Food on the Chinese mind at Perth Zoo.

Posted on April 8, 2013 by Estella

Next to the French, Chinese are probably the most food-obsessed. We start out our days thinking about dinner, feasts to be had at the weekend and closest holiday, and in many cases, plan road trips and holidays entirely around the sampling of various foods. In fact, if you were to tell a Chinese there’s NO food at an event – like in Australia, where most event organisers only serve tea and coffee – it’s unlikely you’ll see him or her. Even when there is no food to be hand, our minds still conjure up images of juicy roasts, succulent braise meats and other delectable morsels a long history of hunger and deprivation has inspired.

Case in point: moi, strolling through Perth’s Zoo with the family, thinking of all the wonderful meals I could have from the various creatures on display. This constant thinking of food I assure you, has nothing to do with me being on a diet. It springs itself on me even when full, at the most inconvenient of times – this being one of them.

Surveying God’s generous bounty at Perth Zoo.

“Aren’t those birds lovely?” observes Amanda aloud.

“Yes, most certainly. Especially covered in BBQ sauce,” I say. “Or pan-fried with a bit of salt and pepper.”

“Mama! How can you look at the birds and think of food? ” she says in mock disgust.

Us with dinner, maybe? A picture of Amanda and I with Ibises at the Perth Zoo.

How can I not? Aren’t the crispy pigeons served in Chinese restaurants birds too? Or have they morphed into plants since they no longer flap their wings? Amanda has never liked chicken or eggs so she can’t make the mental connection. She has the Aussie affliction of liking chicken breasts, the driest and most tasteless of meat. To get her to eat some meat (only monks, the poor and enlightened individuals are vegetarian), I’ve to resort to cooking chicken breast, and so, have to consume it myself. O’ the sacrifices of motherhood.

“How about that turtle?” says Amanda, pointing to a great big shelled thing.

How old do you think this thing is? I’m guessing 100!

“Delicious too,” I say, ribbing her, although I can distinctly remember having turtle soup in childhood. It tastes much like beef, only stringy.

In Malaysia, there are forest shacks you visit to have your fill of game without any hunting. I’ve heard of someone dying after consuming deer cooked in herbs or some other wild animal. Some of those are spirits and NOT really animals, they say. Or the human victim must have offended one of the local deities guarding the forests.

"What's the giraffe doing, mama?" asked Amanda. "Testing the female's giraffe's urine to know if they should make baby giraffes." EEEWWWW, was her answer.

“What’s the giraffe doing, mama?” asked Amanda. “Testing the female’s giraffe’s urine to know if they should make baby giraffes.” EEEWWWW, was Amanda’s answer.

“And how about the Tiger?” asks Amanda. “Don’t tell me you want to eat it too!”

“Tigers eat people so people eat tigers,” I say, teasing her, which is unfortunately true.

Tigers hunt humans when they are no longer able to hunt other animals. Don’t be offended but, unless they’ve developed a taste for humans, we aren’t their first choice of meat. A fit, healthy tiger in the wild much prefers to kill fit, healthy deer or antelope than a fat, sluggish human being, although I don’t suggest you court one to test my theory. Due to the Chinese practise of using tiger parts as cures for an assortment of ailments, they’ve since become a critically endangered species. Even though we lack in-built, physical weaponry, we, humans, are still the greatest predators to walk the earth.

Aren’t they juicy, erm, I mean docile?

“Ok, now don’t tell me you want to eat the lizard,” says Amanda, pointing to a close relative of the iguana.

“Actually, I’ve eaten one of those,” I say, not joking.

The statue looked so real, my mouth was watering. Just kidding! I didn’t want to go near the thing.

Again, in Malaysia, where iguanas are commonly found, some motorists just stop their cars to abduct these creatures for their pot. They definitely take home those run over by vehicles instead of leaving them roadside to rot. Many years ago, my mother’s friend gave her some iguana soup to try and so that evening, she fed us a chunk each for dinner. It also tasted like beef. As a matter of fact, and I don’t know if it’s God’s joke on us eat-everything buggers, but all wild meat tastes like beef.

Enjoying quite time alone. A picture of a grumpy orang utan at the Perth Zoo.

“How about the snake?” asks Amanda, pointing to one in the dim-light of the night-animals enclosure.

“What about it? Chinese eat snakes too. It must taste a lot like eel.”

Eel tastes like fatty fish. I once saw this documentary about soldiers in the Singapore army, gutting and skinning a python to make a BBQ. What can I say? I’ve eclectic viewing habits. At least I know what I’ll be eating if I find myself lost in the jungle.

“How about the otters?” says Amanda, by now eyeing me with the same level of suspicion Aussies regard many of the foods originating from animals identified here.

“Don’t know. Never had one. Although I imagine sauce makes everything edible.”

This elephant tries and tries, to avail, to get what's in the hanging basket.

This elephant tries and tries, to no avail, to get what’s in the hanging basket.

Her “promo board” says: sorry but Tricia cannot stop for photographs.

