventured over to the night market, wholly unremarkable, and ate at the local hawker center. A hawker center is basically a food court with stalls and a common sitting area. The food tends to be delicious. I had been dying to try Roti since I started reading about it months ago when I found out I was going to Singapore. I finally had my chance.

Roti is basically fried dough; usually it’s served with some sort of curry or dipping sauce. I had roti with chicken curry. It lived up to all my expectations and was pleasantly spicy.

I’m spending the rest of today at the beach, relaxing. Tomorrow I venture to the Cameron Highlands in central Malaysia. Supposedly it doesn’t venture much over 84 F and is elevated enough that the humidity isn’t too bad. We’ll see…

Battambong and Phnom Penh, Cambodia

It occurs to me that I have been extremely ungenerous to the children in Cambodia. As such, I would like to modify my most recent posting. Having now visited two other cities in Cambodia, it appears that the only place plagued by young miscreants is Siem Reap. The children in both Phnom Penh and Battambong have been nothing but delightful. And to the credit of Siem Reap, not all my experiences with children were bad.

After leaving one of the temples, a young girl attempted to sell me something. I politely refused; she asked me where I was from. When I responded, “the United States,” she began to rattle off a long list of facts: Obama is president, Joe Biden is VP, Washington D.C. is the capitol, George Washington was the first president, etc etc. We spoke briefly while I walked to my bike, and then the unexpected happened. She gave me, I repeat, gave me, a bracelet for my girlfriend or, barring that, sister. And more importantly, expected nothing else. She enjoyed our conversation. It is a poor man who judges all by the actions of few.

Have you ever gotten a flat while riding a tuk-tuk? En route to Chueong Ek, this happened to me. A sudden pop and the sound of shattering glass turned out to be, not a gunshot as I assumed, but the auditory announcement of a flat tire. We immediately got out of the tuk-tuk and walked it forward to a “garage”, a garage in that it had a hanging picture of a motorbike.

Using two bricks as a jack, we lifted the tuk tuk up and proceeded to change its tire on the side of the road. Unfortunately, the nail that had popped our tire was still embedded in the tire itself. The repairman cut a piece of rubber from a bike tire, fitted it into the tire of the tuk-tuk, and all was well. In short order we were on our way again.

Those of you living (or who lived) in either Greenwood Village or Williamsburg probably have memories of exercise equipment (I use that term lightly) along paths and trails. Some government initiative thought that a push up bar along a running path would inevitably lead to a healthier society, one that does push-ups on their runs. It upsets me greatly to announce that, within the United States, this has been a failure.

A similar campaign in Cambodia has heralded great success. Along the waterfront in Phnom Penh the government has installed various different pieces of workout equipment. Some are reminiscent of pedal bikes, others ellipticals, and others unlike anything I’ve seen before. Walking along the waterfront at sunset gives evidence to their great use, every machine. And free(?) aerobics classes are also in evidence. Someone setup speakers and decided to lead an aerobics class, multiple someones in fact. Not only that, but they each had some 20 or 30 participants.

For those of you unaware, Cambodia was once a French Colonial nation. The city of Battambong is proof of that. Spattered with French Colonial architecture, this sleepy town lies in the North West of Cambodia. As many of you may know, I’m fond of sleepy little towns; Battambong is no exception.

My stay here is brief, but I would readily stay longer should chance arrive (and a few degrees were knocked off the thermometer). The hustle of Phnom Penh, the excess of tourists in Siem Reap, Battambong lacks. Instead, people go about their daily business largely ignorant of the few tourists that come here. The only unique attraction is the bamboo train.

Today I’ve visited both the bamboo train and the “killing cave”, another of the Khmer Rouge’s violent spaces. The bamboo train utilizes an old French railroad track to move people and product between rural villages. A six horse power engine hurtles a bamboo stage along the track. These stages can be easily taken apart and removed from the track should a string of other stages be encountered going the opposite direction; a novelty, undoubtedly, but entertaining none the less.

After a good hike (supposedly either 1000m or 1000’, it wasn’t clear) I was lead to the killing cave, the site of another death camp hailing the Khmer Rouge. Many and more skulls were displayed in a memorial stupa. Again, the tragedy of the Khmer Rouge has been reinforced through vigilance and memorial.

And now, I admit ashamedly, to having forgotten one of the cardinal rules of backpacking: street food. In any and all cases one should attempt to eat the local street food. Simply put it is cheaper and better than anything you could get in a restaurant. I have been reminded of this today.

For the past week and change I have been eating exclusively at restaurants. For a whapping 3500r (roughly $1.88) I was reintroduced to street food. Searching for a cheap lunch I found a street vendor selling bread and a variety of fried meat(?) products. Served abed mint and cucumber the fried sticks of meat were accompanied by bread and a hot sweet chili, including red beans. It is one of the best meals I’ve had in Cambodia. I won’t soon forget to frequent often the gap-toothed vendor selling undistinguishable food on the corner of the street. I'm having dinner at the same place.

Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Everyone knows I love cooking, rather I love food and cooking is an aspect of food. I am now certified (I even have a certificate) to cook Khmer food. It was a three-hour course, with three courses. I learned how to make banana flower salad, fish amok, and sticky rice.

I was unfamiliar with banana flowers, which are similar to giant artichokes; the petals die and eventually give way to bananas. Replace the lettuce with thinly sliced petals soaked in limewater. Add a handful of fresh herbs, sweet chili, and carrot.

The dressing, it turns out, is the same as the dipping sauce used for spring roles. Mash garlic, chili peppers, and shallots, add to boiling water. A splash of fish sauce, a spoonful of sugar, and voila: the sauce is done. Toss all the other ingredients and pour the dressing over. I think my version might be chilled with a bit more hot peppers.

Amok, it turns out, is basically curry. Mash turmeric, ginger, chili, garlic, and shallots. Add it all to boiling coconut milk; add sugar, condensed milk, and water. Add whatever else you want, let it cook down a bit and you’re finished. Serve with white rice.

We managed to both burn, and undercook our sticky rice at the same time. Cook the rice first (note, sticky rice not regular jasmine); add coconut milk, condensed milk, sugar, and powdered vanilla (I’ve never seen this before). Cook everything down until the liquids boil off and allow it to cool. It comes out as a really nice desert, very sweet.

My other activities in Siem Reap include a massage by the blind, a walkabout the city, and, of course, a visit to the markets.

I love massages, anyone who says they don’t has either never had a good one, or is lying. Massages in Asia are cheap, very very cheap. And even better, they can potentially help a good cause. I received my massage from a blind person. I don’t know how he was blinded, but I do know that my five dollars help him support himself and the rest of the blind community in Siem Reap. For five dollars I received a full hour body massage. After lugging around two backpacks and a camera bag, a massage feels great.

Massages by the blind seem to have infiltrated a great deal of the worlds backpacking destinations. I’ve had one in Nicaragua as well. I don’t know if this is an international organization, or if they’ve sprung up independently. As an added bonus, they come without the risk of a happy ending.

And now, a special note on the children of Cambodia. Any visit to a tourist attraction (at least in underdeveloped countries) comes with a plethora of people trying to sell you everything, including the kitchen sink. In most places the would be entrepreneurs range in age from about five to fifty. The children in Cambodia are particularly aggressive. Most people you can either wave off or ignore, occasionally it takes two statements of disinterest. The children will pester you with “why no”, “feed me”, “give me money”, and the like. They’ll even follow you to your bike, tuk tuk, or taxi – begging the whole way.

As annoying as this is, it gets worse. As soon as the sun sets in Siem Reap, the children turn from aggressive touters to muggers and harassers. In my own personal experience, one young child repeatedly reached under my shorts and attempted to hit my privates. After doing this several times, I finally trapped his hand between my legs. I hoped that would stop him. When I let him go, instead of learning the error of his ways he began violently kicking and punching me. Fortunately, he was too young to cause any sort of problem and I just ignored him, but this could have been a serious problem.

Others have not been so lucky. In one case, a young woman was attacked by so many children she couldn’t hold them back. After they stole all the money out of her pockets they disappeared into the night. Another young woman had a child (holding a baby) continually grasp at her pants and pockets. She managed to escape without losing any money.

The markets, I must admit, have been unremarkable in Cambodia. They sell the usual assortment of clothing, carved statues, shot glasses, key chains, and the like. I’ve enjoyed them, but have yet to find anything of particular note.

I took the night bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. It could have been worse; buses in Asia are a crapshoot at best. The seat didn’t quite recline, but at least it was decently cool, dark, and quiet… until about 4:00 in the morning. For some inexplicable reason our driver decided to blare music throughout the entire bus. Not traditional Cambodian music, not western music, but a strange hybrid of the two. The worst elements of western pop, an occasional electric guitar, and what I can only describe as Khmer chanting filled my ears for the rest of the trip. I didn’t get much sleep.

The two main attractions of Phnom Penh, for me, are the killing fields and Toul Sleng museum. They’ll be discussed in a separate write up.

Singapore, Singapore

I’ve arrived!

After two very long flights from LAX I landed at Changi Airport a little before noon on the 21st. A few minutes later I was through customs and on my way to the hotel where my Uncle Ken is staying for business. He has graciously offered to put me up before I begin travelling around SE Asia.

I dropped my stuff off at the hotel and took a quick walk around the city looking for something to eat. I had hoped to find one of the infamous hawker centers without difficulty, but this was not to be. Instead, I ate at a little Indian restaurant. Good, but ultimately unremarkable. The near equator sun beat down on me, and my exhausted body suggested I return to the hotel to recover and adjust to the jetlag.

A few hours later I woke to my Uncle suggesting drinks down in the lobby before dinner. I met a plethora of my uncle’s coworkers and students before heading out to dinner in Clarke Quay. Clarke Quay is on the river. I would describe it as a dinner/drinking and clubbing area. An outdoors center that’s covered in see through plastic mushrooms. See the pictures to get a better idea. After eating dinner at a Thai restaurant, we returned to the hotel where I passed out almost instantly.

