beef stewed in turmeric-ginger broth (pindang daging) a.k.a the ugly stew


After only 19 months of motherhood, I still very much am a novice. I might not be as clueless as when I first started out, but sometimes after a hissy fit or food being spat on my carpet and/or face, Bébé would make me feel like I’ve gained zero knowledge on motherhood. You might think that after more than a year of preparing solid meal for my terrible monkey of a toddler, I should know by now what works and what doesn’t. Well, it turns out I don’t. Every meal I prepare for Bébé has a 50% chance of wounding up on my carpet instead of in her belly. Remember way back when I bragged said that Bébé was such a good eater that she would even engulf unseasoned mashed steamed broccoli in a heartbeat? Well, scrap that. Fast-forward 12 months later and the monkey-toddler would sniff her food and give it a little lick before deciding if it’s worth her time. I wonder where she got this from. The National Geographics Channel??!

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grilled corn with sriracha-cilantro butter


I woke up feeling blue yesterday. I had this really strange dream that included meeting a very unpleasant woman that apparently had something I desperately wanted. Anyway the dream ended in a cliff-hanger sort of fashion and I woke up feeling more than restless. And I sensed that this restlessness will stay to haunt me throughout the week. I refused however to let that feeling bully me. So I started to read Nate Silver’s “The Signal and The Noise” that I picked up recently. FYI, I’m a political science geek who spent the last five years immersed in research on political parties and Nate Silver sure looks hot to me.

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nasi goreng


I hate waiting. Don’t you? That lingering feeling of uncertainty that seems to perpetually last into forever. Slowly bullying you emotionally, you swear that you’re edging nearer to insanity. Obviously I’m not talking about waiting in the sense where a husband might wait restlessly for his wife to finish putting on her make-up so that they can finally go out and eat (err.. no, I wasn’t talking about me). Nor am I talking about waiting patiently in line at the post office/bank for close to an hour and then finally realising that you weren’t in the correct line in the first place. No, no. I’m talking about something else. Something bigger. I’m talking about waiting for that life-changing, make-a-believer-out-of-me “something”. The kind that makes your palms sweat and heart beat a little faster whenever you think about it. The kind that creeps into your dreams at night, fearing for the worst and making a nervous wreck out of you in the morning. And no, that expensive coffee machine is not your friend and would not soothe your tortured soul.

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