Now you needn’t worry for the animals of Perth Zoo for they are protected by high walls, high fences, and if that were not enough, security cameras on the outside to deter any would-be Chinese hot-pot enthusiast. I suggest the administrators of Perth Zoo pass out celery sticks and other vegetable crudites to Chinese visitors to help us stave off (and perhaps rewire our brains to not think of all animals as food) our meat-cravings while there. Jokes aside, Chinese do love animals and have a deep appreciation for animal conservation which is why HRH and I brought Amanda to see those big and small, furry, scaly and grizzly things that live lazy, snooze-filled days at the Perth Zoo.

Another critically endangered animal. A picture of HRH’s beloved Red Panda at Perth’s Zoo. We spent 20 minutes at its enclosure just to snap this photo since the thing wouldn’t sit still.

Best diet secrets from around the world.

Posted on April 4, 2013 by Estella

We’re so lucky nowadays because there’s a smorgasbord of food choices in most major cities around the world. Even in country towns, the effects of human migration are slowly making themselves felt, if at times inauthentically, across menus. My quest to lose 10 to 15 kilos and live healthier has led to me to examine the different dietary practices of some of the healthiest people on earth. Here are some of my favourite, which I’ve used to formulate a do-able eating philosophy:

China (the traditional Chinese diet, not the modern one with many “experimental” dishes)

Eat like the typical peasant of yore, as opposed to an Emperor all the time.
Peasant-eating: mostly vegetables and soupy dishes. Picture courtesy of http://www.npr.org
Eat several traditional stir fries (eg. saute garlic with leafy greens, bean sprouts with salted fish) in the one meal. Dark leafy greens such as Chinese kale don’t just provide plenty of fibre but are also high in calcium – great for vegans.
Eat less meat, less often, bulked up with non-starchy vegetables (refer below)
Incorporate traditional ingredients such as lotus roots, gingko nuts, black fungus, black moss hair, glass noodles, bamboo shoots and assortment of herbs (eg. ginseng, dong guai, dragon eyes, wolfberry, red dates, honey dates, north and south almonds) to enhance nutritional profile of dishes.

Have broth-type soup with most meals, at least 1 plate of green vegetables at ALL meals. Sweets and sugary foods MUST be eaten very rarely.

Japan

“Hara Hachi Bu” means eat until you’re 80% full. By the time you are 100% full, you would have over eaten.
Eat a wide variety of foods at each meal. Most meals are low-fat. Konnyaku, a favourite ingredient of Japanese dieters, is loaded with fibre and has close to ZERO calories.
Eat a good low-fat, carb-protein-balanced breakfast. They typically have rice, a small piece of grilled fish, pickles, fermented soy beans and miso soup to start the day.
A picture of a typical Japanese breakfast. Picture courtesy of http://j-simplerecipes.com
Try to make meals pleasing to the eye as well as palate as we eat with the eyes as well as mouth. That way you’re more likely to feel satisfied after a meal.

French

No foods are forbidden. We can eat all foods in moderation. However, by “eating in moderation” they mean single serves in small amounts. As my French friend says, “You can have fried chicken, Estella. Just the one piece is okay.”
Small serves of indulgent food spaced throughout the week is less damaging to the waistline than 1 huge serve once.
Enjoy “the moment” when dining out. Don’t rush through meals. Instead, savour them. If dining at home, use nice China to liven up the dining experience.
You can have a glass of wine with meals. Remember, just 1.
End meals with a small leafy salad. Here’s a video on French salads from my favourite French Canadian Chef, Laura Calder.

Indian

Indian spices confer a multitude of health benefits. Turmeric for instance, protects against cancer. Cumin seeds can fight colds and the flu by boosting your immune system. You can easily add them to any of the foods you already cook, imparting them with added flavour. Refer to a list on the numerous health-giving properties of Indian spices.
Curries needn’t all be fatty and loaded with calories. Many can be made without adding coconut milk or cream. Ghee, while preferred by most Indians to flavour food, is optional.
Lentils aren’t just cheap and versatile, but are low in fat and high in protein too. Regular consumption lowers your cholesterol, protects your heart, stabilises blood sugar and helps in weight loss.

Korean

Koreans place a great emphasis on eating healthily. Even their junk food caters to the health-concscious consumer with benefits of the ingredients used listed on the front or side of the package.
Most Korean meals come with many vegetable-based side dishes, adding to the variety of foods eaten at each meal. This means that we have a higher chance of getting the nutrients we need throughout the day.
Instead of regular polished white rice, Koreans frequently consume a boiled blend of grains to up their intake of minerals and fibre.
Foods are seldom fried; most often foods are boiled, BBQ-ed in such a way as to allow excess fat to run off. Fatty meats are cut into very thin slivers so the average diner doesn’t really eat much of it.
Pound for pound, Koreans eat their weight in Kimchee a year. Kimchee’s been found to be one of the world’s healthiest foods, providing the gut with a dose of good bacteria, often found in other fermented foods like yogurt and miso.

South American

You’ve probably already heard of Quinoa, Chia seeds and Acai berry. But did you know they, along with Cacao, the purest form of chocolate (yes, chocolate!) are South American superfoods?
Their cuisine, while varied across the vast region, typically features tomatoes, bell peppers, garlic, onions and black beans. Tomatoes are known to protect men against prostate cancer, while bell peppers are high in Vitamin C. Garlic and onions are antibacterial, while black beans very high in fibre.