The next morning I acquainted myself with the city a little better. I walked from my hotel nearly to the ocean before it started raining. I’m impressed with just how much natural space Singapore has maintained. It’s a city, don’t get me wrong, but grass and trees proliferate everywhere I’ve been. Some areas have even been left completely natural.

That afternoon I took a cab to the MOE (Ministry of Education – my official bosses) to drop off some paperwork. After running that errand I came back to the hotel and relaxed before dinner.

My uncle is a foodie. A huge foodie, and he took one of his coworkers and me to Iggy’s for dinner. Eight courses, wine, delicious. Everything was incredible. We started with fish and potato amuse-bouche, pate, salad, fish, steak, and two slightly different desserts. Absolutely excellent.

The next morning was Saturday, thus my uncle didn’t have to work. The same co-worker that came with us to dinner took us out to breakfast, traditional Singaporean breakfast. Pig leg, soup, various veggies, rice, and noodles, yum! Afterwards she took us to the local wet market (not as wet as you’d expect) to shop for a BBQ she was having later that weekend.

We loaded up on meat, veggies, fruit, and prawns before going back to her flat. We met her children, mother, and maid before heading to Orchard Rd, one of the shopping capitals of the world (certainly Singapore). We wandered through a seemingly endless maze of shops after eating… dim sum with soup? I don’t remember exactly what it’s called, unfortunately, but imagine a dumpling, like dim sum, that has a soup inside. When you bite into the dumpling the soup comes rushing out. Fantastic! Ice cream, and back to the hotel to relax.

Before dinner, I met with one of my professor’s friend who lives in Singapore. He’s storing a bag for me. I dropped the bag off and he showed me around China Town and Club Street. Undoubtedly I’ll be back.

That night my uncle took me to an all you can eat Japanese restaurant. You pay a fixed price, and order to your heart’s content. More delicious food, I’m going to get fat at this rate.

That night I met a friend from college who grew up and now lives in Singapore. She took me to a small rooftop party with several other expats. We drank beer and chilled overlooking the city. Very enjoyable.

Sunday I continued my walking tour of Singapore. I walked along the river down to Raffles Square, and then back up past Boat Quay. It, of course, is incredibly hot in Singapore. An hour, maybe two in the sun is about all I can stand. But, it’s also beautiful and charming.

Sunday night was the BBQ. Most of my uncle’s coworkers and their families were in attendance. I let some of the kids play with my camera, and I’ve got some interesting pictures. Most people were curious as to what I’m doing in Singapore, so I explained a half dozen times my job placement and everything else.

I’ve also discovered that Singaporean kids aren’t really that different from US kids. Lo and behold the 17-18 year olds had separated from the adults and where playing a drinking game. How novel! I joined them. They played a slightly modified version of Mafia, with drinking. Not long after, the BBQ broke up and everyone headed home.

This morning I’ve continued walking along the city. Wrote this, and am taking care of a variety of different things before I leave for Cambodia tomorrow. I’ll try to keep this updated as best I can. At least one post per country. And keep checking back for more pictures and the like.

Orange County, CA

I have always enjoyed spending time with my aunt immensely; this trip is no exception. Dubbed “la la land” by my dad, Orange County is a beautiful area of southern California. Perfect in many regards, everything is pristine, manicured, 75 and sunny. Many would call it paradise, and to many it is.

My first day, having slept little the night before, was spent visiting the camera store. I have a new camera and new lens, thank you so much Aunt Jeanie and Uncle Kenny, as a belated graduation gift. For all my loyal readers, my pictures should be that much better.

That night we ate at an Italian restaurant, Giuseppe’s, which has the most delectable chicken and artichoke lasagna. I’m attempting to replicate the recipe. Assuming I do, I’ll post it up here along with pictures.

The following day was spent sleeping in and visiting one of SoCal’s beautiful beaches. I lay out, read, and slept. That night we journeyed to Laguna Beach for The Pageant of the Masters, art theatre.

Anyone familiar with Arrested development may remember and episode where Buster is required to pose, without moving, for a live reproduction of a piece of art. Not only is that event real, but it happens every summer in Laguna Beach. “Only Make Believe” surprisingly enough, focused on the make believe. We passed from fairies to dragons and ancient myths to futuristic science fiction.

Should you have the opportunity of going, I beg you get good seats. The performance art cannot be appreciated, even with binoculars, from a distance. And perhaps save the trip for another year. I enjoyed it immensely, but the artistic direction suffered from, well, a lack of direction. Not to mention, many of the pieces eluded any previous recognition. It is hard to appreciate the reproduction without former knowledge of the work itself.

The following day my aunt took me to an acupuncturist to help the mild cold I’m currently suffering from. Anyone who balks at the idea of having many dozens of small needles flicked into their body, reconsider. I have, over the course of many years, had tremendous success with acupuncture. It won’t cure a broken bone, but whatever subtle system it does affect, for me, makes a noticeable difference.

And now, I sit in the airport lounge bound for Singapore. Much and more to come in the near future.