The Food Odyssey

I love food. My friend Amy loves food. Which is why it isn’t unusual for me to write about food… again. And certainly, not the last. I was flipping through the Melbourne magazine last night, pondering about my future and how bored I was with what I was doing. And then I remembered my recent trip to New York City. It was a particular beautiful Sunday, we spent the day at flea markets, walking up and down Broadway. We finally ended up back at San’s place in Chinatown. Tucked away round the corner of her street, on Pell Street, was perhaps the best kept eating secret in New York City (or at least in Chinatown). It was a restaurant called Joe Shanghai, apparently serving the best soup dumplings - little doughy beggars’ purses filled with pork or crab meat plus soup (the soup is inside the dumplings).

I remember waiting outside the restaurant that evening, after having put our names down for a table. There was already a queue forming when we arrived, and there were no signs of stopping. When the manager of the restaurant (a small, chinese/American lady) yelled “Table 22!!” the three of us yelled in unison and with gusto “Yes!!!” – the lady looked shocked and retorted “Just checking”. With everyone staring us, we burst out laughing. Ahh… it was such a good day – filled with laughter, new experiences. The weather was balmy and we were hungry for special dumplings we had never tasted.

The thing I realised whilst in Ne w York was that San also loved to eat. I mean, I always knew she loved to eat, but she actually does know the good hiding spots, which, if I didn’t have her there, would not know about. The other thing I realised whilst in New York was that the food I most enjoyed eating and that I remembered most was with the people I was sharing it with - from my youth, coming home from school and eating my mum’s home cooking, anything from fried rice, yee mee (dried egg noodles with egg sauce), to plain old steam eggs with rice. So here is my tribute thus far, to all the food and people that have influenced me to this date.

Firstly, to my sister who is a great cook herself, not just in skills, but also in her attentiveness to detail, her passion and most of all, her enthusiasm. She is my walking food dictionary and I always know she has an answer for me. It is only in recent years I realise that a lot of things she’s told me when I was younger made a lot of sense. Either that or I am extremely slow. Maybe a bit of both :) Also to all the restaurants she & Marky took me to, not afraid that I might have embarrassed them. The Provincial Hotel (in Fitzroy) was the one place I was in awe with for many of my university years. Eating éclairs at Brunetti’s the first time I came to Melbourne in 1996 – it was like cake, only with very little pastry and a lot of cream. YUM!!

The discovery of Jamie Oliver really got the ball rolling for me though. There were several years of Jamie fever around Melbourne, and especially among my friends. My mindset before was that cooking was all about hard work, and Jamie Oliver made it look sexy and very, very easy! Plus the fact that Carrie bought me his cookbook (so that I could cook for her!) for my 21st, I haven’t looked back since.

Which brings me to my next person – Carrie. For helping me discover that potatoes were yummy done in whatever way (steamed, baked, fried) but also made you extremely fat!! Wintermelon soups, red bean soups, Carrie was all for soups. I used to explain to her that nothing compared to my mum’s soup, but it didn’t stop her. She constantly told me it was good for my skin etc. etc. etc. Kim for discovering Yu-U, Honky-tonks and all the laneway holes and for teaching me that eating could be done stylishly. Amanda for all her Boxhill stories, and that amazing fish contraption (a claw-like tripod that removes the fish from the steamer, whole!). That is so cool! Funny the things I remember.

Amy for all the best coffees I’ve ever drunk; in style, in boredom, in contemplation, in periods of stress. The crab bisque at Tiamo 2 (salivating Homer Simpson style), and all her foodie adventures which I read with intense fascination. Which brings me to my beloved – when I met him, he had already eaten and drunk at half the places in Melbourne (present and past) and various other continents. But his continuing search for great food/wine and passionate people hasn’t stopped. It could also be the bottomless pit he has for a stomach, but that’s something different altogether! With him, I really learnt how to relish the beauty of food (and beer, and wine). Perhaps because he has one thing in common with all the people I’ve mentioned so far, he’s got enthusiasm, a lot of it! He will eat anything put in front of him once, before deciding it isn’t his ‘cup of tea’. There is such joy on his face when he eats chicken feet, or foie gras, or curry laksa, or the instant noodle (Maggi mee) I cook for him on our tired nights. Perhaps that is why I veered towards him eventually. It was my stomach leading the way.

So there they are, for the moment. I’m all typed-out, and funnily enough, slightly peckish. I think there is still a slice of swiss roll in the kitchen.

The piece we call marriage...

http://whoshouldimarry.blogspot.com

My friend Melissa (surprise! surprise!) wrote the above, and Mel, I just have to say “I hear you”! It is such a juicy topic (and much as many girls/women/friends) hate to admit it, have had a huge discussion about it once/twice/thrice in all their mid-20-something years.

First of all, I applaud Mel’s mum for asking her the “hard” question. Yes, the question of marriage in the 21st century has become the ‘sex’ taboo of the previous century. Everyone poo-poos about it, and usually it’s the three schools of thoughts. Those who believe in it, those who don’t, and those who think they don’t. I am all three. I would also like to add that my mother doesn’t know how to operate a computer, so thank god for that! She will never read this piece I am about to write.

Being brought up to believe I can achieve/have anything I want in life (thanks ma & pa), I myself don’t believe that marriage is the institution of exclusivity, nor is it the institution that is the be-all and end-all of your life. Those who do believe a hundred per cent in marriage, please stop reading now. I do not mean to offend, but since it is my blog, you can choose to bugger off.

First of all, marriage is a union of two great people who happen to decide (for the moment) they want to be together for possibly the rest of their lives. What happens if seventeen years (or seventeen months) down the track, you realised you’ve made a real boo-boo? Get divorced, I hear some people say! If I don’t believe so much in marriage, I definitely don’t believe in divorce. It’s a cop-out, an easy solution, an option. So you see, I have painted myself into a corner. It’s a catch-26.

If I had to point a finger at the ultimate root of my dilemma, it is the ability to choose. Peers of our generation (plus/minus a couple) have the choice. And I am all for choice. Only not for myself. If I was to be married, I have to know that that is forever. But what is forever? A close friend once said to me in anger that “You never know how long forever is”. And I have never used that word to anybody since. I don’t intend to. And then there is the idea of “the man of your dreams”. You know what though… the dream is in your head. The person you sleep next to every night can be the dream, if you choose him/her to be. So, that’s one problem solved. I can hear the ones reading this now “Where did she get off being so cynical?”. The question you should be asking is “How does she know I’m thinking this?”. Actually, I don’t – just being a smart arse.

Truth is, I am hopeful! I am hopeful there is going to be a day when I wake up and realise that I love the man next to me enough to know I want to spend a lot of my life with him. And I have people in my life everyday to tell me that I will find that one day. Both of my sisters, different as night and day have wonderful husbands. One found hers early in her 20s (though she always thought she might never get married), the other rummaged for a bit, and found hers too. I am patiently waiting for my turn. The point is to stop looking! Because if you always look ahead, you always miss the great ones right in front of you.

I refuse to be told my biological clock will start ticking soon, that I am to be compared to a use-by tinned pineapple. I also refuse to be pigeon-holed by married women who look at the single ones and have the you-poor-thing-you-aren’t-married look. Whilst saying this, I also have many, many wonderful married friends (who are so sane, and so right!!! Which is so contradictory, considering where I’m coming from). I sound sooooo Sex and the City-esque (sorry!!!!). Having someone to share your life with is double the fun, but fun all by yourself is good fun too. And not to mention great friends. So don’t despair, my beautiful friends – the next time your mothers come up to you and harass you about getting married, tell them you can’t help it that you haven’t made up your mind yet.