Australia

Living in a country with a mostly Anglo-diet, which I too enjoy from time to time, I’ve found ingredient substitution key to enjoying many foods. For instance, did you know you can make creamy Cabonara sauces and soups using (unsweetened) condensed milk? To thicken the consistency of these sauces or soups, simply add a heaped tablespoon of cornflour to the mix. I guarantee you, your taste buds won’t know the difference.

Instead of starting off the cooking process with butter or oils, use it at the end to flavour food. You will taste the ingredient, certainly smell it, but use far less than you would with conventional cooking practices.

And there you have it: some of my “thin-spirations” (inspirations for being thin and healthy) from around the world. Although non-exhaustive, it will provide you with a spring-board to launch into healthful eating. Bon Apetit!

The forced road to skinniness.

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Estella

You must be thinking I’ve a couple of screws loose in my head to want to be thinner than what I already am. For the record, I was quite happy about my body, even if I denied the existence of tuck-shop lady arms (yes, thin people have those too), a cute little roll of abdominal fat (I put that down to having Amanda), and other wobbly bits best left to your imagination. Not that I’d want you to imagine me naked, but you get what I’m saying.

When I did a straw poll among friends, no one voted me as needing to shed weight. The common consensus was, and still is, I have a pretty decent bod for my age, what more being a mother. We, child-bearers, can’t hope to compare our bodies with our fruitless sisters because anyone who’s birthed and nursed a child will know the toll that takes on your body: the stretch marks, the loose bits…okay, enough of scaring you.

Well, as you might have gathered from reading my other posts, my mother is fat-phobic. Even when I was less than 45 kilos, she’d say, “Of course you MUST be thin. You CANNOT be fatter than your mother. I’ve had 4 children, you’ve only had 1.”

And yes, I’ve heard too many times the story of her emerging, post-delivery, wearing her pre-pregnancy jeans home. I must have my father’s genes because I went home fat, swollen and oozy after having Amanda – proof Asian girls are not naturally thin.

You can only imagine what she said when I went home the December just past, weighing a very hefty (for my height and bone structure anyway) 56.5 kilos! Actually, you don’t have to imagine that either because I’m just going to tell you.

“You’re obese,” she declared, right in front of Amanda.

“What’s obese?” asked Amanda, who’d only ever heard me refer to myself, jokingly, as “fat.”

“That’s whale-sized,” I told Amanda, who responded theatrically with enlarged eyes, raised eyebrows and gaping mouth. “Sumo wrestler size.”

“What’s a Sumo wrestler?”

“Ssshhh…I’ll tell you another day.” To her grandmother, I said, “What do you mean by obese? In Australia, the average woman is a size 14.”

Of course, the average woman in Australia is also supposedly 5 feet 7 inches tall. At 5 feet 3 inches, I shouldn’t be more than a size 10. But I was only wearing a size 8 to 10, so how could I possibly be obese?

“Think of all the illness you’ll be getting,” she said. “You have to be responsible for your health, especially since you are someone’s mother. If something happens to you, no one will love Amanda like you do.”

Ignoring my protestations about being healthy and curvaceous, sort of like Salma Hayek but yellower, my mother had my father, who colludes in all her schemes, take me for a COMPREHENSIVE blood test, where I was duly informed, I have HIGH cholesterol. Wait, it gets worse. You can have HIGH cholesterol even if you eat plenty of Avocados, but my BAD CHOLESTEROL was very, very HIGH. Good cholesterol, very, very low.

You know what that means, don’t you? I was on the fast track to getting a heart attack, a stroke, Type 2 diabetes… It was hard denying the numbers in front of me, even if by Australian standards and the increasing waistlines of many Asians – due to our growing portion sizes and burgeoning love affair with Western food – I was rather slim; my BMI an acceptable 22.7.

As you may recall, when I returned to Malaysia in December, I was greeted at the airport by my sister-in-law who’s now in direct sales, that is, apart from working full time as a tax consultant. To support her growing business, her brother, my husband, HRH, reluctantly agreed to buy me Nuskin’s The Right Approach (TRA) programme. Even at cost price, it is roughly AUD 1505 (RM 4800) for 3 months worth of shakes, supplements, and other odds and ends.

I was skeptical because I had tried Herbalife more than 10 years ago, and within a year, had put back on the 5 kg I’d lost. But since HRH had agreed to buy the whole package for me…

While waiting for my package to arrive, with my sister-in-law’s first entry into Australia as a permanent resident, I devised my own weight loss programme using everything I know about nutrition. Here’s what I did:

Limit daily calorie consumption to 1200. Why 1200? It’s based on my OMRON-machine reading courtesy of sister-in-law. It’s the amount of calories I need a day to sustain my activities. Any less and I lose weight.
Make meals more flavourful, less fatty. I said goodbye to my beloved fish crackers, which I’ve been indulging in almost from birth. Also sayonara to pig innards, all other obviously greasy foods. Making over favourite foods became a new hobby.
Eat vegetables at EVERY meal time. It’s a no-brainer, but we don’t eat nearly as many vegetables as we should. I recommend you find a tasty low-fat dressing (Sushi Su, balsamic vinegrette etc) and eat that giant salad tonight. Skip the croutons. If having a decadent dressing like Caesar, put it on the side and use it to “flavour” the odd bite or so.
Control portion sizes. Up until the last 20 years, we used to have big feeds only on celebratory occasions. With improved standard of living, we’re celebrating all the time, hence eating more than ever. A quick trick to getting yourself used to eating less is using smaller plates. Research also shows that the more people you dine with, the more you tend to eat. Try dining alone.
Make eating better a game. It’s a fun one too. You’ll be standing in the food aisle thinking, “What can I put in place of fatty ingredient X, to make it taste just as good, if not better?” With this way of thinking, I’ve turn out creamy pies with less than 400 calories, bangers and mash with less than 400 calories…It doesn’t have to be rabbit food all the way, but being thin does require meal-planning and/or an acute awareness of what you put into your mouth.

