Category Archives: Cooking

Eating

Spring                                                        Wedding Moon

relish4A lot of our visit to Singapore has revolved around eating. Yesterday morning we met Anita.  Anita offered prayers at her temple for me during my prostate surgery last year, is a long time colleague of Mary’s. She’s writing a book about her community, Indians from Kerala but living for a long time in Singapore. We had breakfast at Relish, a restaurant close to Mary’s apartment.

Lunch was Mary, Kate and I at Miyabi, a Japanese restaurant on the second floor of the Raffles Town Club. Excellent food. Authentic Japanese decor and seating. One side room I noticed was named Fu Yu. Not shorthand, I’m sure, as it would be in English.

tanglin tavernIn the evening a friend of Mary’s treated us to a pub meal in the Tanglin Club, the oldest such club in Singapore, founded in 1865. The Tavern and Fireplace, where we ate, replicates an English pub. I had fish and chips with vinegar on the fries. Just right. These clubs began as old style English gentlemen’s clubs, a bit of home in the tropics. The Tanglin apparently was started for English rubber plantation owners and their colleagues.

hash hikingWe learned about Hash hiking from Mary’s friend. This partial headline from the Guardian gives you the central point: “…a club that takes drinking as seriously as running.” Here are two websites: the guardian article and one from expat go. Though it started in Malaysia among expats concerned about staying trim while drinking plenty of beer, it’s quirky style has given it an international presence.

Including, I discovered easily, several Colorado clubs.

 

Impressions

Spring                                                   Wedding Moon

Ate last night at the Dining Room, the Raffles Town Club’s award winning “Western” restaurant. I asked Kate what she imagined made the restaurant “Western.” “Everything’s cooked.” Kate’s not a fan of raw anything.

I’m going to add more pictures from Nirvana (hey, you can take photographs in Nirvana!), but they’ll have to wait until I get back to Adobe Photoshop. The WordPress image manipulator seems confounded by their metaphysics. Or something.

A random thought. I read an interesting short article last month (which I will post at some point) about a transition one analyst saw as well underway. He pointed out that just as the authority of the church declined dramatically after the rise of nation states so now the authority of the nation states is declining dramatically as global corporations become more and more powerful. Korea, Hong Kong and Singapore are strong examples of his point: chaebols like Samsung and Hyundai impact Korean life, Hong Kong capitalists are holding off the powerful Central Committee of China and Singapore unabashedly runs itself for business interests. There’s a lot to chew on in this idea.

 

 

 

A hot time in the air-conditioned nation

botanic gardensHave I mentioned that it’s hot here? Kate and I walked through the Botanic Gardens, very beautiful and close to my sister Mary’s apartment, to get to a tour bus stop. By the time we got to the right place we had soaked our t-shirts. The heat + high humidity is a challenge for both of us. And, today was cooler.

We stopped at the Botanic Gardens outdoor cafe and had cool drinks, sat under a fan. That helped. So did shopping at the excellent, and air conditioned, gift shop.

The hop-on bus tour took a couple of hours but it allowed us to see the highlights of Singapore. The bus had personalized ducts for its air conditioning. A good thing for both of us. We went down Orchard Road which is a main retail shop with vertical malls selling the same kind of luxury goods I mentioned as available in the Incheon and Hong Kong airports.

Marina ParkThe architecture is cutting edge modern with lots of angles, odd shapes, glass, polished metal and cut stone. Mary says a constant theme here is upgrading: buildings, civil engineering, education, business. The Marina Park development, which contains many whimsical modern buildings, is an example. The Singapore Flyer, a huge ferris wheel, a park set high above the street on three building towers, structures shaped like a lotus flower, a hedgehog, and an inverted whale skeleton all draw the eye.

violet-oon-singapore-bukit-timah1At the same time there is the historic part of Singapore which includes the grand Raffles Hotel, the Museum of Asian Art, China Town, the Botanic Gardens and the Peranakan neighborhood. This last reflects the particular architecture of the folks who were in Singapore the earliest. They have a beautiful ceramic tradition.

