A Bottle of Honey

Haven't we all been perplexed, crippled and thwarted by that cone-shaped bottle of honey? Yes, plain old honey. In a bottle with the pointed tip. That you can't keep in the fridge ( for fear of it solidifying),that you can't keep on a Malaysian kitchen table (for fear of ants), that you don't want to bother to let it sit in a bowl of water to outsmart those ants and that you don't want to bother to cover the tip with a piece of foil to outsmart other bothersome beings like impregnated flies. So what do we do?

Let me not tell you the things that I have done to get that honey out (after refrigerating it). I have soaked the bottle in warm/hot water until the honey, along with the bottle, liquified (which took forever), I have struggled with the feat of making the bottle stand upside down, on its tip, on its own, hands free, for at least fifteen minutes or, out of frustration, I have wrung the bottle and then asked to be resuscitated afterwards from the effort of it all, and sometimes, just sometimes, I begin to wonder if I was, after all, just a stupid cow.

However, after having had one of my sons go to the mini market to get a bottle of honey for the pancakes that I was making for them, he came home with a bottle of honey that I found, after some pain, to be worthy of some blogological dissertation..

It's not the honey that I'm going to tell you about though but the bottle. It was actually labeled upside down. My first thought was how could any respectable manufacturing company have labeled their bottles up side down only to have it exported and have them sit on the shelves all around the world? So silly. I smirked.

But I took a second look and then out of itchy hands (gatal tangan) I turned it the 'right way up'. At least, what seemed the right way up, that is with the label the right way up. When I had done that I found that there was no opening on the 'top'. So I sat there staring at the bottle's bottom but with the label the right way up all the way. Oh God! this calls for some serious use of brain power.

In the meantime I took some pictures thinking that I might have stumbled upon the opportunity to win fifty ringgit from Star for strange, amusing and incomprehensible situations. Plus an evil opportunity to put CAPILANO HONEY LIMITED to shame and out of business.

However, still determined and hopeful to put things right, I turned it 'upside down' again, that is, with the label the wrong way up, with the bottom end at the bottom and the capped end at the top. Then I did the unthinkable. I flipped the cap open and peered inside. I snapped off the little thingy that sealed the opening and scrutinized further.

Ah..... discovery of the century and science at its most useful stared back smack into my flabbergasted face.

The opening was covered with a translucent and concave shield with an X cut across it. That, my dear Watson, was why the bottle was 'upside down' or that 'right side up' was actually the 'wrong side up'.

That little concave screen, with the X cut across it, allowed you to keep it 'upside down' or the 'right side up' (frankly in this here discussion it doesn't matter so long everything is put in inverted commas) for the easy flow of honey when you squeeze the bottle but at the same time it prevents the honey from leaking out when you don't squeeze the bottle inspite of the pressure from the weight of the honey when the bottle is 'upside down'. Why?

Well, the cross does not activate and open up unless the bottle is squeezed (meaning when extra pressure is exerted) and because of its concave shape, or convex shape if you are inside the bottle, it does not give way under all that pressure and therefore remains closed and seals off the opening so long the bottle is not squeezed(that is when there is no extra pressure being exerted).

I rest my case.

However, being the visionary that I am, I have taken pictures of this here bottle of honey so that those of you out there, who are still in an ignoramus state of mind like I was some seconds ago, will not have to go through the puzzling pain, the obtuse scrutiny and whimsical wonderment that I had to go through.

You're welcome.

Preeta Samarasan - Evening is the Whole Day

Apparently point and shoot cameras need some amount of skill too. Here, there's an obvious lack of it.

This is not a food post but I thought it would be an interesting post anyway. It's not everyday that you get to meet a successful writer of international acclaim. This young lady is Preeta Samarasan. Her book Evening is the Whole Day is her first novel and a very successful one. I had attended the MPH Mid-Valley's monthly Lit Addict's Meet.