When my sister-in-law turned up with my Nuskin TRA package 2 months later, I had already lost 2.4 kilos. It wasn’t a whole lot but I was very proud of my efforts since I had identified some of my dietary weaknesses and was able to partake in family dinners as usual. With her help, using the OMRON machine, I found that my muscles had increased by 0.7%, visceral fat (abdominal fat) decrease by 1, total percentage of body fat decrease by close to 2%. That may not seem like a lot to some, but if you are more than 1/3 fat like me (yes, it’s truly mind-boggling how someone seemingly thin can have so much fat), every little bit counts. It should be noted that for long-term weight-loss, healthy-eating habits have to be established and maintained. As for exercise, it can make you feel good, but undertaken at the amount needed to loose weight, will make you age a lot faster, due to the extra free-radicals generated by the body during exercise. Perhaps, with exercise alone, you will gain back the weight once you stop.

1 month later, on Nuskin’s TRA programme, incorporating my own method of healthy-eating, I lost 3 kilos (4 kilos if you take my measurements first thing in the morning), 3 cm on my tuck-shop lady arms, 7 cm from my waist, 5 cm from my post-baby pouch aka abdomen, 6.5 cm from my hips, 3.5 cm from my thighs, 6.5 from my calves. I don’t have the OMRON machine so I can’t tell you what my visceral fat, percentage of fat or percentage of muscles are, but I can definitely say that I feel a lot better; much lighter.

PLEASE NOTE: I am NOT selling Nuskin or any other product. This is neither a paid endorsement, nor is it a recommendation for the product.

Obliging Asian daughter that I am, I’m simply chronicling my journey to become the thin person my mother has always wanted for a daughter, and perhaps inspiring a few of you, with a few extra pounds of pudge, to embark on health-finding journeys of your own. If my story has taught you anything, it should be that even seemingly thin people can be fat inside. As for visceral fat and the OMRON machine, here’s a snippet on Youtube about it:

May you find your inner thin person!

Our first month in Perth.

Posted on March 4, 2013 by Estella

Since a picture paints a thousand words, I’ve decided to allow a selection of photos I’ve taken this month do the talking. Do enjoy!

Amanda’s swimming teacher would be so proud of her. She can now swim 25m freestyle and backstroke, do tumble turns and recently mastered survival backstroke too.

A picture of the noodles I prepared in our Fraser Suites kitchen in Perth, Western Australia.

Who says tasty can’t be healthy? This bowl of noodles captures the essence of summer with of punnet of grapes tomatoes, 1 yellow capsicum and 200 gms of spinach. It’s low in fat but high in flavour.

My little Aussie has a sausage roll to start the first school day of the year.

Here come the dragons! Please welcome the snake year!

T’was 42 degrees on the day but we were glad we braved the heat to be part of the festivities.

Picture of the crowd taken by HRH, who seemed to be the tallest one there.

You can tell how much sun there was by how tan I am. Since I bought Amanda a sam fu in Singapore, she could dress up for this year’s Chinese New Year with me.

It was the Chinese New Year but we had every race known to man at that street fair.

What Chinese New Year is complete without Choy San, God of Prosperity? Here he comes to give out red packets with gold-colored tokens to children.

You wouldn’t believe it but the lion dancers were Latin Americans!

Bite-sized pieces of Nyonya kueh were real good.

To escape the 42 degree heat, we ducked into a desert shop along the main street in Northbridge, Perth.

Amanda enjoying a ride on her new two-legged scooter.

Another lovely evening in Perth. You can always admire the yatches even if they don’t belong to you.

A picture of the crabs in a tank in a restaurant in Northbridge, Perth.

Snow crabs look better than they taste. These babies here were destined for someone’s Chinese New Year feast.

Having a light moment in a regular shopping centre.

Such lush grass at the Nedland’s Esplanade.

If only I could cart that tree home. I reckon it’d look marvellous in my lounge.

That building in the background is a hotel.

Capitalising on the Chinese’s love of gold and money, this restaurant has both as part of its decor. Not sure about the spiral josticks hanging from the ceiling.

10 out of 10 for presentation and taste. A picture of the Sunomono we had at Kido Japanese restaurant in Nedlands, Perth.

“If I don’t learnt to skateboard now, then when?” asked HRH before buying that hazardous contraption.

Enroute to buying me a new handphone. A picture of HRH and Amanda in Perth City.

A picture of the all at Gino's in Fremantle, Perth.

A picture of the wall at Gino’s in Fremantle, Perth.

Gino’s is a gastronomic institution in Fremantle, Perth, that started long, long, long ago when a Italian tailor dreamt of opening a coffee shop selling good coffee. Today the place has coffee, a wide selection of cakes and perfectly-cooked main meals.

