Ξ January 22nd, 2010 | → 3 Comments | ∇ Food |
This article caught my eye the other day. The Times Online claimed I wasn’t eating at least 20 great foods. That’s crazy talk.
Exhibit A: Boiled egg
Exhibit B: Frozen berries and oats
Numnumnum. Let the eating challenge begin! How many of these healthy bites are you enjoying regularly? And can Kevin convince me that oily fish can be delicious?
Here’s the list: baked beans, green tea, parsley, apples, grapefruit, tomatoes, pomegranate, new potatoes, oats, poached (or boiled) eggs, frozen peas, prunes, dark chocolate, frozen berries, olives, almonds, chillies, wholewheat pasta, tumeric
Bon appetit!
I spent a long weekend over New Year’s in Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon) with the fun and wonderful Kevin.
As I haven’t any photos from the trip*, I will attempt to paint you a word picture of some highlights and impressions of the trip. We arrived New Year’s Eve with reservations for dinner at the Lonely-Planet-recommended Temple Club restaurant. The meal started with wine and a sampling of salad rolls, spring rolls, fish sauce and peanut sauce. Keep it coming, waiter! Next up we ordered the steamed shrimp in coconut and a second dish I recall only by its mystery ingredient, later to be identified as a banana flower, or young banana. My first bite contained a couple of the little devils, and my mouth promptly went dry. I didn’t think I was allergic to any foods, but for a moment I paid a lot of attention to whether I was still breathing. Yes, yes I was. A moment after Kevin took a bite of the white-ish plant and had the same reaction, my fears of dying of allergic reaction to delicious food my first night in Saigon were allayed. Phew! More food, please!
Indeed, it was a food-filled adventure. We dined on street food prepared on rolling carts, we dined in quaint restaurants tucked away in alleys or in loft-style buildings. One restaurant, Huong Lai (38D Ly Tu Trong), employs children from disadvantaged families or former street children. They receive hospitality training, education and a place to stay. It was at Huong Lai that Kevin fell in love with the taro-potato soup. Fantastic purple, salty and a little sweet, with potato bits. Slurp! Lonely Planet has a dish-by-dish list of Saigon’s greatest (food) hits. We made our way through most of it. Though I think we disagree on the best pho (rice-noodle soup, pronounced like “fir”). Our hotel, Saigon Mini Hotel, served amazing pho beef for breakfast. We slurped down a bowl every morning. Pho 24, the guide’s top pho, wasn’t bad for what feels like a fast-food chain. Indeed, they are soon expanding to Hong Kong.
How could I forget Fanny ice cream? I couldn’t stop myself from ordering what was called something like Bliss or Genius or OMG That’s Amazing. Sort of a chocolate fondue with fresh fruits and 14 mini scoops of ice cream and sorbet. We had young coconut, pistachio, chocolate, dark chocolate, lime, vanilla, peanut, coffee, mocha, banana, sweet rice (?) and more. Not sure I can remember them all correctly, but you get the idea. Yu-um.
We had banh mi sandwiches on the street. Vietnam is home to the best bread in Asia, surely a leftover from the French occupation. But I sure heard more about the American invasion. During our visit to the War Remnants Museum and our tour to the Cu Chi (pronounced koo chee) tunnels, my jaw got sore from being tense and my stomach turned in circles as our tunnel guide let the propaganda fly like the wind. War is evil, yes, but it has more than one side. Enough of that, eh?
More on street food: I think we were outside the Ben Thanh Market when we “mmm’d” and “wow’d” our way through a plate of fried egg in doughy pancakey dreams. Hooray for grease! About those New Year’s resolutions…
Quan An Ngon is a must-visit for street-style food in a restaurant setting. Sit outside or under high ceilings and wander the food stalls surrounding the dining area. Try the molded rice cakes with fish sauce. And the funky dessert cakes and drinks. And I haven’t even mentioned Vietnamese coffee.
You can have a cup at the Highland Coffee chain, or you can sit in the kiddie chairs of street stalls and get the real deal. I think my favorite one was at a cafe with yin-yang sign down an alley near Quan An Ngon. Mind the skeeters though, this place is set in and around an old house with a garden tastefully (though almost overgrown) plantified. Old trees, tiny buddha baby statues. There’s a woman constantly sweeping up the steadily falling leaves. Vietnamese coffee, served black or white, hot or cold, is made sweet with condensed milk. It’s thick, drip coffee sometimes served while it’s brewing. I think it could turn anyone into a coffee drinker.