Back at the Raffles Town Club Kate and I left our things in our room and walked around the curved hallways on our floor to the Chinese restaurant. Dim sum and almond coated crispy chicken. Quite tasty.

This evening we’re going to a restaurant (picture above) that features cuisine of the Peranakan culture. Mary says the chef, Violet Oon (great name), is a local celebrity.

 

 

Gratitude

Spring                                                                           Maiden Moon

20160321_110457Kate. Such a sweety. She wanted to thank the Sano staff for the good care they took of Vega: a lasagna with a great ragu sauce, a lasagna with mushrooms, a pecan pie and a tomato/mozzarella salad. We took all this over at 12:30 yesterday for their 1 p.m lunch hour. Looked like the work of a pro-caterer.

The big attraction though was Vega. When I brought her in, she slumped down, tried to be small. No more poking or cutting or needles or things, please. Then all the Sano staff gathered around her, petted her, cooed over her and she brightened up, smiled. Georgia, a vet tech, said, “Well. It was all worth it.”

And it has been. Last night as I got on the treadmill for my evening workout I looked out the loft window to the north, a good view of our backyard. There was Vega, her tail held high, hopping through the deep snow, on her own mission. The sight moved me to tears. Yes, it was all worth it.

Bloody Marys at Breakfast

Samhain                                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

Into Denver in the morning today. Unusual for us since our city excursions are usually in the evening.

We went to Lucile’s, Denver for breakfast. I mentioned Lucile’s, Littleton a short while back. The Denver site, at Alameda and Logan, is hip. Full at 8:30 am with whip thin Coloradans, men and women, young families and a few older guys sitting at the bar eating scrambled eggs and drinking Bloody Marys.

Kate had rice pudding porridge with currants. I had red beans, poached eggs and cheese grits. We shared a side of collard greens and finished the meal off with beignets. Tasty.

After breakfast, we made our way through Denver, navigating north and east toward the old Stapleton airport. Jon and Jen live near there. We were bearing those Hanukkah gifts.

On the way home we made a complete circle, taking I-70 to Evergreen, then Brook Forest Drive to Black Mountain Drive and home. This particular route gives us a view of snow covered peaks to the west and lets us drive through more mountains on the way to our house.

Tonight we go to Domo’s, the rural Japanese cuisine restaurant Jon and Jen introduced me to long ago. Scott and Yin Simpson are in town and we’ll meet them there. Lot of driving.

 

The Year of Two Thanksgivings

Samhain                                                                     Thanksgiving Moon

Grandson Gabe walked in the door and asked two important questions right away: Grandpop, what’s the password for your wi-fi? This was followed quickly by a pulled down t-shirt. See my new port! It was on his right side, had a small yellow butterfly valve in place temporarily and looked good. The end of a week long saga of hospital, surgery, recovery. That’s what he and his parents did on Thanksgiving day, Thursday.

So, we had a Thanksgiving brunch today: prime rib roast, popovers, squash from Jon and Jen’s garden, a rice dish from Barb, then pecan pie and homemade vanilla bean ice cream.

It was one of those children at the table holiday meals where the kids could hardly wait to get away. God, I remember that feeling. Stuck with the old people talking about grown up stuff. Boring. Really boring. I’m dying here. Let me go, please let me go.

Barb (Jen’s mother) recounted the story of her husband, Henry, and his family’s escape from Romania in 1964. Her father-in-law, mother-in-law and 16 year old Henry plus some other family members got ransomed by a group specializing in getting Jews out from behind the Iron Curtain. Henry’s parents wanted to go Israel. They got a flight to Vienna, then Genoa where they were told it would be six months before they could get papers for Israel.

Old town in Brasov, Transylvania
Old town in Brasov, Transylvania

Henry’s father knew there was a large Romanian Jewish community in Buffalo, New York, so they went there instead. Barb grew up in Buffalo. The rest of the story is Jen, Karen and Andy.

