Some of my friends back in Singapore have come together in the name of design, national pride and awesomeness. Singapore Souvenirs is an exhibition held as part of the Singapore Design Festival 2009. It’s going to be held at the Old City Hall from the 20th to 30th of November, with an opening party on the 21st. The exhibition shows off some designs of products that are envisioned as souvenirs from our tiny island nation. The fact that my mates made/created/invented/dreamed them up makes me mad proud of em. So if you’re free and have something to do, you should drop that and go to the exhibition.
A lot of the stuff shows off their sense of humour and thought as well as a uniquely Singaporean perspective on things. There’s not too much Singaporean designed stuff, and much of it tends to ape whatever we can find in the West or Japan, not that that’s intrinsically bad, but just that it’s a pity our own local culture doesn’t see quite as much light. My mates though, do their darndest to shed a little bit and hopefully it’s a spark that will burn brighter in the future.
Hans’ gold plated fruitbowl, Fruitbowl Lah has been around for a while now and certainly deserves more merit than it gets. It subverts the idea of luxury and style by taking a ubiquitous plastic fruit bowl and coating it in gold, taking a pedestrian Singaporean object and turning it into something important. Which is kind of like the thread of the exhibition, taking something commonplace and everyday but giving it light and giving it life, and as a result of which, asking the question of just what Singapore design or Singapore culture should be.
This theme is replicated with Winston’s Coffeeshop Ashtrays. An avid smoker, he probably came up with the idea over 20 packs of menthol lights. In coffeeshops round Singapore, you always see these decrepit looking empty tins that once contained condensed milk. Their labels have been ripped off and sometimes a lid is a made with raffia string on the top and it’s used as a cheapass ashtray instead, containing the ashes of a million stinko fags and some gross and hell brown water, fermented from the juices of leftover char kway teow. This “local design” came about because of the frugality and cleverness of Singaporean coffeshop owners and it took a mad smoker to see it. So he gets it made outta ceramic, taking it to a whole new level, celebrating the small timey-ness of Singapore, a tiny island nation that prides itself on being resourceful.
There’s also plenty other stuff and peeps that deserve mentions as well, from Jieyu & Winston’s Kueh Tutu eraser to John’s Singlish Notebook to Tze’s expectedly more cerebral treatises on stamps and money, or Joe’s kinda political Kenaban chewing gum magnets, Fuxing’s 3D Postcards and Edwin’s SG Wallpaper and a helluva lot more. It’s a little arty, a little designy, a little rebellious and quite a lot of tongue in cheek. Just wish I coulda been in Singapore to see it all in the flesh.
Good stuffs guys! Keeps it up.
Finally. A hectic week of living in a dingy backpacker’s room for a week + me screwing up my computer + school +work have come to an end. All that crap just meant I didn’t have any time at all to update the blog. Till now. I’m living in a dingy house, my computer’s still screwed up and I’ve packed my stuff away and found some time.
Here’s the results of my first experiment, where I conned some mates into eating food cooked by my own pair’o'hands. I had wanted to go with this 3 course, plated service thing just because that’s what I’d been doing for so long. But my dad wanted some soup and I ended up putting a few little extras. We ended up having a Chinese-y dinner ultimately. Excuse the excessive blur filter my brother appliqued on the photos.
First up, was an amuse bouche made of stock jelly from the pre experiment testing phase. Its basically pork stock colored with dark soy. This went together with this clam soup that my dad made that was pretty much konbu stock with clams and tofu.
Then we had the entree, Calamansi Prawns with Pickled Radish and Cucumber. I just wanted something bright to start out with, so I went with calamansi something. I think its because I miss my mother’s lime juice, which she used to painstakingly make by squeezing 1 million calamansis to make just 1 glass at her father’s coffeeshop back in the 70s/80s. The cucumber and radish my family had been chomping down so I think it was a natural thing I wanted to have. I just made long thin strips with my MUJI peeler that I forgot to bring back, pickled them in a bit of calamansi juice with salt and finishing with sesame oil. I sauteed the marinated prawns with salt and pepper then topped it all off with some fried leek from my excess mire poix.
