What gets me through

Work has been bordering on the insane lately. It is shaping up to be a bad year for my department in particular, and we seem to spend every day firefighting as they call it, unable to plan or to improve - only to react. It has gotten to a point where sleep has become somewhat difficult to fall into. I have taken the opportunity to imbibe a little, just enough to help me fall asleep, and so far my little nightcaps have been quite effective. More on that later (am not turning alchoholic anytime soon :)). Other than that, here are a couple of things that have been brightening my dreary work days:

1) Cheerful new loafers that I have been searching for, like, forever. I finally found a pair I liked, that fit me well, at Pedro's.

2) Gunmetal grey nails, just to shake things up a little and make me feel ever so slightly rebellious.

3) My trusty toy in its rugged, no-nonsense cover. No Kate Spade or Kath Kidston for me, please.

4) These crystal bracelets. Every Christmas, My 80 year old grand-aunt gifts me one shiny strand. I wear these and I remember her, and subsequently my extended family. My grand-aunt sometimes has difficulty figuring out whose house she's sitting in, but somehow never fails to remember gifting me with these. Suffice to say, they are precious.

Atonement, Fall of Giants and other bits of the weekend

Lots of italics coming up, it's one of those posts.

~ Oh my, Atonement is positively gut-wrenching. My heart is broken, I tell you. And taken. By James McAvoy, who has swept me off my feet as "the young man who crossed the surrey in his best suit, swaggering with the promise of life" and lost it all - his bright bright future and his one true love at the throw of the dice, or rather the lying words of a naive young girl. Those electric blue eyes. That preppy short hair. The very upright-ness of Bobby Turner, his character - in his determination, as he wrote in his letter, to "live without shame", his lilting French, the way he walks with his back so straight, so upright. Swoon.


~ I seem to be drawing multiple parallelisms between the movie and Ken Follet's Fall of Giants, which I am currently chest-deep into. They make me reflect on the same things. How war changes everything. The fruitlessness of it all and the despairs - families and lovers torn apart, heartbreaking letters to and from the front lines, and of course, the terrible death of innocents. And the how their characters conduct themselves - on the surface, quintessentially British eloquence and conservatism, almost bordering on shyness. But you have to take a second look - into their (often blue and piercing) eyes, read into the bow of the head, the hand placed on another's. All contradictory to the searing passion behind closed doors (or in Atonement's case, it was cracked open). In my head, one of the book's protagonists (ahh a German, ironically) is Mr. McAvoy, tortured good looks and all.

~ Listening to Matchbox 20, especially this song on the iPhone. I think of my two brothers. Despite me being five and eight years older than them, we somehow have to come the same conclusions on a few very important things in life. For example, that Matchbox 20 is THE best band ever. That mankind has yet to produce a movie as awesome as The Lord of The Rings. All three of us have read the book, more than once. Oh, and the music. Sure, my brothers shake their heads at my fondness for haunting, wintry, almost new-ageish music with lyrics that don't make much sense (Cases in point: these numbers) and they're almost embarassed about my fondness for Taylor Swift. Dom's taste also runs questionable at times (erm, "Barbra Streisand" by DuckSauce, anyone?). But one day we just broke out Bright Lights together, trying our very best to twang the lines "Baby, Baby, Baby..........Maybe, maybe, maybe..." the way Rob Thomas does (and, I suspect, not being very successful) so you can understand why listening to this makes me all smiley inside.

~ My adorable tea sub that I ordered when in London. Works like a charm, looks like it belongs in a cartoon. Yesterday was a particularly stressful day at work. Couple that with the insomnia I had been experiencing the past two nights, and by yesterday evening my head felt like it was about to explode, among other symptoms. Before I went to bed I filled my submarine with green tea leaves (from Thailand) and brewed the tea using my new super cute glass. I breathed in the grassy scent and let the hot steam rise to my face. I took deep breaths. I sipped my brew, lightly sweetened with honey. I smiled at the sight of the fat yellow sub, and of course as the sight of my fat yellow (orange) cat bounding around the bed. And I really could feel myself feeling better.

I know, I seem to be living and dreaming anywhere else but here or in the moment. These are all I have now.

A Multi-Family Effort

When (ex)housemate moved out, she took her TV with her. We were debating whether to spend on an LCD TV or a cheaper, less-potential-for-break-ins CRT one.

