An Exceptional Exception

As I went over to the counter to settle my bill, the Indian/Bangladeshi manning the cash register stopped me. "Sir, we have dessert waiting for you, sir, on the house," he said. "Please take your seat."

Confused, I returned to my place at the table. What gives, I thought. It couldn't have been the digicam. I'd ordered a starter-portion oxtail soup and a smoky ranch steak, which I snapped photos of before tucking in. Normally I don't mind dessert, but it was late and I was full.

G*d, I hope he doesn't think I'm a member of the press or something.

My dessert arrived: half a poached peach in syrup topped with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream, crowned with a single mint leaf. Not a bad dish, really. It's been months since I ate there and the food is still okay.

The air cleared when I finally settled my tab. "Are you with GZK?" the Indian/Bangladeshi asked. I'm really sorry, but I don't know exactly who he was. And it's probably rude to ask.

"No," I said, feeling bad. I told him who I was working for now; no point having a free dessert I didn't deserve. I used to work with them - sort of - but not anymore.

The man at the counter shrugged. "Ah well, we don't have any arrangements with them, maybe soon." What he said next surprised me. "Didn't I give you one of these cards before?"

He, in fact, did. That was months ago, too. Get one stamp for each order of soup; drink X orders of soup and get one free. Too bad the card disappeared yonks ago. But his memory wasn't the only surprise he had in store.

"Never mind, I give you one more card," he said, and made two stamps on it. "One for the last time," he added.

Now, who was the whackjob who said Indians/Bangladeshis were nothing but trouble? When you meet an exceptional exception to the "rule", you just have to wonder.

Nobody Expects The Spanish Kama Sutra

Can the story of a fictional Casanova be used as a love manual? When the author's repertoire includes such books you have to wonder. There should be a disclaimer on each copy, something to the effect of, "Not a substitute for Valentine Day cards or bouquets"). Cards are much cheaper.

The title is a play on Monty Python's "Nobody Expects The Spanish Inquisition"; no, I didn't expect to read a Spanish Kama Sutra. Did anybody expect the Spanish to win Euro 2008?

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Stealing secrets

first published in The Star, 04 July 2008


Gone are the days when personal diaries were kept under lock and key. The delicious thrill of having your inner thoughts read by the masses are driving many towards blogging these days. Even Don Juan is getting into the act.

OK, so it's just Douglas Carlton Abrams, doing something akin to blogging. After co-authoring a few books on spirituality, love and sexuality, he tries his hand at narrative fiction, writing as Don Juan under the rather pedestrian title, The Lost Diary of Don Juan.

Kudos to Abrams for sneaking the handbook, How to Really, Really Love a Woman into this novel. Unfortunately, the package also includes How to Infuriate Said Woman's Parents, How to Tick Off Your Boss and How to Offend Fanatical, Uptight Clergymen – which I'm sure we all could do without.

Spain in the 16th century wasn't a very nice place. Plunder from the newly discovered American continent made the nation rich, but it brought about an increasingly venal, corrupt and "liberal" society. One of the results was Juan Tenorio.

Abandoned as an infant, Juan was raised in a monastery but ends up being a pickpocket and burglar in Sevilla. His "talents" soon catch the eye of the Marquis de la Mota, who trains him to steal secrets, and the hearts and virtues of women, especially those from his political rivals' households.

A slight deviation: Abrams' Don Juan goes on his rounds in a Zorro-like get-up, complete with a getaway vehicle, a carriage chauffeured by his loyal servant Cristóbal. I was half-expecting it to arrive at the Bat Cave on the next page, if not the next chapter. Fortunately, the campiness stops there.

At the height of his dubious career, Juan's patron nags him about writing a tell-all, intending to use it as blackmail material. Juan struggles with the request, knowing that he's expendable once it is completed – but he gets down to keeping one anyway. Even rogues need a hobby.

In Juan's point of view, he's no womaniser; he considers himself the balm of the lonely hearts of Sevilla's womenfolk. Of course, there is a very long queue of people who beg to differ, and pushing his way to the front is the Inquisitor Fray Ignacio de Estrada, who has pledged to rid the city of Juan at any cost.

