“What’s for dinner?” you ask me. “How about porridge?” I suggest. “Porridge? That’s so boring.” “Maybe, but we are doing Italian tomorrow. That new place at Pavilion. And that French place on Friday with our makan gang. The girls fly in on Saturday from Taipei, so that’s an entire weekend of eating and eating.” “Oh …
We are at dinner with your colleagues, a sort of post-Chinese-New-Year reunion for one of them who has just returned from Houston with his wife in tow. The first dish arrives – a platter of yin/yang prawns (half cooked in Marmite sauce and the other half in what resembles an oriental Thousand Island dressing) – …
We are driving to dinner when you tell me you are thinking about tweaking your pictures again. Aren’t the pictures already up? I ask. You say yes, you posted them up this morning. But the picture of the pork belly soup, the soup spoon needs to be a little bit brighter, you say. And the …
Another rainy day, another traffic jam. Life on the roads of Kuala Lumpur. I drive into the underground parking area of the mall, the usual turns, the usual row of parking bays. Three sets of escalators and I join the afternoon crowds. A couple of hours before the end of the working day. I head …
The sun bears down on me. It’s a rather hot afternoon. I enter the pâtisserie again and ask if I may have the table inside instead. Air-conditioning, always a boon given our weather. Of course, you say, smiling, please do. There are no other customers right now, so we start chatting. It’s the polite thing …
We brave the crowds. Last minute shopping for Chinese New Year. An entire box of premium mandarin oranges. Rows of assorted canned mollusc flesh – limpets, clams and abalone. I consider a multi-coloured package of ready-to-go yee sang but you shake your head. Fresh only, you say. I nod in agreement though secretly I wonder …
It’s almost Chinese New Year, you say. We haven’t bought anything. We’ve got time, I say, no rush. It’s at least two, three weeks away. Right? You consider this. I see you doing mental calculations in your head, something I’ve never been really good at. No, you say, we don’t have two to three weeks. …
Kenny Mah believes in the good in people. He has been blogging for over ten years. No, his hands aren't tired. Yet.