Then it hit me that dad in Penang actually had an extra two sets of CRT TVs, thanks to his constant quest for the best in home entertainment and much to our chagrin. So we decided to take the smaller one.

We thought we were brilliant. So many relatives from KL were driving down to Penang and back, so there were plenty of cars to tumpang.

So the TV made its journey like this:

In Penang:-
- Mum and Dad picks the TV up from Grandma's house, where Dad put it since our house had no space and her own TV rosak.
- drive to Cousin K's house the night before she was supposed to drive down to KL. She can't lift the TV by herself, so the plan was to just place it in her car the night before
- Turns out Cousin K wasn't leaving till the next next morning and the TV wouldn't fit into her car boot, so Dad had to carry the TV home
- Drive down again and carry the TV again to Cousin K's house
- Cousin K drives down from Penang to KL with the TV in her back seat- AK and I were supposed to meet her in Subang, but the heavy rain and another overlapping appointment made us detour to Kelana Jaya - poor cousin, after waking up at 5 in the morning and driving for 6 hours was keeping her patience

In KL:-
- The box Ak's mum found was too big for the TV
- Then began the 3-hour marathon cut, trim, refit and tape the box sections to fit the TV better. AK's mum and Aunt chipped in
- The box is unable to fit into AK's family car, so we call a minivan to pick us up
- Thank goodness, not much drama at the airport, thanks to AK's Enrich Gold membership

In Miri;-
The box won't fit into the taxi at first. It takes 3 other taxi drives to fit it into the taxi, and a ten-ringgit tip to manage it.

So, thanks to our wonderful families, we now got a free TV in Miri. Tons of muscle power, craftsmanship and experts fitting it into the Proton Iswara :)

Me and My Bros

I think the last time three of us took a photo together was when we stayed at the Parkroyal, Daniel was barely five and both of them were wearing Kok0-Nut Club flourescent yellow pouches and green sunglasses....and both of my brothers were actually cute, and their sister aka me was a chubby primary schooler.

So last week Mum in all her wisdom insisted that we take a photo together, and here we are with her. That's my grandma in the background, along with my auntie's legs :)

As you can see no one in their right mind would call us cute and chubby anymore.

This one's for the Facebook page!

This is Me; My Heritage and I

I have always been (a little) proud.

My mum, Madeleine (no Chinese name) is Eurasian-Chinese. Or Chinese-Eurasian, if you're particular about the dads coming first.

My beloved Grandpa was Hakka who spoke English to his nine children. Probably because my Grandma spoke no Chinese. Come to think of it, I, who spent years of my childhood (from the time I could walk to the age of fifteen) living with my grandparents, can't even tell to this day whether Grandpa spoke anything other than English.

My Grandma is Eurasian, I suspect of Portuguese descent. My only clue of this? She cooks (cooked - she's chair-bound now) some mean Devil curry and we (my mum, Auntie and I) bake pineapple tarts and sugee cake for Christmas. Grandma has a really cool surname too - Jalle.

Growing up my mum was the major influence in my life. I was taught to be, for lack a way of saying it better, almost Anti-Chinese. We watched the Cosby Show, progressed to Friends and shouted the answers to Wheel of Fortune and A-Million-Dollar-Chance-of-A-Lifetime. We spoke exclusively English at home, and thought that was normal. My brothers and I couldn't even order food in Chinese (Hokkien) until much, much later in life. Daniel was sent to a Chinse medium primary school but hated it. It was almost as if he knew it wasn't for him even though he was seven, or twelve. When mum wanted him to go to similar high school he went ballistic and cried every day (and I mean every day) until he got into St Xavier's, where he thrives now.

Thanks to mum, we love Christmas more than Chinese New Year because, well, she did.

Somehow, we were programmed to bring out the tree and buy presents for each other. To eat turkey, sambal and sugee cake. To sing the Golden Oldies (actually that's more Pa than Mum), and to watch all the American sitcoms. To hate steamed white chicken and to be snooty to people who didn't speak English as well as we did (ok, that was mostly me, and I had some peer influence there no doubt).

I can truthfully say that I only appreciated, accepted my Chinese heritage when I was in University. That was when I was the only Chinese out of 20 who spoke none. That's when I learnt to order food in Mandarin. That was where I realized that there were some Malaysians who spoke no English almost their entire life.