In the face of these hazards is de la Mota's challenge: to steal the virtue of a chaste young noblewoman called Doña Ana. Juan accepts, and soon gets into the bad books of the woman's father. She proves to be a challenge for the suave, sweet-talking libertine, and eventually gets under his skin. Then, his boss shakes things up with his intention to marry Doña Ana.

Oh, the drama. What should Sevilla's notorious metrosexual do?

However, Abram's Don Juan is more than the stereotypical shallow, metrosexual narcissist. Juan is a loyal friend and faithful lover – the main reason for his (initial) reluctance to name names in his diary. He is also a good employer; in one chapter he even offers Cristóbal some advice on courtship. Towards the end, he reveals why he never laid one finger on the prostitutes in his best buddy's tavern.

You can see Abrams' application of his field of expertise everywhere – and that's the trouble with it. Hair-raising phrases like, "I sipped the moist nectar of her mouth as she opened her petals to me" abound, as well as his professions of "woe-is-me" and self-righteousness. There is also a totally unnecessary master-disciple scene, where terms like "Ultimate Skill" and "Supreme Pleasure" are bandied about (I am so glad kung fu was developed in the East).

To girlfriends and wives who think that The Lost Diary of Don Juan will help re-ignite that dying flame, do bear in mind that it's just a lit-fic novel. It's not a bad read, if you can stomach the cheesy parts so integral in such stories. Strange things happen when fiction is taken too seriously – remember The Da Vinci Code?

---

The Lost Diary of Don Juan

Douglas Carlton Abrams
Atria Books
307 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4165-4701-3

Bits From The Beebs

I opened up the BBC News web site and see this headline: Colombian rebels FARCed!

Gosh, it's been a while since the last-shock-to-the-system: Steve Irwin's untimely demise - but that was from Yahoo! News. Anyway, it's a great start to a crummy day. The rebels were nothing more than thugs, no better than the people they sought to overthrow. If the Colombian government is smart, they'd capitalise on the political goodwill generated by this rescue - while continuing to keep the now-free Betancourt safe.

Another tasty bit is about China's latest embarrassment: algae off the shores of Qingdao. Thanks to possible factors like pollution, the seaside has never been more "qing".

But chalk it up to Chinese politburo PR to deliver this gem of a whitewash.

...China, embarrassed by the most vivid proof yet of its environmental problems, says the algae is a natural occurrence, and blames the sea for being too salty, the sun for being too hot.

At a news conference earlier in the day one official suggested that algae could be good for you.

"The Japanese eat it," she said.

— Unnamed Chinese official kills two birds
with one stone (emphases mine)

Even if they do eat algae, I'm sure the Japanese have better sense in selecting which ones are safe, despite their fetish for neurotoxic seafood.

Why don't you, Madam Chinese Government Mouthpiece, pick up a strand of good green Qingdao algae with a pair of chopsticks, swirl it around a dish of soy sauce and sesame oil and take a deep hearty slurp, and let us know how it goes?

If you're still alive after a week, you just found a solution to your tangled verdant mess. The Beijing Olympics, if you didn't know already, kicks off next month. The bogged-down volunteers can just eat the mess away. You don't need the Japs for that, do you?

Blowing In The Wind

My first piece for Off The Edge, in the July 2008 issue. Though not one of my best ones, I felt that "firsts" should have a place in any portfolio.

"Blowing in the wind", Off The Edge, July 2008

It was potentially hackle-raising, because it had to be a "balanced" piece on corporate social responsibility (CSR) programmes, with some focus on HSBC. Needless to say, I found a whole lot more about the subject than was needed for the piece. It was never our intention to question the motives in any firm's adoption of CSR.

Sincere apologies for any offence caused by this article.

Unseasoned Joy

I didn't write anymore for Fried Chillies after this, because my new job began to take its toll, stress-wise. The warnings I got, including one from the Fried Chillies editor, were completely ignored.

