SUSHI, SMOOSHIE

I never used to like rice but with sushi, I temporarily convert my dislikes into do-able. The Japanese can do that to you. It's pretty funny how I used to be so picky about what went into my mouth and now, I've become adventurous all in the name of "passione"...the tireless pursuit for ultimate happiness in the simple things in life - medium rare beef steak (wagyu, no wagyu, what's the diff?), reverse California maki (best done in Akashi), and steamed custard bun nuked by sunset-orange salted egg (of course, only at Imperial Treasure).

I totally dig when Madonna alerts me with "Get ready to jump now, baby. Get ready to jump."

Sitting in a restaurant, not knowing what you ordered and having no idea why, is like jumping into a seemingly calm lake with your clothes on. You don't know what's in the water, you don't care. You only know one thing, there's no turning back. Like when I was in Amici @ Holland Village the other day, I was in my usual "just because I feel like it" mood. But I really wished I could have turned back and headed for the nearest roti prata mama shop. I actually stayed on with my friend where we were adequately tortured with aglio olio which tasted like soggy salted pretzels, and a pizza with limp yellow slices of Asian tomatoes on Asian cheese - all these at a self-professed AUTHENTIC ITALIAN restaurant. Seriously. Seriously.

I don't know why I'm ranting. I guess I felt conned. Aiyoh.

SCANDALOUS

I LOVE EATING. I LOVE EATING IN HONG KONG. It's sooooo fabulous-o. I don't see why people here aren't as fat as they should be. They are constantly chomping on some carb-central snack in a local joint for breakfast or slurping smoky noodles at a popular cha tien. Expect to get shoved walking from one cramped street to another even more crowded one. Personal space is ignored by the middle-aged auntie rushing on foot to her yum cha lunch with her mahjong friends. Or by the busy city taxi driver who is grabbing his first meal of the day when the sun's blasting in all her fury, and the maddening tourist crowd thickens.

Of course, I joined in the thick of the masticating action the second I stepped onto this very yummylicious city. Wanna see? Amazing eats at plebeian prices. Check it out, folks. Must-see, must-try, must-cry mum-mum for the change in your pocket. Really cheap lah. Cheep cheep.

Sweetened pear tea is hot stuff in a mug, with a must-bite into french-like toast with a squarish slab of oily butter and drenched in home-made maple syrup. Very rich, very me :) Personally, the girlie version of carb-infested snack-ness is the butter toast interlaced with well-behaved condensed milk (i.e. not dripping at the sides).

Hawt.