Gochugaru Girl has never held much interest in salted duck eggs. She would pick out the salted egg yolks in traditional Moon Cakes and glutinous rice dumplings.
Recently I had a revelation whilst eating shredded pork congee at my favourite dim sum restaurant, Yauatcha in Broadwick Street. I had a spoonful of congee with some salted eggs and I really loved it.
Gochugaru Girl has heard of an enterprising initiative run by some university Christian Unions, called Text a Toastie. The premise is simple: if you have a question about God, Christianity or the meaning of life, simply text the question you would like answered, your exact location and preferred filling of the toastie. A member of the CU will come along with the toasted sandwich and aim to answer your query.
For students in the UK, popular fillings would inevitably be cheese and ham, cheese and tomato and perhaps even cheese and Nutella. Not so in Malaysia, where I grew up.
Gochugaru Girl and Mr Gochugaru have recently discovered the world of Korean Drama.
This does not refer to the current FIFA World Cup, where the South Korean national team is in a match against Algeria today.
Gochugaru Girl and her family were invited to a beautiful tea at Auberge du Lac this afternoon. To her delight, three different types of tea accompanied the savoury and sweet treats – Chinese Oolong, Lost Malawi and Rare Earl Grey.
It has been a sunny few days and fortunately, the lovely weather has obligingly spilled into the weekend. Taking time off to enjoy an afternoon tea in a lakeside setting counts as one of the highlights of our summer so far. Having the thoughtfulness of a tea pairing lifted the entire proceedings from ‘Oh’ to ‘Ooh La La!’
Gochugaru Girl loves savoury pastries. This harks back to her childhood in Kuala Lumpur, when her parents shopped at Cold Storage or as it was also known, the Weld Supermarket. As a treat for the children, they stopped by the bakery and picked up such delights as sausage rolls, beef pies and chicken pies.
The Weld still exists, in grown-up form and in a city that I now hardly recognise. The existence of a very high crime rate and never ending construction projects makes KL a sort of Gotham City meets Legoland.
Gochugaru Girl co-leads a women’s Fellowship Group. In some countries, this is called a Cell Group. For anyone unfamiliar with these terms, it is not what you think. No one is obsessed with The Ring or is My Precious. Neither has it anything to do with Biology or imprisonment.
Our group meets weekly to study certain passages from the Bible and to pray for each other. Once a term, we have an extended session ending with lunch. The only way to manage the catering without getting hysterical is to do some of the preparation ahead of time.
Gochugaru Girl often accompanies her parents to the Wild West. That is to say, the wild West End of London, starting with their favourite department store on Oxford Street.
As shopping can be tiring, it is best that a simple lunch is ready and waiting for when we return from the foray into town.
Gochugaru Girl is going to the airport this afternoon to receive her parents, who are travelling in from the Far East. For their light supper, after a long flight, she has prepared the one dish that sends chills down the spine of Mr Gochugaru, who did not grow up eating it.
I am, of course, referring to porridge or congee. This is very unlike the porridge you get from oats, rather it is made with rice. It is the one dish we Orientals instinctively turn to when under the weather. Indeed, congee is so easy to digest that it is ideal for everyone from toddlers to the elderly.
Gochugaru Girl has guests tonight and the pressure is on because they are French, and they know and love their food. Since she does not like to repeat menus she has to think extra hard.
I have a strategy, though, sitting in the refrigerator, in the form of champagne and some Montagny from Burgundy. If the whole show gets off to a good start, then the conversation and laughter will flow.
Gochugaru Girl is not much of a gardener. This is because there is not much of a garden where she lives, close to the centre of London. About the only thing which can be accommodated in the tiny patio is a large tub of herbs. Even then she has to worry about voracious insects that attack the tender leaves with impunity.
If God had put me in the Garden of Eden with the task of working it and keeping it, I wonder if I would have risen to the challenge. I suspect I would have said to Adam that, actually, God had asked him to manage the horticultural side of things. Remember, I am merely his helper*.