Why Do They Leave?

Sorry if this sounds like a Billy Joel song, but it's 1am on a Sunday, my dad's watching English League football playoffs in the den, my mum is dozing off on the bed, and my brother is sitting on the toilet singing and playing "Let It Be" on his guitar as I brush my teeth.

I leave home tomorrow, and if there's one thing I hate about coming home, it's the 36 hours before leaving. I hardly trust myself to speak throughout this time, because my voice isn't always steady. It started with saying goodbye to my softball friends after almost an entire night of mahjong. After three hours of sleep, I went to visit both my grandfathers -- Yeye at the Leong San Temple where his spirit rests within an ancestral plaque in a serene and peaceful courtyard and Kongkong at the United Nursing Home, where he is lying on a bed by a window with a slight breeze, trying to speak and open his eyes. Then I went grocery shopping with my mum, one of those trips she makes every couple of months where she buys 10 of every cleaning implement from fabric softener to bathroom scum remover -- for the record, I think it's shopping as only a megalomanic clean freak knows how to orchestrate. Then we went over to Ah Ma's for dinner, where we ate Mum's famous gigantic fried red snapper with shallots. There was also assam fish curry, garlic prawns, braised spare ribs and a pickled vegetable stew. Then my entire extended family (well, sans Aunty Regina's family in Toronto and Kevin and Cheryl gallivanting somewhere in Cuba) ate fruitcake and kueh that Ah Niong made and watched "Singapore Idol." Just like any other day of spending time with family, except it's the day before I leave home.

Almost ten years later, it feels just like the first time.

In the Ballpark

I was done working by noon on Friday, so I thought to myself, if I could burn a scalper and pick up a ticket for cheap, I'll go hang out in the ballpark. I had to take care of a few errands before that, so by the time I bought a $22 seat for $10, it was in the middle of the 4th inning and Greg Maddux was en route to his first 5-0 start ever, albeit less assuring than in his last four starts. We won, of course, because I was wearing my lucky Cubs shirt. And then the rest of the weekend, we got shellocked by the Brew Crew in the rain.

Chicago Cubs vs. Milwaukee Brewers, April 28, 2006. Section 213, Row 10, Seat 3. $22.00. Cubs 6 Brewers 2.

Please, Sir, Can I Have Some More?

My mum is a very vivacious, gregarious and chatty person (as opposed to my dad, who is overly sociable, back-thumping warm and chatty), so there's never a quiet moment around her. Don't even think about dominating the conversation. She's queen of the court, and you her loyal subject.

But there is one way in which she expresses herself that doesn't require much jibber jabbering, and that's cooking. Just like my grandfather and my uncle Robert, my mum cooks with intuition and heart. There are no recipes. Just bottles of sauces, a wok as large as a bath tub and a kitchen constructed in our backyard so she can indulge (and so we can, too, but after she is done). Nothing that's concocted and cooked in that professional-grade kitchen is something you can find anywhere else. We usually recommend that when you come over for one of our famous garden dinner parties (we have a driveway that fits three cars length-wise, and we set up three long tables where guests tuck in mess hall-style), to please wear elastic.

The moral of the story is, the love for food runs in my family. Actually, it runs in our blood and friends have often wondered aloud, when we travel, why are half our pictures of food, whether of what we eat or displayed at markets (one of our favourite places to explore when on vacation)?

And that brings me to this thought. Thomas often says, you could eat out every night in Chicago and still never run out of places to eat. She's right, but Odysseys were meant to be fulfilled, so I've humbly always made the rounds.

I recently began to share my opinions of local eateries on local online entertainment guide Centerstage.net (www.centerstage.net). OK, I did it to try win a prize for penning the "Review of the Week," and with a spot of beginner's luck, snagged it the first time I posted something.

Here it is, my review of the new old-school deli Eleven City Diner in the South Loop, which earned me a complimentary dinner for two at French restaurant La Fette: http://www.centerstage.net/patronreviews/pr.cfm?ID=9024&which=place

And to see if two-timing is cool, I've posted a couple more:
- Fonda del Mar: http://www.centerstage.net/patronreviews/pr.cfm?ID=8867&which=place
- Dorado: http://www.centerstage.net/patronreviews/pr.cfm?ID=9285&which=place

Some people have foot fetishes, but it's quite apparent that I have a food one.