Farewell my fish.

Posted on February 18, 2013 by Estella

7 plus years ago, on our inaugural visit to Perth, HRH and I had the best grilled barramundi ever; the fish tasted of the ocean and was crisp on the outside but still moist on the inside. Since then, HRH and I have been eating the length and breadth of Australia and New Zealand, trying to find a whole cooked barramundi that equals – just equals, I’m not asking for too much – the flavour and freshness of this Perth barramundi.

So yesterday, after scoping out the area beyond Nedland’s Esplanade, we decided to go for a drive to Fremantle, in the hope we’d stumble across the same hotel or motel we stayed at all those years ago that served us the divine barramundi. It was such a long time between then and now that neither of us remembered the name of the place or where it was; only that the hotel or motel was out of the city, about 5 or 6 storeys high, white and rectangular on the outside.

“I remember it being somewhere along Caning Highway, on this side of the road,” said HRH, pointing to the left. By now, darkness had fallen.

“I remember there being no other buildings around. I had to push Amanda (then 4 months old) in her stroller two blocks downhill, past houses to get to a coffee shop for a bite.”

We drove on, following Canning Highway until we had no choice but to turn Tom Tom on and loop back via Como to the city, where we might grab some dinner.

“It can’t be here,” said HRH, taking a swift look at Tom Tom. “We’re only 4.5 km from the city. I remember it being 7 km away from the city.”

Of course, in our combined memory banks, that barramundi is still the best ever whole grilled fish we have ever eaten, and we have eaten an innumerable quantity since. Sure enough, a building very similar to the one we were looking for loomed ahead, on the left side of the road.

Eureka! We’d struck gold! We drove the car up the driveway and parking it went, “Yes, yes, yes, this IS the right place!!!”

As a bewildered Amanda shot us questions about this barramundi eaten well before her days of solid food began, we congratulated ourselves on the find. Led by our bellies, we went inside, swept past the counter, straight to the restaurant. We were going to eat this fish again, regardless of the cost.

Back in the day, the restaurant was this dimly lit, non-air-conditioned affair. We were pleasantly surprised to find it had undergone a metamorphosis since; there was now more than adequate lighting, air-conditioning, even wall-mounted flat screen TVs to entertain diners. All that remained of the restaurant we remembered was the hole in the wall by which food is taken out by wait staff. All that’s fine; we were only there for the barramundi. We couldn’t cared less if they had left the restaurant alone or painted the whole room bright pink. All we wanted was that delectably succulent barramundi.

But for a heart-stopping moment, we found it was no longer on the menu.

“We can still grill you barramundi,” assured the waitress when we told her the story.

I suppose a returning customer is still a returning customer, even if the return took 7 odd years. Restaurateurs like to know that their food is worth coming back for. So we ordered 2 grilled barramundi with chips and salad on the side for $34.90 each, noting that inflation has well and truly set in since our last visit.

We waited with bated breath for our barramundi, anticipating a glorious gastronomic reunion. What came out looked nothing like what we’d remembered it to be. How could this be? Where was the whole fish? Take all these stupid chips and salad away. We wanted a whole grilled barramundi! It was doubtless palatable, but not the sort of fish I’d spend 7 years thinking about, between thoughts of Nasi Kandar at the stall down the road from KLCC.

But in true Aussie fashion, when asked by the waitress how everything was, I smiled and said, “Lovely. Just lovely.”

Well, it wasn’t like she cooked the fish. Telling her the truth would just have hurt her feelings. Driving away from the place after dinner, HRH said, “And how did we find the motel again?”

“I think you found it.”

“How did I find it?”

“Good question. I was wondering how you’d settled on such a dingy motel.”

“I don’t remember what it looked like inside.”

“It was early 80s, worn carpet, poor lighting, 2 queen beds in a room. Very stuffy.”

“You remember because you enjoy the rooms while I have to go to work. I remember now. I booked that place because it was the cheapest then. Nowadays you don’t even look twice at such places. Now I only ever search for 5 star accomodation.”

“Like I always say, human beings must progress.”

While not everyone’s ides of progress is resort-style lodgings and Michelin-starred chef-prepared meals, most people can appreciate the need to improve in life. After all, if one is not going forward, then one is at the very least stagnating. Which probably explains why the chef who prepared the best ever barramundi is no longer working at the restaurant. If you can turn out a dish, or a song or any random piece of work that someone remembers and uses as a benchmark for all future reference, then you have surpassed yourself. That being the case, the time is ripe for you to progress on to something else. Sadly, this too means HRH and I will never eat another Barramundi like the one we had 7 years ago, ever again. If you or anyone you know knows where we can find finger-licking whole grilled barramundi in Perth, do drop me a line in the comments section on By Estella Dot Com’s facebook page or append a comment to this post.

P/s It has to be very, very, very good Barra.

My Malaysia: meeting the locals.

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Estella

HRH’s sister takes us to her regular coffee shop, a place like countless other coffee shops throughout Malaysia. There are blue Terrazzo tiles on the floor, large framed mirrors facing each other on walls for good feng shui, old marble tables with 4 or so fragile-looking wooden chairs each.