Other stops along the way: Reunification Palace (I recommend touring this in 20 minutes or less), water puppet theatre (no translation required if you have a vivid imagination. Fun and silly!), old post office (neat building. Stamps and post cards sold here), Notre Dame Cathedral (note the odd opening hours). And there’s a list of other sights and day tours we decided to skip in order to see what we did and eat what we did and sleep when we did. We like sleep.
Another highlight: I had an ao dai (pronounced Ow Yah-ee) tailor made in an afternoon. Photos coming soon. It’s pretty!
I haven’t even mentioned the motorbike culture. Maybe later. To sum it up: there are many, and the only accident we saw happened very close to 0 mph. Amazing how they navigate traffic circles.
Weather? 30-plus, humid and sunny. Pleasant at night.
* A note for travelers, experienced and not: Always be aware of thieves. A motorbike cowboy swooped by and stole our camera one night in an alley around the corner from our hotel. No one was hurt, but it does make for an eerie feeling. The camera strap was wrapped around the wrist instead of around the neck or messenger-bag style against the body. There was a slight jostling and the sound of the lens cap clinking on the pavement. Can’t help but wonder how long they’d been watching, whether we could’ve stopped them, etc. Oh well, huh? The unfortunate event cast a negative cloud over my thoughts of the broad smiles I saw on local people the next day. It didn’t ruin the trip — far from it. But it wasn’t too delicious either.
Be mindful of fish bones.
Take only the water you’ll need.
Spandex is your friend.
If you need help, ask for it.
Go to Bali.
A 35-kilometer hike in the Vietnam heat can be harder than a 100-kilometer hike in the Hong Kong cold.
Take good care of your mother. She’s important.
Since I last wrote in August, I’ve had a few adventures. Shed some tears. Laughed with my whole belly. Made friends. Conquered challenges. Here are just a few shots of recent adventures. More soon, possibly…
Kids on the beach in Amed, Bali
I spent the good part of a week scootering around Bali, Indonesia in August. I spent three days in the SamaSama guesthouse in Amed, on the northeast side of the island. Then three days in Ubud. Think rice terraces, monkey forest, mountain biking. It was excellent. According to Indonesia immigration, I spent eight days, but it was literally less than seven. That cost me US$25, which was more than I paid for two nights in Sanya’s House in Ubud. Can’t complain.
The kids in the photo above were hawking their wares (necklaces, kites, good-luck boxes) and playing with the ball in the photo when I got home from an outing one day. I asked if they’d like to play Frisbee then fetched mine. We had a blast. Then I bought them Cokes and Fantas and suddenly there were twice as many kids, and they were all so thirsty. And, they figured, if I had enough money to buy them drinks, I surely had enough money to buy their trinkets. Lesson learned. I bought one necklace from the tallest fella in the photo. I don’t remember any of their names, but I remember the one standing at my right introduced himself as Barack Obama. Nice. I had a blast hanging out with them as the day wound down, sitting on the black sand beach outside my hotel.
Have banana, will climb.
After Amed I got a ride to Ubud, which was about 100 times more commercialized and civilization-like. And very cool. Have I mentioned the amazing food in Bali?
My trip after Bali was to Danang, Vietnam. This was supposed to be part of a three-day 100-kilometer adventure race through villages and remote areas near the border with Laos. However, a typhoon wiped out many of the bridges and roads and damaged villages where we were supposed to go. So we ended up in and around Danang. It was hot, and I don’t do well in the heat. But the race was great training for the one-day, 100-kilometer Oxfam Trailwalker I was signed up to do Nov. 20-21. That deserves it’s own post.
Here’s Danang:
I ran across those bridges pictured way below.
Here’s me finishing day 2 of the race. I decided to sit out day 3. My aching joints got a well-deserved rest.
It was so hot out there!!!
After Vietnam, I had a quick trip home to surprise Dad for his 60th birthday party. It was great — all six siblings were there, too, plus Mom and Non! A quick trip, but a great trip. On our way back to Hong Kong, Mom and I stopped in San Francisco to catch up with Annemarie (aka my very best friend) and the always-awesome Marilyn and Deb. Of course, I don’t think any of us took pictures (again).
That brings me to today, roughly. Yes, I’ve purposefully left out mention of the fishbone incident.
Yesterday Kevin took Mom and I on a tour of Macau. (flickr set begins here) Now I’ll be able to show people around there too (hint, hint, Anthony). We ate. Boy, did we eat. That really is ideal, to plan a daytrip around food. It helps when the food is fantastic.