Next, the main, Chinese Pork Trotter Roulade with Spinach & Enoki Mushrooms. I made a mire poix of leek and onions and sweat it off on a roasting pan. I laid out pork trotters and filled it up with chicken stock, water and a splash of dark soy. To this, I added some pears, almonds, star anise, cassia bark, red dates and cloves.
Then I covered the tray with foil and off they went into the oven. 6 hours at 140 degrees celsius, with me flipping the trotters at the halfway mark. When the time was up, I took em out and set them aside to cool, before prying the skin off, trying my best to keep them whole. These I laid flat and chilled. Doing this would let them firm up and make them way more workable. The flesh I peeled clean off the bone. I set aside these bigger, whole pieces of muscle, some of which had the end bit of the achilles tendon on. They would go into the stock as a dish by themselves, a reminder of the classic Chinese version of what I was trying to remake. The rest of the fat/meat/tendon/gelatin I mashed up and seasoned.
I then laid out the pork skins, put the stuffing on top in a line, followed by some blanched spinach and enoki mushrooms. Then I trussed everything up with my dad’s help and they got seared in a pan to finish. Afterwhich it was time to slice and serve in a pool of reduced stock.
I blame the crappy knives my family has and their lack of oil filters for the incompetency displayed above. Also, I would like to opine that my brother should stop shaking his hands. Still, at least it all tasted good. Another good thing was also serving rice and extra spinach so everyone was actually fed.
Then came dessert after a series of sakes and wine. You’ll have to believe me when I say it was a Banana Semifreddo since I have no pictures of it. The inspiration being the name of the street my house was situated on. It used to be a banana plantation back in the day. My street, Lorong Pisang Emas, took its name from the small golden bananas used for deep frying into goreng pisang. I sent that out with some half caramelized bananas because the stove went on strike. Here’s some photos of a lump free sabayon, chopped almonds and banana slices that formed part of it.
End of the day/night, I think I enjoyed myself immensely, even if I knew I had a long long way to go. I really liked the main, which I paid the most attention to. The way I did it, it managed to be rather delicate in terms of flavor. I think adding the spices, almonds and pears gave good body to the flavor. I hope my friends went away less hungry than when they’d arrived. I know I’ve learnt a few things from this exercise alone. Most importantly that I need to get one person with a decent camera to document everything I’m doing because greasy fingers + camera = gross.
One night at dinner, I had a brief conversation with my cousin. It revolved around a particular star shaped green bean that is often used in Malay cuisine. Which then turned into a short discussion that you can’t really do great French food with local ingredients and that local ingredients probably deserved better then to be shunted into another cuisine, like some unwanted lovechild.
This got me thinking. I’m often obsessed by the latest amazing, exotic ingredient from the caverns beneath Timbuktoo or the discovery of some incredible thing that came from a lab in Stockholm or whatever but I know next to nothing about the food of my own country. I was ashamed. I mean, I know a bit but not as intimately and the same passionate fervour as I do with stuff like, the next big trend for guys (tapered multicolored patterned sweatpants) or what Takeshi Kaneshiro says during the freeze frame in Chunking Express.
So, in view of that, I decided I’d attempt to cook something using only local ingredients, so local that I only go to the nearby market and nowhere else. Reason being, I’m a cheapskate, but more so because I think it really amplifies the eat/cook local thing. The market in question is Bukit Timah Market & Food Centre, where the produce is pretty pedestrian. Whatever you can find there, you can find all over the island’s many markets. Its got absolutely nothing super special.
The other thing I’m going to do, is I’m not cooking French food. Or fusion food. I’m just cooking food period. It’s not even particularly Singaporean or Chinese. It’s just what I see in the market and what I think I could make that would be interesting, and taste good. 3 courses, service a la Russe, 9 people (5 friends + 4 family), copious amounts of alcohol and nothing too fancy.