The sign that greets me before I enter says, “Beware of snatch thieves.” I ask HRH to take a commemorative shot, my face oozing enough oil to fry Indian roti.

We take a seat at one of the square tables.

“What is this place?” asks Amanda, her eyes as wide as they can be for small peepers.

“A coffee shop,” answers HRH. “Your mum and I grew up visiting places like this.”

Our coffee shops in Oz sell Continental cakes and babycinos. This place, according to a board on the opposing wall, advertising specials, sells wanton mee with soup or tossed in black sauce, all sorts of roti, nasi lemak to be sure, and to my amazement Roti Babi.

Roti Babi is a Nyonya dish. My mother says it’s made by stuffing a thick slice of bread with a mixture of cooked onions, pork meat (hence the name, “Babi”), crab meat and spices, dunking that bread into egg wash and then frying it.

Since I’m on holiday I ignore her admonishments to stay away from it because it’s unhealthy, and order myself a serve from the Cantonese-speaking Malay waiter. I discover that even the other Malay waiter understands Cantonese; phrases pertaining to food anyway. HRH, now eating less post-surgery, has a wanton mee to share with Amanda, HRH’s sister 2 half boil eggs with coconut jam on toast. We order an assortment of local beverages.

Returning to HRH sister’s car, I notice a rojak stall directly behind the restaurant. Closer inspection reveals a whole back lane full of hawkers. How delightful! I must have some rojak! So even though already full, I order a portion to go along with HRH’s order of sliced jackfruit and watermelon. HRH has suddenly become very health conscious, constantly insisting on fruit.

The stall holder, a granny with surprisingly good teeth (or could they be dentures?) asks us to take a seat at one of the tables while her husband, an old man with gnarly hands to match hers, whips up my sweet, sour, hot and spicy Malaysian fruit salad.

Perched at the table, we have an uninterrupted view of the kitchen to the restaurant we frequented previously, plus their wet, squatting loo. A swarm of fat house flies hover around us as the granny brings us our fruit and Rojak.

“Eeewwww…this place is disgusting,” announces Amanda, sitting on HRH’s lap.

I tuck into my Rojak, unperturbed by the flies or Amanda comments, as long-forgotten conditioning takes over. I want to point out to Amanda the mee seller in the corner, frying up plates of noodles without lighting or running water, but am caught up in the realization of being home, even if I am in a back alley teeming with vermin and a view of a wet, squatting loo.

Upon hearing that we’re back from Oz, the granny, who will never visit such parts in her life, banters with us as though we are her most loyal of customers. She waves to us later, as we drive off to head back to the Intercontinental Hotel.

On our walk to the car, Amanda stops her father with another wrinkled-nose look of disgust and says, “Why is there so much rubbish there?”

She points to a row of derelict single storey houses strewn with rubbish-filled plastic bags and empty drink bottles. In my Malaysian mode, I had not noticed any of this, alighting from the car. Now I can see it as clearly as she can.

“People are not as civic-minded in Malaysia,” HRH explains to her. “Almost everyone has to earn a living, many have hard lives. When people have hard lives, they don’t have the chance to think about things like public cleanliness or the impact their lifestyles have on the environment. Here, the rich are very, very rich and the poor are very, very poor.”

He left out the pretend rich and the pretend poor. I’ve been accused by HRH numerous times of trying to pass off for the latter.

“What about in the middle?” asks Amanda.

I’m glad that they teach her to question in school. We were encouraged to be quiet when I was growing up in Malaysia. From what I hear, little has changed.

“There is very little middle here, Amanda,” I say. “You can either be very, very rich or very, very poor. Those are your 2 options living here.”

“That’s why you must study hard,” says HRH.

“Mummy and daddy studied hard, that’s why you have the life you have. Nothing comes without sacrifice, Amanda,” I say. “Nothing.”

Reaching the hotel, we choose to sample the couches nearest to the hotel gardens. Thanks to a huge glass wall, we can see man-made waterfall, sculptured gardens and all, in air-conditioned, mosquito-free comfort. A hotel staff comes up to ask us if we’d like any drinks. Juice is priced at RM17 per glass. At the coffee shop we were at, it was only RM2.50. As before, I’m referred to as ma’am.

“See, this is how the rich live,” I tell Amanda, waving the hotel staff away. “When you are rich in this country (actually any country in Asia), people treat you like a king.”

Unless your surname is Packer or Rinehart, your riches won’t buy you the sort of life you can have in Asia down under. Sure, your life will be comfortable, but only in select 5 star hotels will you ever be called “ma’am” or “sir.” The average Aussie establishment is too egalitarian to accord you any special titles or treatment. We’re all mates, loves and darlings, in Oz.

At the prompting of HRH, I go to check on our room. Front desk staff, different from that which greeted me at 6 am, claim to not have our booking. While polite, the man delivering the news has a decidedly frosty demeanour. I go to fetch HRH who irons out the matter. When I next see the man to get out key-cards, he is all warm and welcoming.

“Oh I’m sorry. It was our mistake,” he coos. “You will find the new rooms utterly lovely. The bed sleeps 4, the bathroom has a view of the bedroom.”

Suddenly we are best friends, eh? HRH, his sister, Amanda and I take the lifts up to find a uniformed hotel staff outside our door.

“I brought you your bag,” he says in Malay.