These are the long tendrils that any Thanksgiving meal sends out, connections weak and strong to ancestors who suffered, who triumphed, who slogged out their life and in that way allowed the people around this table to come together.

I’m grateful for each one in that great cloud of past lives who preceded this Saturday Thanksgiving on Black Mountain Drive. Yes, even those we don’t like so much. Without them, we wouldn’t have eaten this meal as a family today.

Oh. And the dogs got the four rib bones with plenty of meat on them. I’m grateful, too, for the doggy ancestors who brought this current pack of ours into existence.

 

Went West as an Old Man

Lughnasa                                                                  Elk Rut Moon

Drove home Monday night, got in around 10 pm. Pretty whacked out from the drive and whatever is bugging my left elbow. The elbow made sleeping difficult to impossible. No sense paying for a bed I couldn’t sleep in.

On previous driving trips turning north marked the turn toward home. This time it was heading west. A different feeling. Turning north meant lakes, pine trees, wolves, a border with Canada, 40+ years of memories, cooler weather. Heading west conjures up wagon trains, First Nations people, the plains, aridity, mountains, elk, mule deer, moose, mountain lions and black bears. And less than a year’s worth of memories.

When I hit the Denver metro, an L.E.D. highway sign reminded truck drivers that they had to have chains with them from now until May 16th. The folks installing the generator wanted to get it done in early October because it’s possible to have thick snow cover soon after that.

Altitude makes a big difference.  The aspen have begun to turn up here on Shadow, Black and Conifer mountains. The effect is subtle, but beautiful. Various stands of aspen, small compared to the lodgepole and ponderosa and Colorado blue spruce that dominate the mountains above 8,000 feet, turn gold, accenting the evergreens. It’s a sort of arboreal mimicking of the gold rush as the color of the precious metal shows up, fleetingly, on mountain sides.

While I was gone, Jon finished five more bookshelves and put doors on the lower unit I’ll use for coffee and tea among other things. That means today I’ll start installing shelving and books. This should be enough to get all the remaining books onto shelves and off the floor. Organizing them will be a task of the fall.

Kate goes in for thumb surgery on Friday. That means three months or so of one-handedness, a long time for a seamstress/quilter/cook. The gas stove gets hooked up tomorrow and I’ll head to the grocery store for the first time in quite a while on Saturday. I’ll be at home on the range. Looking forward to it. She’s lost a lot of weight so one of my tasks will be to help her gain weight. An ironic task if there ever was one.

In further organ recital news I have yet another visit to an audiologist tomorrow. We’ll see what the new technology can do for the deteriorating hearing in my right ear. Kate’s hopeful they can do something for my left (deaf) ear, but I’m doubtful.

 

Looking for a Sign from God?

Lughnasa                                                             New Labor Day Moon

liveroadsignR285As you head into the foothills on Hwy. 285, there is one of those digital signs. The first night I drove up here to Black Mountain Drive it read: Watch for Wildlife. Seeing that l.e.d. message made me feel like I was going home, even that first night. After all the rain we’ve had this summer, it now reads: Watch for Rocks and Wildlife. This is not Round Lake Boulevard in Andover.

Another sign, at a Catholic Church in Woodland where we were last Saturday: If you’re looking for a sign from God, this may be it.

Bush-hogging. Another term new to me. Someone wanted a bush-hogger for their property. I looked it up. Oh, it’s one of those mower things pulled behind a tractor.

A part of grandparent immersion, this week and next, is taking the kids back, every other day or so, in the late afternoon. Due to rush hour on I-70, “that I-70 mess” as our mortgage banker referred to it, we’ve taken the opportunity to find new restaurants and new sections of Denver.