The first thing that popped out when I went to the market, was these pig’s trotters. What’s great is the availability. Every pork butcher had them and in some quantity, enough for my plans. Also, its a good part of our food heritage involving Chinese stews whether using vinegar or oyster sauce as the base. I reckon having a stew as a main, with a thick, gelatinous texture and a rich mouthfeel would probably hit the spot no matter how bad I sucked. But I wanted to do something funny with it. Other than slow cooking it with some onions and leek, I thought I’d debone it and then wrap up the trotter with some enoki mushrooms as an edible “bone”, which complements the pork in terms of flavor and lends a textural contrast. I’m also going to mix up the flesh with some extras (perhaps some pears, used in Chinese soups as well as being a classic pairing with pork) and then put that back in and this way, I’d hopefully get an elegant rolled up log with concentric circles. Then I’ll sear this off in a pan before slicing it to serve for some color and extra flavor.
With the juices, I’ll reduce it and add some soy for color and flavor, possibly some honey although I reckon the collagen in the feet will make the juice thick already. We’ll see.
Now I just need to decide on the entree (probably some kind of seafood), the veg for the pork (spinach or kangkong or some local type green I’ve never touched before) and the dessert (leaning towards a soy milk flavored panna cotta).
Filed under: Fashion, Retail, Singapore | Tags: apc, jumpsuit, sg, shop, steez
I actually shop at more places than just Uniqlo. There’s also Muji for instance. Pricier but better quality, if rather understated in style. When there’s a sale on, I’m surprised people don’t drag shit off the shelves. Not to mention the always interesting food section with stuff like an apple juice drink flavored with perilla (shiso) that made it taste berry-esque. Or the awesome stationery like this dope hexagonal 2 sided pen I scoped. Ultimately, I pulled the trigger on a really solid vegetable peeler for work purposes and a pair of white canvas shoes.
Here’s some other joints that I’m looking forward to visiting if I get the chance. I filtered out quite a buncha stuff, mostly because I’m no longer interested in streetwear stuff. Of which, it must be said, there’s a good amount of here in Singapore. I hope none of these stores have collapsed though.
Blackmarket – they stock Lad Musician and a shitload of local labels according to the website.
Front Row – If only because I want to look at this kooky A.P.C jumpsuit. They probably won’t have it. I also probably will never buy it.
Blackjack/Club 21 – So I can shop for a sugar tai tai.
Style: Nordic – Mainly for Filippa K. I don’t think they have what I’m looking for though.
Asylum – They brought in Chronicles of Never and Diet Butcher Slim Skin. But I’m mostly wanting to ogle some silly, useless objects.
Ambush – Might be interesting since the last time I went there, it was still in Far East and not so nu rave labelled.
I’m sure there’s some more places. I might compile a food list next. All my notes for each place seem to indicate I’m mostly half hearted. I’m expecting all the stores to stock mostly just tees, polos and jeans. I also wanted to mention that I’m disappointed by the selection at the Clarks shop in Suntec. The uncle was pretty nice and helpful though.
Filed under: Fashion, Retail, Singapore | Tags: koppage, sg, shop, steez, uniqlo
Ok I was there at 10-ish and it was packed. The store at Tampines 1 is located on the 2nd floor and its rather small but its expected given that its just Tampines. Although, Singapore being so tiny, you could open a store in Punggol and it might do fine. The locals go where its worth it. They’re smart like that. The crowd was a mix of youngsters and aunties. Its only Uniqlo, but in Singapore, it was kind of a big deal. To me, its largely an awesome basics company, with optional extras. I crow about it only because I’m broke as and it provides my nether regions with a spot of color.
I have to say, I’m a touch disappointed, largely because the Opening Ceremony collabo wasn’t there. Hello Opening Ceremony at the Opening Celebration? Wah lau. Isn’t that kind of auspicious?
I was expecting them to slash most of the selection and basically have a polo/tee/jeans kinda vibe and that was exactly what the store was. So I guess, I was semi prepared for a let down. I just kept hoping that the OC stuff might just make the cut. I’m also expecting, based on conversations with the super lovely store staff, (who helped me get another pair of jeans cos of my fat ass. thank you girls so much!) that the Orchard Ion store will hopefully stock the other stuff, like outerwear, cardis etc. I’m crossing my fingers that the next time I want something, I can just get someone to pop down and grab it and not have to proxy stuff and pay shipping and fees etc.