Unfortunately, I had gone there without reading her novel which I am sure must have disappointed her some. But I have a signed copy now and a good read tonight. My intention though of attending the discussion was not to talk about the book but rather to talk with her. I had a feeling that the gentleman next to me, whom I believe had arranged the meeting, was a little contemptuous that I had the cheek to attend the meet without reading the book beforehand. I sensed that he ticked me off a little, quite subtly. LOL

But really, I did read a synopsis of the book, we were not about to attend a lecture, nor about to sit for a quiz, so I did not think that we had to prepare ourselves like a bunch of school kids, apart from the fact that life gets in the way very often lately. I have read too some very good reviews of her book and that was enough to make me grab the opportunity to meet her apart from the fact that I was much more interested in the writer and the trials and tribulations that she may have experienced during the writing process.. (Okay, okay, having given all those excuses I have to admit that I did feel a little guilty anyway).

Preeta is a Malaysian now living in France with her equally young husband. She seemed a little nervous, but who wouldn't be, dealing with such success at such a young age. Someone asked her how she would like to be remembered and I recall Preeta being more than a little tickled, feeling perhaps the implication of 'agedness', if there is such a word, by such a question or perhaps just a little humbly embarrassed that she should be asked such. I can't recall her answer though. What I do remember was, her saying, "I'm not that old!" with laughter attached.

I did find out though that the novel had started out with just three characters (as in people not alphabets). That was in 1999 and at the time Preeta said that she had no idea where the story would be heading. She did not have an outline let alone any idea of how the story would end. Apparently she had started on the novel by writing in longhand and had never imagined that the completed novel would finally be written in reverse order. I haven't read the book but I will write a review once I have.

Her writing has been described as rich, quirky and colourful in prose of acrobatic grace. It is a novel of a "vibrant cast of characters" and "of a family struggling to deal with its past" during a time of the crazy uncertainty of a country coming to terms with itself. She writes of the strains and clashes in a country where the different races "vie for their positions in society". Fortunately she has not had any problem of censorship by the Malaysian censorship board because, as someone there was saying, "Malaysians don't read". Most favoured joke on Malaysians by Malaysians who do or think they do.

There were five of us sitting at the table. My son and I, Preeta, the gentleman next to me, and a young lady across from me until Preeta's husband came along and another lady most probably an MPH staff. It surprised me that it was such a small group. I was imagining that the whole book cafe would be used up for the event. I suppose Malaysians really don't read. But the rest of the large MPH store were quite thronged with people. So I'm quite confused to say the least.

Preeta says that she has a very good memory for the unnecessary things, like all the details of a conversation or the colour of someone's baggage perhaps but a bad memory for necessary ones like bills and appointments. Her husband confirmed her claim good-naturedly and lovingly. If this was a perfect world many of us, I am sure, would have had such a claim for ourselves confirmed good-naturedly too. Unfortunately, as mere mortals, we do not live in a perfect world as they do. Such is the world of writers. Successful ones I mean.

My son asked if she wrote for the money. No, that was never her motivation. But she's making some anyway. How convenient.

"Ooops now where did I put the car keys??!! Oh no!...the lights have gone off! Darn! I forgot to pay the electricity bill! Gosh.. I must get the pair of red heels that the young woman in the purple striped t-shirt with yellow hotpants was weraing at Friday's two months and three days ago!".

Hmm... come to think of it I must get that book completed too. Not that I need the money.

It was Ayamas black pepper chicken for dinner tonight. Yay no cooking! Thanks to Preeta.

Cook Bake and Blogger On.....

When I started out with this blog I didn't quite know where I would be heading. Today a little over a month later I still don't. Would it be cakes, cake art, everyday food, or what. So far I've had a couple of cakes, some everyday food, two cake arts, and a couple of or whats.