Gabe and Vega
Gabe and Vega

Last night we ate at Leña on South Broadway. “Leña is a Latin American inspired upscale, casual restaurant with a fun, vibrant atmosphere, focused on sharing and communal dining. The name translates to “firewood”, and a white oak, wood fired grill serves as a culinary focal point, offering a vast asado selection of grilled meats, seafood, and vegetables.”

Good food, buzzy, hipster atmosphere. Another new term to me: check presenter. When we tried to return a book to a customer who had just left, a waiter informed us that the book was, “their check presenter.” Sure enough, when it came time to pay, the same book came to our table with the check in the flyleaf. It contained, too, a note from an apparently very happy gay customer. Somewhat, well, no, a lot, blue.

Lena300After the meal, we walked up Broadway toward the car. Leaning over the sidewalk facing counter at Sweet Action, an ice cream joint a couple of doors away, were a woman and her three kids, eating ice cream cones. I nodded to her since they had been sitting near us in Lena and said, “I thought about stopping here.” She smiled and said, “This is the way you top it off.” There was something warm in her reply, inclusive, and it made me feel welcome in this neighborhood.

#thisisironic

Lughnasa                                                        Recovery Moon

Yesterday finally got Herb, the ex-Minnesota, ex-Andover resident, ex-USAF guy to put in the gas line for our generator install and the gas stove we intend to buy for the kitchen. Under the #thisisironic hashtag our power went out that morning around 3 a.m. It was out all day, not coming back on until around 10 p.m. If we’d been able to get this done last week…

Something happened to a power pole. The problem was, a Colorado mountain problem, that the pole was located at some high, distant location. This means they had to bring helicopters and crews that work from them.

Over the course of the day we heard small town gossip that power was out until today at the earliest. Maybe Wednesday. Doesn’t sound like much, I know. But we’re on our own well, like our neighbors. No electricity, no water. This was the primary reason for our owning a generator in the first place. Of course, it’s also true, no electricity, no heat. And, in our current, pre-kitchen renovation state, no way to cook hot food. Electric stove.

Before surgery I could not eat and thought only of food, yesterday, when we had no electricity, we thought only of the things we were missing. No stove. No lights. No water. No news. No way to recharge cell phones. No internet. No TV. No garage door opener.

We live a life of great privilege. It’s easy to forget that until something basic gets taken away, even for a short while. In Maslow’s hierarchy the very bottom of the pyramid is taken by the Hullian needs: air, water, food, the essentials of survival. If you don’t have them, that’s where your attention is. Electricity, in our technology/appliance dependent culture, is only one step further up the pyramid.

The world is big and most of it doesn’t have dependable electricity, huge swaths of humanity don’t have enough food or water. Like meatless Fridays, an electricityless day now and then is good for the soul.

Around the Bulge

Lughnasa                                                            Recovery Moon

Yesterday and today I opened my Latin texts, continuing to translate the story of Medea in Book 7. Yesterday my eyes crossed and my brain froze. Too hard. Today, though, much better. I did 4 verses plus in an hour, then ran out of motivation. My goal is to get back to at least 5 verses a day or more, which was my pace b.c.

Soon, sometime soon, Superior Wolf will return, this were creature loose in the Arrowhead of northern Minnesota. He’s proven as elusive to me as the author as he will to the people who hunt him and his kind. Different versions of this novel, always fragmentary, are in my files from before this millennium.

The gas lines tomorrow. And my new crown. Oh, boy. The final IKEA delivery for now comes on Tuesday. Jon will be up sometime with the base for my art table. I hope he has time to assemble and join the two additional tall bookcases and the cabinet section for my tea and coffee accessories before he returns to work. The mini-fridge is in the garage.

Life has begun to ease around the bulge of April, May, June and July. We ate at an indifferent Italian restaurant last night before the theater (see below). No medical conversation. Memories though of our honeymoon, the Italian food against which we compare every Italian place. And they almost never match up. The Italians have something special with their food and their coffee. And their art. And history.

I told Kate last night over dinner that it felt like my summer had finally started.