I dabbled, wet my toes in the Chinese- gang for a while, mostly because they were my coursemates. But I soon found some people who were more like me and they have been my closest friends, and still are. But I learnt - and changed quite a bit. I now look forward to good Dim Sum, roast crackled pork when I never accepted as a child. I would rather have chocolate cookies and chicken pies.

Why am I writing this? Because I am wondering about my own descendants. What sort of heritage to I pass down? What kind of memories shall I create? How do I want to be remembered?

It's the nostalgia speaking, excuse me. But one word comes to mind though, whatever it may be - delicously.

Just do it

It was terribly tiring.

After 8 hours, I was back in Penang.

Today I attended my Auntie CC's funeral (cremation).

And her sister thanked me for coming.

I almost didn't make it out of pure self-centric selfishness.

But I'm glad - I did the right thing.

This time.

Of Grandpa Chin, Devil Curry and Jam Tarts

I remember the periuk belanga, made from an orangey-clay substance, this squat little pot with a slim neck and widening out later; simmering with beef rendang, devil chicken curry. I remember the ladle that we used - it was made with a coconut shell tied with bamboo string to a wooden handle.

I remember Grandpa cooking devil curry again and again and again cos' Rachel, my cousin, told him that she loved it.

I remember "placing" our orders for fish and chips (RM4), chicken chop (also RM4), char koay teow (no tauge, no chilli for Rachel, everything in for Debbie).

I remember telling grandma I wanted dry instant noodles for dinner.

I remember mum saying that grandpa was a way better cook than grandma. I remember him making those stuffed sotong rings - he's mince pork and stuff it into sliced squid rings, and steam them. Mum was so awed by this presentation, she still talks of it sometimes (think I was about eight years old then).

I remember, months before Christmas, Grandpa would be drying out the sugee flour, the cake flour, the almonds, for making the sugee cake. This cake had (still has, actually) the reputation of being not only expensive (10 egg yolks, 2 lbs butter), but it was our Eurasion tradition to bake and distribute this.

I remember helping to roll out pineapple jam tarts, taking turns with my cousins to beat egg whites till stiff, complaining all the way about how those darn clear liquid only had a few miserable bubbles in it (Egg yolks for the sugee cake, egg whites for the chiffon cake). Of course, we were tiny little things then.

I remember making all kinds of shapes with the tart dough - curry puff-like, rolls, etc. But none had as good a pastry-to-jam ratio of taste than the ones we cut out with the tart-cutter, then using a pastry roller, cut half-cm thick filligreed strips to make a criss-cross on the top of the jam. Burning fingers and tongues as we fought to taste our work fresh out of the oven.

Ah, the oven. It was actually an ovenette - a round electrical gizmo with a cover (much like a giant soup pot - but electrically powered) but one couldn't control the temperature, and the glass top would crack if anyone splashed even the tiniest bit of water on it.

And everything was done by hand. Stirring the pineapple jam for hours, standing by the stove. Scrubbing down the pot later.

Hand-beating 10 egg whites till stiff.

In the pestle and mortar, grinding down shallots and chillies for sambal tumis (did I tell you that my mum's family makes the BEST, and I mean the BEST, sambal tumis in the entire universe - I have yet to try one as good. Thank goodness all the maids have learnt to do this so this tradition lives on still).


Which reminds me - Grandma, I would like to inherit those cooking stuff - the mixing bowl, belanga, pestle and mortar.

Heirloom Sugee Cake (Christmas Special)

This is not a cake for the faint of heart, or with fear of fat.

1 pound of butter.
+
.....10 egg yolks.
+
.........Brandy.
+
..............Almonds (OK, healthy fat but still fat, ok??)



Introducing the star of every Christmas preparation in our humble home - the Eurasian Sugee Cake. No Christmas is complete without baking a couple of trays of sugee cake, with Jim Reeves crooning classic carols in the background.

Distinctive in its texture - grainy and crumbly, thanks to the semolina (or sugee flour) used.






Brandy is added to help preserve the cake and give a nice aroma, I think. The old recipe calls for 1 tablespoon of brandy, but I normally add one or two more - giving the baked cake a really really strong (and pleasant, not drunken) fragrance.


I also like to soak the diced golden raisins in some brandy for a day or so before adding them to the cake - the raisins will absorb the alchohol and plump up, and remain plump and juicy even after being baked.