---

Joy Cafe

This unassuming cafe tries to keep everything healthy. And guess what? It takes nothing away from the taste, proving that you need not sacrifice taste for the sake of health.

first published in Fried Chillies, 30 June 2008


"No salt?!"

My jaw hit the table with a thud.

"Not a grain," says Mr. Dennis Ng, of Joy Café, a place he runs with his wife, Joyce. "People from far away as Subang, Damansara, KL, Shah Alam all travel here for the food." The passion isn't just in their cooking; it's also in its preparation and serving. Their big bowls aren't for the portions, or for show - it's to prevent the waiters' thumbs from dipping into the food. Nor do the cooks grab noodles with their bare hands - each serving-sized portion is wrapped in plastic, to be used only when needed. And they're organic noodles.

This was only my second time in Joy Café. During the first time I had their toast bread and chicken curry. They also have it served with kaya and butter which you have to spread it on yourself. I also had the orange white coffee; it was my first encounter with the fruity variant of my favourite brew. The taste had me begging for more. Another interesting flavour is the blackcurrant white coffee - a full-bodied concoction with a blackcurrant taste.

The menu of the months-old café is packed with the usual fare kopitiam fare: nasi lemak, "special fried rice, laksa with the addition of their braised dishes and a few other items. They also have brewed Chinese tea, and at least one dessert for each day of the week: double-boiled lotus root, red bean, etc - all served in a green-painted environment that instills a Zen-like calm while you wait. You wouldn't need to go anywhere else for breakfast, lunch, tea, dinner and supper.

I took another look at my half-eaten bowl of lamb brisket. Nice, tender chunks of lamb brisket (what else?), swimming in delicious brown gravy with a bevy of ginger and water chestnut slices. The gamey smell that gave it character was subtle enough not to offend. Such a flavourful dish - and no salt was involved? That's like hearing "no, there's no MSG in our kway teow soup".

Lamb brisket isn’t the only dish in this category – there’s also beef brisket, which can either be served with rice or noodles. I opted for the rice version. My brisket came in a separate bowl; on the plate, the mound of rice is dotted with black sesame seeds at the top, accompanied by a single fried egg (sunny side up) and some stir-fried lettuce.

My makan buddy for the day meanwhile, found her fried rice intriguing. It looked absolutely packed with goodness: finely sliced spring onions, long beans, fried egg, bits of minced pork and preserved radish which brightened up an otherwise mundane dish. And not a single ear of corn, green pea or diced carrot anywhere.

Again, Mr Ng satisfied our curiosity. "The fried rice is made from freshly-cooked rice," he explained. "Overnight rice is not fragrant enough. The pork is braised for three hours in a stock made from over a dozen different herbs and spices, before it's minced and added to the rice during cooking." And yes, no additional salt is used in their braised dishes.

We looked at each other and shrugged. Isn't it the nature of proprietors to sing praises of their own food? Still, I'd rather let my food do the talking. I took a bite of a lamb brisket. It talked, alright - like Barack Obama. With the water-chestnut pieces, the meat and gravy was a hearty dish that went great with rice or noodles.

My friend’s fried rice was also telling her things as well, something to the tune of "Yes, we can! Yes, we can!" She gave me some. Not only was it flavourful, there was also texture. A welcome departure from the boring old frozen peas-carrots-corn variety.

"So how was it?" I asked her, actually doubting my tastebuds. Hailing from Ipoh, another great food capital, she would know better.

"Very good," she said, emphasising each word for effect.

Our vote was unanimous. Joy Café is a shoo-in - and we barely even scratched the surface.

---

Joy Café

540, Jalan Riang 11,
Happy Garden,
58200 Kuala Lumpur

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Flying High With Elmo, et al

After an absence of a few months, I returned to Seksan for a Readings session. There was my resignation, red tape at the old workplace, a two-week pseudo-sabbatical and the adjustment period after my job switch.

Yes. I'd been busy. I needed a break - and an excuse to take my digital camera out for a spin. It couldn't have happened at a better time. The June session featured a star-studded line-up which included ex-airliner captain Elmo Jayawardena (picture, right), Lydia Teh, Jacqueline-Ann Surin and Kam Raslan. Other surprises included the presence of Farish Noor, Eric Forbes of MPH Publishing and Shahril Nizam... .

