“I can sum Woody Allen and you in one word: Anxiety.”

And right he was, the Wise Blue One. Mike’s really been a saint to me these couple of days, and here he was again, at my place before 5, saving my ass as always. Plastic bowls, he got them! I couldn’t believe they actually existed. I seemed convinced that something was going to go wrong, mostly because everything was right on schedule and nothing was burning.

Maybe it’s a Chinese/Jewish thing. Being misers, having mothers, that kind of thing.

Anyway, he brought along Shannon, who just flew in from Chicago this morning and was rather jetlagged. We sent her to the bedroom to rest while I pondered upon impending disaster in the kitchen. The sweet red bean soup for dessert was almost done. Basically just the chopping of stuff left. J-Dawg got to peel the eggplants cos I hated doing that.

When Shannon woke up, we got around to more weird bits of conversation, one of which was my hearing. Extraordinarily bad to the extent where you could be standing right in front of me and be speaking both clearly and coherently, and I’ll never catch what you say or misinterpret it.

This could be amusing at times, trying at others. Even seemingly safe banter like “How is the weather?” had me wondering why someone would ask me if the cow pissed at the wanker. Ah, but if you’re having a conversation halfway across a crowded room, I’d catch every single word… I managed a demonstration later that evening, when we had 13 people in the kitchen, that may have frightened her.

The secret of my hearing? Simply this: just mention “Kenny” in any context and I’ll catch it. E.g. “The world population had been increasing drastically Kenny of late and it is paramount that we Kenny take steps to reduce Kenny…” You get the idea. A built-in search engine filter thingy. More Woody Allen, perhaps.

The evening went on fine. The rest came, in a collective, which was a tad overwhelming, but by then everything was ready, and I started cooking in a jiffy. Mains were a staple of rice served with an egg tofu, Chinese black mushroom,vegetable dish and spicy, fried eggplants with minced beef & pork.

The last one I made two versions: one normal and one less spicy for the ladies, who had trouble with Manuel and Marco’s pasta the last time, which was a great shame, cos it was magnificent. Erich ate what the girls ate, and I was happy for I did not want another choking incident on my hands…

Then came dessert. Everything seemed fine, I just ladled out bowlfuls of my pride and joy, till I noticed Erich playing with his. I knew the look on his face. I tried some myself, and confirmed the worst. Didn’t have the heart to make Erich eat more and announced that no one needed to finish the red bean soup if they didn’t feel like it.

Instantaneously, loud ker-plinks of spoons hitting many, many bowls.

(Ok, maybe I was exaggerating the last bit, but I was so disappointed with the results.)

Which made Hadi and Christine the smartest of the lot, for not liking beans and having a petite appetite respectively, not taking any dessert. I should have learned from the last time, shouldn’t I? Made black herbal jelly in soybean milk. Ga. I’m killing dessert from now on. Back to double choc ice cream.

The surprise of the evening was when Thor came, an hour too late for all the food was gone. Poor dude had some rice with chilli sauce, was all my kitchen could offer him. And he shaved his head again. Righto.

A good evening, I think, all in all.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.