For Tom’s birthday, we gathered at Tim’s for grilled chicken breasts, pork chops, roast beef, and some pleasant conversation. I always find it interesting that the topics we discuss are so different from the ones at parties. Subjects tend to be more intellectual, whereas conversations at Pat’s house, let’s say, are much more jovial and carefree.
The final week of my Hong Kong food diary. It’s safe to say that I gained a few pounds, as I would continue eating even after full. The weight is mostly in my face (good) and midsection (bad). Yes, my cheeks have filled out, but now I have a muffin top. It was totally worth it though, as I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to eat many of these dishes again.
My cousin brought over some Japanese apples that cost $90 HKD ($15 CAD) for a pair. They were light green and quite large, but they didn’t taste that unique. My uncle believes the cost comes from the way the apples are grown: all the branches but one are cut from the apple tree, so all the nutrients go into one apple.
I’m so glad my family knows how to eat; I get to partake in all the amazing food they buy or cook. Even snacks — cookies, candy, ice cream, and drinks — are of a particular quality. I’m wondering how much weight I’ve gained so far.
I’ve decided to break up my food photos by week, since there’s so much to write about. I’m an extremely picky eater, but I’ve ravenously consumed everything that’s come across my plate (aside from one type of fish, and a dish involving bitter melon). I’m not sure if it’s because the food is fresh, cooked well, or because I can’t cook Chinese food myself and have been without for a long time, but everything tastes so good. And these aren’t photos of all the food I’ve eaten so far; there have been a few times I didn’t have my still camera with me.
Fish is bought fresh every day since the markets are so close. I don’t get a chance to eat fish very often, but now it seems to be in every meal. I don’t think I’ve had the same dish more than twice. This is the reason why I was going to come with Pat and Jen last year, who are gourmands beyond me. And Bronwen, because she loves trying new things, especially food related.
If you want descriptions and explanations on each dish, you’re going to have to break out of your feed readers and use lightbox to see the captions. They look so much better on black anyway.
Sunday pot luck brunch was a little different this weekend; instead of heading to Tim’s, I was at Pat and Jen’s. It was collection time for a sit-up competition (where Julie destroyed everyone in both the largest total sit-ups and most improved over the last two months, winning $60), and we decided to get together to see how everyone was feeling, perhaps compare a six-pack or two.
There were homemade waffles, fresh fruit, honey bacon, French toast, pigs in blankets, smoothies, croissants, and cheesecake. So much delicious food that I could eat, now that I’m on medication to control food induced flare-ups, and I happily gorged myself.
It was such a lazy Sunday. Long conversations sitting around the table, then hanging out and playing games for hours while the food digested.
Pat later told me he used to come here and read about what’s happening with me, but has stopped reading altogether. The reason — and he paused as he was telling me this so that I understood the gravity of it — was that he would rather hear things from me personally.
While this is far from the first time I’ve written about my friendship with him, it still amazes me. We rarely get any one-on-one time, even when I’m over at his house on the weekends for food and conversation, unless it’s on the phone.
Pat always takes such a concern about what’s going on in my life. He asks all the right questions. He listens wholeheartedly without interrupting. He never judges me. He calms me because everything he says makes so much sense. Just being able to open up, where I’m vulnerable, and have him completely accept what I’m saying makes me overflow with emotion.
Maybe I just need someone to understand me right now.
I think I’m going through a period where I’m not getting enough social interaction. My friends are too busy, or our schedules don’t work out. It’s left me confused and disillusioned.
Everyone seems to fit somewhere, but I’m not sure where that leaves me. On days like this, when I’m surrounded by people, it makes me think that perhaps I still don’t know where I belong.
Tim is, as he puts it, cut from the same cloth as his uncle, insofar as they both enjoy entertaining. They also live in a four-storey house, which is perfect for such a thing.
So every Sunday, people come together for a casual pot luck brunch, where guests are invited to bring food, the idea being that it’s be easier to bring a dish somewhere and share with everyone than sit at home and make breakfast for yourself. Last time, I got to try fancy smoked bacon, and a pancake-batter-cooked-in-bacon-grease experiment.
At this point, enough people know about it that no one has to mention ahead of time whether they’ll be coming, but there’s enough food for all.
Tim described this pretty well in a recent e-mail:
Dear Everyone,
I’m fascinated by coordination problems.
Coordination problems are situations where all the actors involved are more or less on the same side, but there is imperfect information. Everyone wants the same general outcome but isn’t sure how everyone else is going to get at it.
Driving is a solved coordination problem. No one wants an accident so we all want to drive on the same side of the road, but there is nothing special about choosing the left or the right side. How do people pick?
In 1958, Thomas Schelling ran this experiment on a group of university students in Connecticut: “Imagine that you are to meet someone in New York City at noon, but you don’t know where and you can’t get in touch with them in advance. Where do you go?”