I have decided that this would definitely not be, by any means, a personal blog as in embarrassingly personal. I have secret stories not meant for human consumption :). So apart from being a so-so cook and an okay-I'm-a-pretty-good-baker and a self taught cake-arter, after ...(excuse me...let me check for a minute...ok I'm back)...twenty one posts, I've run out of steam. I'm in the typical ' I don't know what to cook!' state. I'm having cooker's block (silliness intended) like writers have writers block.

Normally when I'm not cooking for a blog I would just cook what I had cooked yesterday. Easy. Problem solved. And tomorrow I would probably cook what I had cooked the day before yesterday. But I'm cooking for a blog. I can't do that. What would people think?

I knew that having a food blog would be quite a challenge for me because each member in our family has different likes and dislikes. They each have their own brand of allergies, their own brand of food tolerance or intolerance, their own spice heat metering and so on and so forth. And in all those years that we have survived each other we have never come close to a truce.

So the repertoire of dishes that I churn out everyday where everybody can eat the same thing is very limited indeed. Sometimes I would end up cooking this for the children and that for my husband and when nobody is around I would cook something really, really hot and spicy and revel in the silence of my deserted home. But when the resident invaders strike I am conquered yet again. So most of the time I curtail myself to cooking the limited number of dishes that everyone can eat in peace and without fear of impending threats.

Problem : If I were to cook all kinds of different foods, for a lark, who would eat them? And would I have to cook, in addition to cooking for my blog, the 'usual' as opposed to the unusual? Wouldn't that mean that I am doing exactly what I had planned not to do ten years ago? Wouldn't that mean that I am inflicting upon myself the pain that I had planned to rid myself of some years ago when or if the children stopped being children? Wouldn't that mean that I would be digging a hole for myself that gets deeper and deeper as I blogger on?

Yes.

So.

So all that talk about cook bake and be merry cook bake and be merry cook bake and be merry (up there on the title header) was just, in truth, a phony line, invented by me to fill up that space by meaningless repetition. Not in the least related to my true calling. For I am, to all intents and purposes, a reluctant cook.

The way I see it cooking in the true sense of the word cannot possibly be merry unless one considers washing up as an immensely desirable past time like the total satisfaction of the subconscious one gets from ticking off one's to-do lists or finding immeasurable pleasure in finding the just-right sized tupperware for all those left overs. Some people do. Check this post out, A Dip, Blended and Bright Green on Carolyn's blog of Field to Feast. Unbelievable. Totally. And I don't get it.

I envy her I do.

Absolutely.

So, you are asking me now, why on earth am I blogging? Food blogging you mean.

Answer : I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps it is just something that I have to do. Like finding the just-right sized tupperware for all those leftovers or ticking off my to-do list. Or having to do all that washing up. Perhaps I'm finding and have found a way out of reality and have lost myself in blogger land. I have fallen in and gotten quite lost. Just like Alice. Perhaps too, like Alice, I'm in on a journey of self discovery, seeking order in the my own confusion. Or I think perhaps, like housework, it's just a matter of cook bake and blogger on cook bake and blogger on.......

But what ever it is, with or without blogging, it still is......What shall I cook tomorrow????????

The answer I suppose is in here somewhere..


Some horrible looking limes that have seen better days.



Three lemons meant for some lemonade that never got made.


Five potatoes that I boiled this morning and abandoned.



And half a block of butter left over from the banana chocolate chip cake from my previous post.

HELP.

Ready... Set... Go!

At last, at four o'clock this afternoon, I managed to pry myself out of the house and drop in at The Cake Connection.

The store has been occupying my mind since I heard about it a week ago. But I was completely mistaken about its location. So before I get sued or get carried off by the blog police I had better put things right.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Cupcake Art, The Cake Connection is located at Jaya One. But Jaya One is in actual fact not the newly renovated old Jaya Supermarket as I had thought simply because the Old Jaya Supermarket has not yet been renovated.

I went there first and saw to my dismay the old blue building looking dejected and forlorn. Absolutely in need of a renovation.