Kevin and Emily at the old fort
I’ve survived five days after having my tonsils yanked. After peeking in the back of my throat several times a day then going to compare notes with others online, I figured I might as well blog a bit. It’s easier than responding to all my well-wishers with, “I’m ok.” I’m not posting any photos. There are more than enough out there already. And it looks freaking disgusting, ok? You wouldn’t be able to converse with me without thinking, “zomg her throat is f-ing sickeningggg!” the entire time. And if you were thinking that, you wouldn’t really be listening to my nonvoice, would you?
Tonsillectomy Tuesday
At 10 a.m. my girl friends Carol and Andrea accompanied me to Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital. It was a huge relief to have them there. I checked in and we were shown to room 1308, the biggest hospital room I’d ever seen. About the same size as my apartment. I hadn’t eaten since the night before, so I was considerably grumpy and a bit nervous. The scariest thing for me was wondering how I’d feel when I woke up from the anesthesia. I felt confident in my doctor, so I wasn’t concerned about anything going wrong (besides, I did my part by showing up sans foodage). So, I changed into my stylin’ brown pj pants and blue-plaid frock. Then we let the waiting begin. Around 11 a nurse came in to ask me more Qs. More waiting. A few minutes later and a nurse brought me a wheelchair. Reality check, right? I climbed in, donned a cool little mushroom hat, and off we wheeled. She said that if I’m cold in the operating theater, I should ask for another blanket. Mmmok.
I waved bye-bye to the nurses at the nurses’ station. They “bye-bye”d back. Through a differnt door. Into a different elevator. I asked the nurse her name.
“May.”
“May?”
“Yes.” (she smiled with her eyes)
“Hi, May. I’m Emily.”
“Hi. Don’t worry. You will be ok.” (she rubbed my back)
I think we popped out on the 2nd floor, then took a right toward Operating Theaters 1-5. We stopped in a wide hallway next to a gurney. She came around the side to help me get up and lie down. Another nurse brought me a super warm blanket. Nurse May took off, other nurses and doctors wandered to and fro. Then a kind-seeming fellow named Dr. Kornberg stopped to chat. He’d be my anesthesiologist. He explained everything he’d be doing. Probably more than I wanted to know, but I wasn’t going to complain at that stage in our relationship. Said I’d have a breathing tube, that he’d be keeping me hydrated, that he’d make sure I had alllllll the painkillers I needed. And the IV will stay in until we’re sure I won’t need to be knocked out again. And I’d wake up in the room behind the windows at my left. Yo-k.
I stammered something about him being there the whole time and he said, “Well, somebody’s gotta fly the ship.”
“Cool.” Dr. Kornberg took off and up walked Dr. Lo, my surgeon. Also a cool dude. He went through some of the same things we’d talked about in his office then went to check on the OT. I stayed put until another nurse came over to wheel me in. Game time.
The OT looked pretty normal to me. Adequate. Equipped. There weren’t any windows high above for observation. No, this would be a less significant affair. A red X taped on the ceiling. Machines. Dr. Kornberg was at my left. Dr. Lo perched on a stool to my right, looking relaxed yet focused. Then, for whatever reason, I asked:
“Everyone feeling all right today?”
There were yes’s all around. Music to my ears. I told Dr. Lo I heard he was having a busy day. He said he had a surgery before mine and would have more after. I was glad to be second. And glad he didn’t mind telling me this. Ain’t no thang, Tonsillectomy Tuesday. Then Dr. Kornberg explained that he was going to do a little vein hunting (I don’t recall his exact words). We had some back-and-forth about finding veins. He gave my veins a 3.5 out of 10. Whatev. It’s in, innit?
“You should have a bit of a taste in the back of your throat,” he said.
“Yes, I do…” And I was out like clout.
*Time passes*
I woke up in a reclining position, blurred vision, a tad curious about where I was but figured it out fairly soon. A nurse was at my side, and I wanted to hold her hand. She asked me if my family was here, but I couldn’t answer. She gave me a tissue-box and pen so I could write “friends.” I didn’t yet feel much of anything but sleepy. A short while later, someone wheeled me back to 1308. Carol and Andrea stayed till I was about to zonk out again. Great to have them there. A huge thank-you to all my visitors and well-wishers.
I stayed in the hospital two nights. I was off IV painmeds after the surgery. I had Celebrex capsules, liquid acetaminophen, green gargle that makes my mouth numb and another round white tablet that I believe Dr. Kornberg described as being like ibuprophen. Once on the first night I asked for my medicine early, but otherwise I was fine to wait for the nurses to bring it on schedule. And they were great nurses.