I've read quite a few of Farish Noor's articles; his Egyptian travelogues were particularly intriguing. He had emerged from a heated exchange of words with a bunch of UMNO people, and he'll be on his way to Indonesia. What? The Indons will be voting soon?

There was supposed to be a book sale or something, but that never materialised. Pity. I did want an autographed copy of Shape of A Pocket (Surin wanted to talk about an MPH readings - wonder if it'll happen?). A lucky draw was held during the intermission, where books were given away. Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children was among the prizes, the so-called Best of Booker.

(I'd withhold judgement until I've read it, but I think it got BoB because it's Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie.)

The intermission was special because we had a live band. The boys of Dewangga Sakti put on a great mid-Readings performance, and an encore when the session concluded. Their CDs were also available for sale.

But it didn't exactly get off on a good start. The roar of buzzsaws and a shower of sawdust from the KL Municipal Council's tree-trimmers' work ruined the generally calm Bangsar atmosphere. Sharon tried in vain to get them to buzz off. Although I repeated Sharon's request in a less-civilised tone, they wouldn't budge. They even had the cojones to pose when I brought out the shooter.

I was so loud I surprised myself.

Anyway:

• The afternoon's Readings took off with Captain Elmo J. He'd written his novels between flights; nowadays he's training other pilots. He read an excerpt from his book, Sam's Story.
• Lydia Teh read a piece of fiction from a soon-to-be-released work - a departure from her usual brand of non-fiction.
• Jacqueline Ann-Surin read one of her spiked articles on the controversial topics of religion and Lina Joy from Shape of A Pocket.
• The author Shahriza Hussein wasn't feeling well, so his friend read an excerpt from his novel, Legacy. Before starting, however, he took some time to add a disclaimer: Legacy is "fiction".
• Clarissa Tan crossed the Causeway to be here. She took her time with her piece, while - curiously - doing some kind of shuffle. It was hard to focus for a clean shot. There's more good stuff being read this time around.
• Unfortunately, I couldn't get a single sharp shot of Kam Raslan on the mic with optical zoom; zooming affects the photos, apparently, Only the shots I took without zooming were relatively OK. Much hilarity ensued as Kam recounted a chapter in the Datuk's tales. It does sound funnier when he reads it.

Overall results from my digicam were mixed; light was a major factor, not to mention my unsteady palsied hands. Despite all the homework and research I've done, my sharpshooting attempts were thwarted by my coffee habit. Maybe I should have waited a while more, spent a bit more to get the Powershot A570IS or Lumix FS3 instead.

Never again shall I scorn optical image stabilisation features.

Going Green By Going "E"

An offer to sign up for electronic monthly statements came with my latest Citibank snail-mailed statement. "Go Green, Go Paperless". It's secure, fast, no late delivery worries, and most of all, signing up before 30 June gets you 888 Rewards points.

Hmm. Well, with the exception of the 888 Rewards points it does sort of appeal to me. I've had mail victimised by inept postmen, or drenched by the rain. And I can look it up in any place that has a computer and an internet connection. And I'll be saving trees. Mmm, how about a hug, tree?

And that's the problem right there.

Barring old Webzilla here at home or the PC at the office, there aren't a lot of times I can get my hands on a wired computer - which also applies to a lot of people. What about computer glitches? Like power outages, they have the predatory instinct to pounce when they're least expected.

The "Go Green" exhortation is also misleading. You need electricity to get connected, and electricity burns coal or gas. How much CO₂ will I be burning while checking my swanky, clean and earth-saving monthly e-statements?

Let's not forget that the PC and electronic hardware industry is a major polluter. Mercury, dioxins, plastics, you name it. The gold contacts on your RAM? You don't want to know how they pull the stuff out of the ground.

See? I can look at the bright side.

But the eternal question remains. Pollute or denude? Talk about a rock and a hard place. Maybe I should just cancel the card... .