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In Between

Fatty Bao

After an hour of closely watching wise, and smiling bartenders mix drinks, I have decided that I want to be a barmaid. It looks like a fun thing to do. Or maybe I was too much in love with the world and its people and myself this afternoon when I dined at Fatty Bao. I had been stalking their menu for weeks now, eyeing with savage desire, pictures of their ‘Grilled sea food ramen soup with a hundred odd things in it’ and prawn tempura and sushi like objects. So we got there around 1:45 and were seated by the bar with its tall bar stools. I have never had real food by the bar but have always wanted to. Maggi didn’t care much for these tall stools and spent most of the time sulking, but now and then he would see food and cheer up. 

So after discussing my professional prospects as a barmaid with an unimpressed and hungry Maggi, I began the whole business of fine dining with a glass of ‘Fatty sour’ which is whiskey, raspberry, egg whites and a slice of orange. I watched with delight and mild horror as I saw the bartender break the egg, collect the yolk in the shell and discard it effortlessly after having procured the whites. The drink was sweet and that’s all I can really remember now. 

Next up in line were the California crab meat rolls, the shrimp and pork Hargaos and the beef bao. I loved the first two, not just because I’m a lousy seafood fan, but also because they were easy to eat. We repeated another round of each of these things, except with various other dead animals this time. Two Fatty Sours and three life changing decisions later I was attacking the Via Malaysian sea food Ramen which had its moments but only now and then. It wasn’t as exciting as its preamble of starters. What remains on my palate now after 6 hours is the faint memory of the sushi’s cousin – The Spicy Tuna Tartare and traces of Fatty sour. 

I have been Fatty Bao-ed and cannot wait to go there again. The whole place has a modern sea deck-y look which I liked very much. Plus really cute bartenders. They will take your orders nicely and politely pretend to not notice if they catch you drooling or staring at them. 

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In Between

E – Egg

Some things just snap me out of the lousiest possible moods. On days that I wake up early and write 500 words, for instance, nothing goes wrong. Even if things do go wrong, I don’t notice it. Even if I do notice it, I am rarely worried because I am happier on days that I can write. And then there are the occasional postmortem sessions that I conduct on my blog that leave me dry and suicidal.

The Egg is another thing that comes close to snapping me out my any lousy mood. I mean all kinds of egg here. Boiled, poached, scrambled, omelette, sunny side up. So long as the yellow is in the egg, I love consuming all manner of eggs. I am convinced that without the yellow,bulky, thick, gooey mixture of the yolk in my mouth, life would be very very dull. Also cruel.

These strong feelings that I have for the yolk don’t all have to do with the taste. I am sure that if the yolk was blue or orange, instead of yellow, it wouldn’t taste like the egg, much less look like it. The yolk and its yellowness are pleasures dipped with guilt. Well, guilt because, you know, cholesterol and all. But what pleasure is fun without a little bit of guilt here and there?

Picture a cold Sunday morning. And the faint smell of egg being cooked with coconut oil and curry leaves wafting into your nose and teasing your nostrils. I can only picture that one scene from Tom and Jerry when Jerry is magically being flown towards the cheese by a string of the cheese smell. I think Tom and Jerry and Popeye show are the only shows in the world that realise the importance of smells. No wonder they give ‘smell’ a whole new visible form. It has color, texture and is able to lift people off their existence. Even cookery shows don’t do that.

I am no food enthusiast but I am all up for adding coconut oil in everything that I eat, drink and rub. A cousin once taught me to fry eggs in coconut oil and a bunch of curry leaves and I feel indebted to her. It’s the best smell in the world. Also the best cure in the world.

Without the yolk, the egg can pretty much go to hell. What’s an egg without its yolk? The vegetarians should get some sex and relax. Don’t tell me the combination of white and yellow wasn’t meant to be eaten. Most of the time, I ignore the whites because too much reaction is already happening, what with the yolk bursting into buttery little balls in my mouth. But there are many things you could do with an egg before eating it. Like watching the little volcano of yellow explode when you poke the sunny side up with a spoon or a finger. Watch it as the liquid flows out of its cave and melts on the white. Collect a dollop on your finger and suck on it. The aftermath of the its taste will be strong enough to make you cook another egg.