I open my wallet to fish out a RM5 note. Passing it to him, I instruct him to bring my bag inside.
He brings it in and places it on the platform for luggage so that I have easy access to it. He thanks me and takes his leave.

Amanda marvels at the room, perhaps not expecting to see anything like it outside of Oz. The tub is huge, the toilet has a bum-washing function, all surfaces gleam so brightly I think I might go blind from the light reflecting off surfaces. Minutes later, house keeping comes by to check if I have adequate bottles of water. Unlike Oz, we can’t drink from the taps.

Housekeeping passes me 3 bottles to add to the 3 we already have, thanks me and leaves. While HRH and his sister catch up, I give Amanda and myself a shower.

“We’ll try out the bath tonight,” I promise her.

When I come out, the door bell rings. It’s a different man from housekeeping. Without me inviting him in, he comes to fold up the excess bedding and places that in the wardrobe. Then he proceeds to pick up my discarded towels. Without any explanation, he zips out of my room with them and returns with 3 new fluffy towels.

Holding the door open for him to leave, I can see him giving me a once-over (actually many times over) with his eyes, as his hands go about hanging up the new towels. After what feels like forever, he comes out and standing before me asks, “You Malay?”

“No.”

“Thai?”

“No,” I say, wishing he’d just leave me alone. I have been on a very long flight, am dog tired. What I am is tired.

“What are you?”

“Cheena.”

“Oooh…you lawa,” he says. Lawa is Malay for beautiful. Then he looks me up and down again.

I feel ill.

“Thank you. I’d like to rest now,” I say, excusing him.

“Do you have enough water?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He steps out of the room and I close the door. Minutes later, my door bell rings yet again. The same house keeper returns bearing 3 bottles of water and several small packets.

“For you,” he says with a sheepish smile, handing me small packets containing cotton pads and nail files. “This,” he says pointing to the nail file, “will make you more lawa.” Then he disappears into my bathroom.

Oh? What now? I am left holding the door open, waiting for this person who clearly doesn’t know a guest is a guest is a guest, to leave.

When he returns from an extended tour of my bathroom he holds out his hand. Unable to comprehend what this is about, since his Malay is broken at best, and I can’t speak whatever he speaks, I hold out his small packets to him.

“Shake hands,” he says, looking at his extended hand.

I reluctantly shake his hand. He looks like he is about to die of rapture.

“I have to rest now,” I insist.

He steps out of my room and I close the door. I settle between HRH and Amanda on our super-sized King bed and recount to HRH what just happened. HRH’s sister has long left. HRH is mildly amused. I am on my way to beddy bye land with thoughts of all the delicious food yet to come when our door bell rings again.

I look up at HRH. No words are necessarily. He gets up to answer the door. He returns bearing another 2 bottles of water, grumbling about “my new admirer.”

I am once more off to beddy bye land when the door bell rings yet again. HRH looks annoyed, gets up to check it and returns with yet 2 more bottles of water.

“Same guy?” I say to him with sleep-heavy eyes.

“Yes,” fumes HRH. “He better not bother you or I will speak to management downstairs.”

I fall into a deep sleep to the sounds of our wall-mounted 40 inch flat screen TV.

TBC

Experimenting with RAW.

Posted on October 19, 2012 by Estella

Since I’m going back to Malaysia mid-December to see family and friends, I thought it wise to try to loose a couple of pounds as I’ll be presumably feasting for most of my stay there. Perhaps, if I return home looking like the overstuffed dumpling I do now, my mother, very much fat-phobic, will give me endless lectures on “the need to shake off some weight.”

Enter the Raw Food diet, a way of eating based on well, raw food. I intend to stick to this diet as long as possible, to shift 5kg of lard from my waist, hips and thighs. I’m a pear-shaped woman so these are my problem areas.

Before you send me care packages, rest assured that I am eating well, better than ever in fact. Last night for instance, with His Royal Highness on-call, hence not eating with Amanda and I, we had zucchini pasta with creamy Avocado sauce and a side salad of mix greens and truss tomatoes dressed in balsamic vinegar. This morning, I had a “garden vegetable soup” composed of the blended leftover zucchini pieces from last night’s pasta, 1 Avocado, 2 cloves of garlic, a tomato and a large handful of salad leaves.

Surprisingly delicious. A picture of my raw zucchini pasta with Avocado sauce.

I got the ratio of green to red vegetables wrong, hence the unappetising colour. But it tasted good anyway. A picture of my garden vegetable soup which I could have had with flaxseed crackers.

So as to beef up my protein intake, in order to feel fuller for longer, I swung by my local health food store this morning after dropping Amanda off at school and bought Sun Warrior Raw Vegan Protein. It’s supposed to be a non-gritty powder, but obviously not as smooth as conventional Protein Powder made from soy or whey.

Weight loss aside, I’m motivated to give this diet a go as I’ve heard many good things about it; my mother, who once thumbed her nose at raw food, insisting that Chinese only eat cooked food, has recommended me many a juicing recipe after her half-brother, my half-uncle, recovered from pancreatic cancer.

A team of Japanese doctors had opened him up and discovered that the cancer had spread. Without doing anything, because nothing could be done for him, they sewed him back up and more or less told the family to be prepared for his demise. I told His Royal Highness about my half-uncle and he said, “He’s got at the most 6 months. Pancreatic Cancer is a very aggressive cancer.”