Almonds - we used to painstakingly hand-cut them into eighths, but this Christmas, out of exhaustion, Mum whizzed them in her processor (they weren't completely ground up) and we tipped them into the batter and baked, hoping for the best. Well, surprise, surprise. Some things can be better NOT done by hand. The cake ended up being lighter and with a much nicer flavour - I can't think of a better way to describe the flavour - almondy? But it sure was yummy :)


My grandparents used to bake this cake before us. Weeks beforehand, they'd put out their flour, sugee and almonds out in the sun to "dry". We'd help to hand-beat the eggs and sugar, and fold in the rest - all by hand and bake the cake in an ovenette, a dangerous contraption that looks like a giant round Tupperware. We couldn't control the temperature of the thing, and woe betide us if someone accidentally got water drops on the glass lid - it would crack immediately.




Thankfully today Mum has simplified the recipe (with help from a family friend) and now it's one of our favourite things to make - and goes like, well, hot cakes (pun fully intentional) in our house.



So here goes:


Mum's Simplified Sugee Cake
Mum's recipe in in imperial units, I have converted them to 3 decimal points in SI units :) - it's the engineer in me


10.5 oz sugee (298.935 grams)
10.5 oz castor sugar (see above)
3 oz self raising flour (85.41 grams)
1 lb (455.22 grams) butter - we use Golden Churn
3 whole eggs + 7 egg yolks (equals 10 yolks and 3 whites)
4 oz almonds (113.88 g) - we normally use more, whiz them in the processor for 1-2 seconds, pls don't strive for grains size uniformity here
2 tsp vanilla essence
2-3 tbsp brandy
2-3 tbsp golden raisins, dice into smaller pieces and soak them in 1-2 tbsp brandy for about a day before using them


Cream eggs and sugar until pale, creamy and light




The way I see it, it is important that the mixture is aerated and light - the cake already has so much butter and yolks (aka fat), the only rising agents it has are in the measly amount of self raising flour - it needs all the help it can get in the "lightening" department

Add the butter and cream again until incorporated.



Now's the time to ditch the electric mixer and roll up the sleeves.

Fold in the sugee, flour, vanilla+brandy, raising, almonds - in that order.


Fold till everything is incorporated and well distributed.
Tip the batter into your cake tin - we normally line ours with foil for easy cleanup later.
Bake in a preheated oven (160 degC) for about 50 mins - 1 hour or until your cake tester comes out clean.
If the top and edges are starting to brown a little too much but the insides are not yet fully cooked, cover the vulnerable areas with foil to avoid them overburning.


Trick shared by mum's friend - the batter is usually so thick that it's pretty tough evening out the lumps and bumps in the tin.


What Mum does - and it TOTALLY works - is drop the tray a couple of times onto a bunch of newspapers - voila, evenly distributed batter!

Gravity helps make a prettier cake

For reasons already mentioned, this cake is best consumed in small pieces.

Merry Christmas! (yeah I'm aware of the date but just typing this puts me in the mood and it's not yet the Twelfth Night, so there!)

So We Celebrated (Photo Purge)

Yes, I realise I'm a bit late with this post.

Hope everyone had as Happy and Blessed a Christmas as we did.

Brother Grump#2's ingenious Christmas treetop decoration

- to ensure that the heavy ornament did not cause the sparse treetop to bend over,

he suspended it on the overhead beam

Mum's adorable stuffed Gingerbread Man

Santa overseeing the Holy Birth. It's supposed to be a lightbulb to reflect off the holographic layer but Mum decided that it should be Santa instead :)

Brother's got some skill- nice eh?

Trying to get our cheapo tree lights to work without blacking out the house

Our beautiful tree

And some more scenes of KL in the Christmas mood....

The Curve

Pavillion KL

This post is dedicated to my Mum, Christmas-aholic Nonstop Dynamo who worked so hard this year (as she does every year) to ensure that everything is extra special during the festive season.

Christmas would not be Christmas without the last minute frenzied baking, late night wrapping of gifts in Metrojaya and Watson's wrapping paper, Jim Reeves' Carols playing in the house, ultra expensive Turkey with stuffing and no, not cranberry sauce but sambal tumis, and definitely not Christmas without our homemade Eurasian-heritage sugee cake (to be posted soon)

In the words of Tiny Tim (A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens):

God Bless Us, Every One.