The most helpful thing for me has been reading other people’s experiences day-by-day. So…lemme break it down for ya.
Day 1-2 post-op were the easiest so far. I took drugs, ate ice cream, drank water, rinsed with the green stuff, slept. Day 1 I mostly stayed in bed watching movies. I fell asleep to the MJ memorial that night. Day 2 I walked around the room some, stared out the window at the beautiful blue sky. As soon as I regained feeling in my mouth, I noticed my tongue was numb on the sides. Dr. Lo said it was likely the device used to keep my mouth open pinched a nerve and it’s nothing to worry about. He visited several times each day, said my throat looks normal. No bleeding. The white patches back there are good. Means I’m healing. I didn’t have much voice.
Prereq to heading home was eating soft foods. I ate congee then had buttered noodles with shredded chicken and tiny bits of carrot and peas with Magnus.
Day 3 Oatmeal for breakfast. The food progression satisfied Dr. Lo enough to discharge me. I was glad to stay two nights…reading about tonsillectomy as an outpatient surgery seemed like unnecessary solo torture.
I went home from the hospital with the liquid acetaminophen, Celebrex and antibiotics. The trip home was less than 2-km, and frickin tiring. Lots more sleeping, drugs, water, Mango Wonder Bars (awesome), and sleeping. I would wake up a tad before it was time for more medicine (every 8 hours) in serious pain. It hi-zurt to be al-iz-ive. Throat, tongue, ears. I didn’t speak for the entire day. Gah.
I tried to keep to the 8-hour med schedule as much as possible. I set alarms if I thought I might be sleeping at the right times.
Day 4 More pain, dude. I woke up cursing tonsils and mouths and ears and liquids and solids and swallowing and breathing and sleeping, etc. Popped my drugs, passed out. I went to the supermarket for all things soft. Yogurts, nonchunky soups, cheesey noodley mushroomy bowl (dream BIG!), vitamin water, mango juice, watermelon and a cream-filled pastry. Score. I had to take a timeout after paying to remember what I should do next. Go up the spiral escalator. Left out the door. Through the fish market. Past the waffle stand. Round the VW dealer. Go home. Righto. Arrived home. Passed out. I woke in pain again and decided this sucks a lot. Was getting really frustrated. But, ya know, gotsta get better.
At about 10:30 p.m. I decided I wanted mac n’ cheez, so I set out for Park n’ shop. Also scored some instant mashed potatoes (rawk!) and a can of hot ‘n sour soup. You can get lots of things with ‘n at Park ‘n Shop, evidently. Home again. Dripping with sweat. Tuckered. I was so excited about the potatoes, only to find it hurt like a b*y@t*h to eat the soggy lil tater flakes. Hells bells. Made the mac. Great success=eating half serving of noodles coated in fake cheez. More not talking today. I did whine a little.
Day 5 Not as much pain in the a.m. Decided to go to work (starting at 3:30 p.m.). Ate the potatoes left from Friday (yay!), napped, packed snacks and drugs for the office. Ended up staying till 10:30 or so. Didn’t feel a lot of pain, but it hurt to talk very loud. My voice is really tiny. It feels pretty strange to talk, and my throat gets a bit dry or something quite uncomfortable. A drink of water helps. And I use the green gargle shtuff every few hours. Really nice before eating. The idea that the solid-ish food I’m eating is dwelling in the holes in my throat is gross. So I use to the green stuff to keep from feeling it all dwelling around back there. Bleh.
Brushing my teeth is difficult because my mouth doesn’t want to open all the way. So I go super slow. My tongue is still cycling through stages of numbness. At the moment, the left side feels swollen and numb, like an insect bite. The right side doesn’t feel numb at all. Freaking tongue.
Day 6 Sleeping more than a couple hours at a time means my throat dries out and waking up is painful. I told the doc this during my check-up today and he confirmed this would probably happen. Sooo funny. Only I remedied it with drugs — he recommended a couple glasses of water. Right. Will try that next time.
Also did too much talking today at work, so at about 10 I had to go silent. Felt like a sharp, stinging cramp in my vocal chords every time I moved. Pleasant, no? Still not eating a lot, but drinking like it’s my job.
Oh, and my neighbors upstairs are renovating during the day this week. So that means there’s pulsing drill noises starting at 9 a.m.
Day 7 Slept again. Pain again. Woke at 9 again to drilling. I think I’ll pen a letter to my neighbors. A really nice letter. To express my thankfulness that they can sleep through the night because no one’s renovating our brand-new building at that time. What could they be doing? All that pulsing? Give me the drill. I’ll get the job done in an afternoon. Then I’ll go all Michael-Bolton-and-Samir-Nagheenanajar on your freaking drills.