Anyway, I did get the jeans and some other stuff I wanted. So I’m still ok. Like the auntie behind me in the Q said, “Come all the way here, if dun buy something, feel left out!”. She also said, “Come back next week, when the fever die down, then buy some more.”.
Words of wisdom, although I’m pretty sure I won’t be grabbing much else. Maybe some more socks. I like they socks.
This smackingly patriotic piece is basically a testament to the wonderful country of S 2 da G. Where else do you get freakin’ express customs counters where you scan your passport with an IR then roll a thumbprint scan to double confirm your identity against your passport. Takes all of 5 seconds. Locals only. Suck it.
I said I’d eat durians right after I got off the plane but I didn’t, I had laksa. But that’s just cos Katong is closer to the airport than Geylang. So durians were second and I waited till I got home as well.
We stepped up to a random stall and just picked up 6 for $40. The guy asked us, “sweet or bitter?”. The unanimous answer was, unquestionably, “Bitter!”. The dude picked one up, shook it, sliced it once, then inserted the knife at the top end, splitting the fruit open in one motion, proffering it to my mother, who poked at the tender yellow flesh. This live shucking process is a commonplace practice conducted between durian buyer and seller, affirming that the quality of the product is sufficient versus the price. It’s also an important step in the gastronomic enjoyment of the king of fruits steeped in centuries of tradition and lore, myth and culture.
How to tell if a durian is good? Like anything else, its all about your senses. The first thing that should hit you, especially now in the literal heat of the durian season, is the smell. It should stink the living shit out of an entire block. In a good way. Durian is such a complex creamy fruit. When allowed to ripen, enzymes within the fruit produce a harmonious blend of flavors and increasingly soften the flesh till it resembles El Bulli style sferificacions of liquid creme brulee in a sac. This ripening process is most pronounced with its smell, which is what lures the animals and humans in.
Next up, you lift up the fruit and feel its weight. It shouldn’t be too heavy. Compare with another one and you’ll see. Reason being the lighter it feels, the more flesh is likely to be present versus the seed content. Then you shake. This lets you know if the parcels within have a layer of air between the husk and the flesh and the compactness of the contents. If you hear little, its probably unripe. If you hear something, its all good.
Following which, the next step would be to split it open and look at the flesh and feel it. Depending on taste, you can opt for anything between a firm to near liquid flesh.
The main thing isn’t paying for the most expensive ones but getting to know which stage of ripeness you like your durian and what style. Just like cheese. Beginner durians would have to be Thai durians, which are humongous outside and in. The seeds are shockingly massive and the amount of flesh is too. Tastewise, it ranges from mild to sweet custard like. The next step is the typical durian or intermediate stage, where you’re going for firm fleshed, Malaysian/Indonesian durians which are glossy fleshed and dry on the surface but very moist within. These babies run smaller than the Thai variety but pack more flavor and you also gain increasing amounts of bittersweetness that cuts through the heaviness.
The creme de la creme, durians for gourmands only, which I will surely sample on a later date, are ugly as shit. The fruit itself is typically wonky shaped. The more normally shaped a durian is, the less pronounced the flavors will be. Do note that even the Thai durians can have a very strong flavor, its still a relatively simple one. These near decomposition specimens that I mention are on another level altogether. The next thing is the color of the flesh. The greyer/greener it is, the better. Not always true as some very mildly yellow fleshed varietals can be amazing as well but generally, the grey durians take the crown. These defy comprehension. Pure flavor, complex and bitter, yet sweet, moist and brimming with a zillion interfaces on your tongue. One taste and you’re either coughing up last night’s dinner or gone to an imaginary heaven.