I asked around but no one seemed to have heard of Jaya One. But after a few twists and turns I laid eyes on Jaya One. Unfortunately that was not the end of my problem. It was merely problem number one.

Problem number two was finding the entrance to the, I dunno, AREA, I suppose. It wasn't a mall, it wasn't a row of shops, it wasn't a block of shops, it wasn't ...it just wasn't even the house that Jack built.

However, after a hunch, an insight and a touch of my female intuition I stepped out of the car in front of a flight of concrete steps leading to up a fluff of trees at the top that totally, almost totally, obscured whatever it obscured.

Before I attempted to walk up I looked at a guard seated quite comfortably on a chair at step number one.

Apprehensively, I approached him, fearing that I would be facing a language problem in case he might be a Myanmar who can't speak Malay or English while the only language I spoke was Malay and English. If so that would have been problem number three.

Thank God and to him that he understood me and told me that Kluang Station was at block D and waved his hand quite ambiguously.

Hmm.... Block D.... had I been a bird...I'd know where block D was right away. But from where I was coming from it could have been any which way and, by the way, there was nothing wrong with my sense of direction.

Being very enthusiastic about showing that I was lost I stopped and intruded into several conversations to ask for more directions to Kluang Station, although I wasn't actually going there.

I had heard that The Cake Connection was just above Kluang Station which was of course not a 'station' but a coffee shop modernized and chic.

Ah.. there it was...Kluang Station. I circled the place vulture-like, eyes sharpened to a glint, impatient and hawkish until the stairs leading to the first floor me could not find.

Ah.. the waiter boy... standing idly by, at the entrance, was just waiting to be of service. He curved his arm backwards to a flight of stairs, and me, me went up except that it wasn't a flight of stairs as me thought.

It was an entrance to a couple of lifts, one of them, lined with slightly punctured plywood.

When the doors to the lift opened I walked out, looked left, and it was like walking into a brick wall that just ran up to me. I almost bumped into the entrance to The Cake Connection.

After all the hassle and mazey detours I had been through arriving there was like getting a pie in my face.

I peered and rang the buzzer. Along came Sharmini ( please forgive me if I got your name wrong), very warm, friendly and welcoming. And so was her colleague Nancy.

I asked for some fondant embossers with pretty scroll-like designs so that I could blatantly copy, duplicate and plagiarize Zalita's cupcake art from South Africa but unfortunately they did not have any yet.

No matter, the place looked interesting and I was more than willing to idle between shelves.

They had loads of beautiful sugar paste flowers, in lilies, roses, daisies all beautifully crafted, bottles of vanilla extract, novelty cake tins and other cake art tools. A complete haven for cake art enthusiasts. They offered classes and warm, interested personnel. What more could one ask for. Check out The Cake Connection.

I picked a packet of...no not sea shells...of icing powder, went over to the counter and chatted with Sharmini while digging into my handbag for my money that was pining away in the deepest recesses of it.

Phew.... it was a good thing I was armed with two ringgit and eighty sen that day which made everything else there beyond my, no not imagination, my realisation.

However, I did not buy enough ingredients that I could make fondant with. So Bake with Yen here I come.

I arrived and the only thing that I got there though was a two ringgit bottle of glycerin. The cashier and staff were in a super 'take it or leave it' mood, as always, so I took it and left.

I turned left and eighty footsteps later I stepped into Chang Tung. Sour pusses sat like sentinels as I walked in.

I toured. I spotted bottles of Red Man food colour pastes and gum tragacanth substitutes that made me smile. They were CHEAP compared to the 'real' thing. Only four ringgit and seventy sen for a bottle of 60 gm of gum tragacanth. I grabbed four bottles of Red Man colour pastes and a bottle of gum tragacanth substitute and forgave the sour pusses.

These were what I bought today. All in all I spent fifty one ringgit, I think, for cupcake art that's still as abstract and as impalpable as my dreams but perhaps one step closer.