Without consulting one another, the majority of them picked the same location. I wonder if you can guess what it was (where would you go?).
Every week, we solve and re-solve a coordination problem with brunch. Everyone wants a good and varied brunch spread. Different people come every week and no one RSVPs, so you can never be sure what other people will bring. We don’t consult in advance, I don’t assign dishes or types of dishes. The only information we have is what was at brunch the previous week and my written suggestion about fruits, which is mercifully ignored by most of you.
Yet every week brunch has a wide range of delicious foods. Isn’t that amazing?
I think it’s amazing.
Hope to see you on Sunday,
Tim
If I was participating in Schelling’s experiment, I would have chosen to meet at the clock in Grand Central Station; it’s always stood out to me because of the way it was prominently featured in the fantasy waltz sequence done by Terry Gilliam in The Fisher King. I had no idea that this was also the information booth, and it’s this place exactly that most students chose.
And it goes with the people at brunch as well. When one person eats, another will get up to cook. When everyone is done eating, the dishes are all put away, the pans are all cleaned. With the wisdom of crowds, nothing needs to be said.
I think it’s amazing too.
My introduction to French toast with cinnamon and vanilla and fresh fruit. When I was young, my mom would make French Toast, but it was plain eggs and bread.
It’s not what you’re thinking though. The bottle of Crown Royal is filled with real maple syrup. Not whiskey((Coincidentally enough though, both liquids are Canadian icons.)).
God, it’s nice to have someone cook for you in your own home.
Andrew, Alex, Annie, and I took a road trip to Montreal. Armed only with my GPS and a veggie platter, we headed to the food capital of Canada without a plan or timetable.
Our first stop was for lunch at Schwartz’s. It’s a tiny place, packed with with the heady aroma of seasoned smoked meat. Established in 1928, it’s a landmark in Montreal. I like to imagine that Moe’s Diner in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz was based on a place like this, or maybe that Leonard Cohen frequented in his youth, and I was sitting where he penned the lyrics for his songs.
It snowed all day yesterday, and well into the night. The whiteness outside reflects the sky and has filled my house with bright light. It’s the weekend and I’m awake.
I’ve fallen in love with smoothies. They are usually comprised of three bananas, three tangerines, a third of a pineapple, yogurt, juice, and frozen 4-fruit berry or summer fruit salad. I have three a day. This makes me poo like crazy.
Life has been exhaustingly busy. The photo sessions are over, post-processing is done, and my pictures are all printed. The only thing left is to get them framed. I had my first session with my psychologist. I’m cancelling my Tai Chi tomorrow. I have to plan my relaxation, and this doesn’t make it very relaxing.
This weekend I hope to:
Next week is going to be even more crazy, no pun intended. Monday I’m meeting with the framer, Tuesday and Thursday I have Tai Chi, Wednesday I’m having dinner at the gallery and meeting the other artists.
I haven’t been sleeping well. In the midst of all this sociability, I’ve been battling my anxiety. It’s filled me with a quiet determination, but the long exposure has worn me down.
Another Christmas with Shirley and her family, although this time Bill’s family came down as well. I spent Christmas Eve night and Christmas day at their house, partaking in the Christmas experience with those who believe in the importance of such a ritual.
We were wrapping presents (from “Santa”) until midnight on Christmas Eve. The tree must have been raised the two feet off the ground to fit everything underneath. Negotiations went on through the night as to what time to wake up, but the kids woke us up at 6:30 anyway. Looking back on the pictures of 2005, you can tell how much they’ve grown in just two years.
Loads more pictures behind the cut.
Ah yes. My first trip “home”1 in about a year and a half, since my parents got divorced.
The entirety of my trip was in the company of Andrew and Alex, who hosted me for the weekend. Pictures tell the story.
On Friday night, we went to The Madison to catch up with their old dragonboat teammates. The Madison is a massive pub, made from two or three amalgamated houses in the downtown district. A very popular spot, which was apparent from the amount of people in it as the night went on.
I hadn’t been out drinking in…two years? Something like that.
Though somewhat hectic, everything worked out in the end for Pat and Jen’s wedding.
I missed the wedding rehearsal because I had to close the books for the month at work. I didn’t get to Pat’s place until 9:30 that night, which went late into the morning as loose ends were tied up, and Jason and I stayed up until 3:00 am to finish the slide show.
The girls got even less sleep I’m sure; the last I saw them they were giggling in bed like a high-school sleepover.
Before leaving for Jason’s place to stay the night (leaving the house for the girls), Pat gave me God of War 2 and Ratchet and Clank: Up Your Arsenal as gifts for being in the wedding party.
In the morning we woke up at seven, had some muffins and coffee, decorated the cars, got dressed, and raced to the church.