To eat the durian, you basically split the fruit into segments. The vendor would have already opened up the first segment for you. If you have a fruit that is untouched, you can slash a diagonal across the fruit slightly, to see where the seam lies, then apply a knife in at the top end of that seam, twisting with some force to pry it open. Once you’ve done that, you’ve got the first segments to savour. Following which, you need to split open more segments when you’re done with those first tastes. This step is usually done by hand, placing the palms on either side, with the center seam in the middle. You apply downward pressure until it splits and repeat as necessary, being careful not to press on the spikes. This can get awkward with really wonky shaped ones, where the seam is a tight parabolic curve. But patience and hard work tend to be rewarded well.
Within each segment, you find a row of seeds covered in the tender flesh. You can find anywhere from 1 piece to a row of 6 or even more seeds, although it tends to be 1-4 seeds typically. The singular seeds tend to be the “perfect” ones, with a whole sac and a lovely shape. I have yet to conduct controlled taste tests with qualified durian tasters to determine if the placement and shape of each individual seed has any impact on flavor.
The fruit itself is basically composed of 5 parts. There’s the tan colored seed in the middle. You can get shrunken ones and even guaranteed genetically modified ones that come with shrunken seeds and hence, more flesh. This hard seed is like one huge nut that can actually be cooked and eaten. The top bit of the seed is white and its where it attaches to the husk. Its slightly fibrous in feel. Then there’s the flesh, which surrounds the seed and the color can range from off white to golden yellow, through to oranges, pinks and even reds. The green/grey version I mentioned before is a relative rarity, a gift from the durian gods bestowed amongst humanity. The flesh itself is covered by a thin sac, which gets weakened the riper the fruit is. Below the flesh is another layer, a thin film, which is gelatin like in texture and not creamy. It wraps around the bottom end of the seed.
Consumption can involve a variety of methods but suffice to say, you want to take it easy. First, get some newspaper. This is essential as it helps cleaning up and is essential in setting the tone, like drinking wine with a decanter but practical. Next, prep the fruit then smell, chew and move it all around the mouth, letting your body warmth realize the potential of the fruit before you swallow and feel that bitterness at the back of the throat. My personal method is taking a deep whiff, then creating a hole in the protecting film through the suction method. This also allows for an intake of custard. Then I place the seed 3/4ths the way in and surround it, using the lips to slide the cream off. Obviously, this involves smaller seeds. Next, the teeth come into play, prying off the final film, before a few flicks of the tongue ends things in a final flourish. When you get thirsty, and you will because its so rich, take a husk segment and fill it with water and then drink that. This old wives’ practice apparently helps to kill bad smells. I have yet to verify this in double blind taste tests involving hot girls. Those interested can apply in the comments boxes with a recent passport sized photo and ID certifying you’re over 18.
The first thing that greets you when you arrive in Singapore having come from a temperate country, is this wave of humidity, an all too familiar nigh liquidic experience that forces globules of perspiration to form on your temple within milliseconds.
The second thing is the stomach pangs demanding some food.
Being weak-willed, I succumbed and drove my mum to Katong for some laksa. We tried this other place, 328 but not the one on the street corner where everyone goes. It’s not quite as lemak as I’d like but still, its home sweet home baby.
Daz dat shit rite thurr. See dem laksa leaves? Daz how we do. Oh, and did I mention the cockles? Lovely, hep inducing morsels of wonder. Plump and firm bean sprouts, noodles at the right thickness, cut short so you only need a spoon and a few bits of prawns and fish cake. All that goodness swimming in a breathy stock thickened with coconut cream, made gritty by the addition of ground, dried shrimp. And deep fried pork lard.
To Singapore that is. By April 9th. Why you ask? Well simply because the global credit crunch has fucked the Australian dollar to shit and its now worth what it used to be worth/what its really worth. We have been found out and I can proxy no more. To my rescue comes Fast Retailing, who have decided they will grace me by opening a Uniqlo outlet or 2 back home in da SG yo.
And like any self respecting, cheapo as shit S’porean, I will be first in da queue! Tampines 1, here I come!
So I just caught Ichi The Killer, one of Takashi Miike’s masterworks that had Asano Tadanobu in one of the lead roles, alongside Nao Omori, who played the titular character. Most of the promo at the time when the film was out had a picture of Tadanobu with his augmented face, a lower jaw held in place by 2 piercings. (In the film, he takes them off to allow his lower jaw to drop further, turning his mouth into a weapon in a fight.)