Ξ April 11th, 2009 | → 6 Comments | ∇ Food |
Ode to a Monster, of sorts:
I’m back in the Kong, I’ll have you know. And I feel like blogging. I was away most of March, mostly busy having the time of my life. During my travels I received a comment about the title of this blog. She said I needed a new title. I think I said something like “Pffff” and moved on. I didn’t think much of it because, um, it’s my blog, yo. My brother can name it whatever he darn well pleases.
But I have been eating pretty healthy these days, so I might as well give the title some legs to stand on. Can’t say the same for this poor cow I cooked tonight:
Lately I’ve been “honoring the recession,” as my pal Deb would say…cooking at home, taking dinner to work with me, buying less alcohol. What have I learned? It is possible to cut back on alcohol too much. Duly noted. I’ve also learned what meats are the healthiest for someone like me.
See, I want to build and tone my muscles.
I know, I know. I can hear you pleading:
“But your muscles are already impressive, Em! You scare me! Why would you want to bulk up?”
Nay, I want to maximize the muscles I have and get rid of the fat. Just because I’m a woman, I shouldn’t let myself get away with 20% body fat. I bet I can get that down to 10%. What do you think? I hadn’t started this post thinking I’d write that sentence, but I’m always game for a challenge. So, here we go.
What steps will I take besides a conscious but non-obsessive decision to eating better?
I fear I’m now hooked on spinning. It’s killer. With that 3 or 4 times a week, plus 1 hike and a day or two of weights/targeted strength workouts, I might die. Err… I mean… achieve my fat-loss goal.
Here’s to healthy!
Gong!
Title holds double meaning.
First meaning: welcome back to the blog. I know we’ve not chatted for a spell. I missed you. Feeling’s mutual? How sweet. Let’s dance. Second meaning: I know which Vietnamese place in Times Square to never recommend to anyone, ever. That’s right, mom, I had one choice case of food poisoning from a couple wayward spring rolls Friday night. Gah. The experience involved several lessons and firsts…
- My first 101-plus fever in recent memory. Those who know me know my memory.
- I learned how tempting it is to blog about things you shouldn’t blog about. And I resisted, successfully. Until now. Well, at least I won’t tell you what it looked like! Ewwww…
- Even though my e-doctor says I should’ve gone to the hospital after the temp went above 101 and stayed above 100 for three days, determination to live and work normally will prevail. Take that.
- When you get better, your absentee ballot finally arrives!
Today, I voted for America’s next president. It was great fun for me and my favorite houseguest. Evidence at right of the voting booth I fashioned using my shower and a pirate flag I happen to have.
Rock the vote. If I can do it from Hong Kong, you can do it from there.
Ξ October 2nd, 2008 | → 3 Comments | ∇ Food |
I’m about to finish off the fruitiest fruit salad I’ve ever eaten, and this includes the spread at the Knight New Media Conference I attended in San Francisco last year. Was that just last year? And did I really just consult Facebook to confirm that? Yes, and yes. Zang!
I would upload a photo for the world to see, but I left my camera on Cheung Chau (tell me if this doesn’t make you start singing “I left my heart in San Francisco”), and two return trips were fruitless (har, har! I thought only he made jokes like that). Instead, I’ll let you picture it.
Ingredients: Watermelon, Hami Melon*, Papaya, Dragon Fruit, Grapefruit, Grrapes, Mango, Orange, Kiwi, Strawberry.
(Red, pink, darker shade of pink, white with black spots, red-pink, purple, creamy orange, orange, green with black spots, red)
Every piece so far has reached perfect ripeness. Some tantalizingly sweet. Some bitter. Some just plain interesting (that’s the dragon fruit talking). Succulent. Juicy. Three pieces remain: kiwi, dragon fruit, orange. I think I’ll eat them in that order. Kiwi first because it’s my least favorite of those three. Then the dragon fruit, because it leaves a bit of a residue that the final bite, orange, will clean up nicely.
…
Yes, perfect.
* Hami melon:
I thought it was a canteloupe slice until I read the packaging. Now I know. It seems they come in different shades, from orange to pink.
Look what I made!
It’s an egg custard roll, veggie dumplings, grapes and agua! YUM!
Oh, and here’s the pirate ship that’s been parked at the Discovery Bay pier all week. I go on little imaginatory adventures every time I pass it. I also make up words like imaginatory.