This was back in ‘01 of course and I could hardly recognize Tadanobu and also hardly paid much attention to the film because it was being lauded as a gore flick. My ignorance probably led to the much delayed viewing, some 7 years later. The film is awkward in parts and has an ending that can be kinda confusing but also happens to be really over the top in terms of violence and perversion. I suppose that is the film’s bright spark, that its actually quite funny in how beyond violent it becomes, with all the blood and bodies getting sliced apart and spleens flying and shit.
The film centers around two main characters, Tadanobu’s Kakihara and Omori’s Ichi. The former is the flamboyant, unconventional, sado-masochistic yakuza hell bent on finding out what happened to his boss, Ando. The latter is the quiet, shy and timid weakling who dons a superhero getup to exact revenge. There are a whole host of side characters with a whole host of side stories.
Kakihara wonders which corpse would best accessorize his trenchcoat.
As the film progresses, we learn that Kakihara isn’t that loyal to his boss but rather, he desires the pain that only Ando inflicted well. In the meantime, he gets by by beating people up in his path and torturing them in order to find out where the source of his pain/pleasure had gone to. One notable scene had Susumu Terajima hanging on a series of meathooks with only the skin on his back holding him up against gravity. The poor guy later returns mummified but still alive in a darkly comical fashion. Kakihara refuses to believe that Ando is dead, that is until he realises that Ichi might actually surpass him and possibly bring him greater excitement instead.
One person Kakihara gets a helping hand from, is Karen, played by Singapore’s very own Paulyn Sun who also goes by the curious Alien Sun, on account of the size of her head. Two thumbs up for some SG style schoolground humor. She is the one sore thumb, speaking her lines in a mix of Cantonese, Japanese and distinctly Singaporean English. Who’da thought that you’d find a Singaporean in a much heralded Japanese gore flick? Anyway, she is truly horrendous in her role, whether on purpose or otherwise, it didn’t matter because I had my best laughs at her expense during her climactic death scene which has her shrieking in absurdity, blood spurting from her neck. SG represent.
But I digress. Ichi is supposed to be the main draw and he is, as his character is the perviest of them all. He only ever gets a hard on from watching acts of violence. Ejaculating into a potted plant as he watches Ando beat up a prostitute. Ando spots him and gets mad of course, smacking Ichi around until the crybaby reaches maximum stress point, going from Jekyll to Hyde and slicing Ando in half with a well aimed downward kick. Ichi just so happens to be dressed in a ridiculous super hero kinda getup with a freaking pop out blade attached to his heels. The beat up prostitute thanks Ichi but that becomes her undoing as he then gets convinced he’s supposed to take over from Ando. The poor girl’s resignation to her fate is summed up by her facial expression as she mutters a thank you before her blood gets all over the apartment.
The trail of blood continues extensively and eventually, Ichi and Kakihara get into a final encounter and the story reaches a resolution of sorts.
Some people actually think this film actually contains some kind of diatribe about the degradation of man or some sort of spiel relating to how human violence is unrelenting or some such. I have no fucking idea what they were watching. What I saw was a film Tarantino would worship, only its completely unpretentious. It is what it is, simply a violent yakuza flick, nothing more nothing less. You can sensibly talk endlessly about the deeper meanings within but I find none there and feel pretty certain Miike or even Hideo Yamamoto, who wrote the manga that was the source for the film, ever had any such intensions. Its vulgar, disturbing, stomach churning and perverse. Its a Japanese gore flick like how Japanese gore flicks should be.
Incidentally, I also caught Ichi 1, the prequel to Ichi The Killer. Helmed in ultra low budget handheld camera style by Miike’s assistant, Masato Tanno, Ichi 1 traces how the pervy Ichi became a killer. Apparently, he just always got a hard on watching acts of violence, only being able to ejaculate when he was able to commit the same acts of violence afterward. Also, I think its his semen that’s supposed to be in the opening title sequence to “Killer”. Ew.