Touch wood, he’s still with us, years on, apparently in remission. According to the great family grapevine that is my mother, he was fed vegetable and fruit juices around the clock, apart from having chemo-therapy. Of note is soursop, a tropical fruit that has achieved cult status for purportedly being able to combat cancer. I hear he had plenty of that too.

If you’re interested in trying out raw food or just adding more vegetables to your diet, do check out Ani Phyo’s website or that of Jennifer Cornbleet. The former has come out with a raw food recipe book with Asian-inspired dishes, based on her trip to Thailand, that might appeal more to the Asian palate, while the later has many tasty recipes for soups, salads, main meals and desert. Because this is 2012, you can also find both on youtube.

Banana republic: my one-day quest for tight abs and thighs.

Posted on August 17, 2012 by Estella

Yesterday, my friends on facebook were amused when I announced I had eaten 7 bananas in quick succession. My inspiration? This youtube video I came across featuring “banana girl” Freelee, in my search for a raw cake recipe. I saw her taut midriff and her protruding hipbones and I thought, I’ll get me some of that. For those who’ve never heard of raw cuisine, its cuisine based entirely on uncooked produce, most commonly vegetables and fruit, but also incorporating seeds and in some cases, meat.

It didn’t take too much searching for me to stumble across “banana girl’s” boyfriend, Harley aka “banana boy.” They are both named thus because of their unusually high consumption of the tropical fruit and their fruitarian lifestyle advocacy activities; in addition to running website “30 Bananas a Day” and peppering youtube with fruit-based recipes, vegan diet and lifestyle tips, the Australian-based duo also give talks over in the States.

If my one attempt at fruitarianism has taught me anything, is that a diet based on consuming only fruit, and only one fruit-type at a time, is definitely not for me. I have no idea how “banana girl” and “banana boy” stomach it – actually I do, they both like bananas – but I was practically gagging by the time I finished my sixth banana.

I felt full, slightly queasy, and would rather chew on my thumb than down the eighth piece. I looked at the remaining bananas I had bought at $3.40 per kilo from Coles for this exercise and wish I had bought apples instead. Delectably sweet, crunchy Fuji apples.

I reported my findings to my good friend Tania who I saw for dinner and she chuckled. Since I have known her, I have been a vegan, a vegetarian, a raging carnivore rebounding from all the vegetables, who occasionally scoffs down paw paw salad meal after meal. Whenever I announce my new diet plans to her, she regards me the way an adult does a child who says that the dinner table is now a shop and the couch is the restaurant. She knows I am serious about finding a meal plan that will allow me to eat as much as I want and lose weight but she also knows I love food too much for this to work.

“But you’re already slim!” most of my friends in real life tell me.

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I chide them. “For a Chinese girl, I’m a hippo!”

They look at me aghast, before I point out the likes of Singaporean blogger Xiaxue who’s the size of one of my legs. Even Dawn Yang, her rival, is only half of me. Looking at them I wonder, do these people never eat?

His Royal Highness affectionately calls me a “chubby Chinese girl.” He once tried pulling my spare tyre which disappears when I stand up. “If you were one head taller, you could be a model,” he tells me. “Shame about the height. You have a great face.”

Oh, gee. Thank you very much. So since I can’t get any taller, I have to find a way to get slimmer in order to look taller. What have I not tried? Yes, I know. Surgery!

“You should take that cosmetic job in Sydney,” I say to His Royal Highness. “The pay is great and I can get free lipo!”

“I can’t operate on you,” he says.

Damn rules about not treating family or friends.

“I’m sure you’ll have a partner. He or she can lipo me,” I say, making sucking noises while pretending to vacuum my bum. “Just imagine. I’ll be proportionate for once.”

“Yes, you will,” he says with a smile. “But I’ll miss those spongey bits.”

15 easy tips to help you slash the weekly food budget.

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Estella

By Estella

The average Australian family spends around $200 per week on food. With prices set to climb due to increased retailing costs being passed on to the consumer, it makes sense to prune the weekly family grocery budget where possible.

A few weeks ago, I did the Simple Savings $21 challenge and came out financially ahead with just $6 over the recommended budget. Here’s what I did:

1) Ditch the recipes. Often, following a recipe calls for a complete grocery shop since many of the ingredients mentioned are ones we don’t use everyday. That week, I made soups and stir fries out of all the bits and bobs I found in my fridge and let me tell you, no one complained.

2) Survey the pantry. To bulk up what I found in the fridge, plus the handful of fresh ingredients I bought, I looked into my larder for tinned button mushrooms, tomatoes and beans. I put the button mushroom in a tomyam-type spicy soup, the base made from a selection of fragrant herbs and spices I found floating around in my fridge and the tinned tomatoes in a sauce I poured over fried tofu.

3) Slow cook food. This allows you to save time as well as money, as the slow-cooker makes light work of tenderising cheaper cuts of meat yet is one of the most economical appliances to run. My favourite slow-cooker meal is lamb shanks with tomatoes and olives but anything from beef rendang to chicken congee can be made in one too.

4) Double-up recipes. If you are going to take the time to make a curry, you might as well make two batches of it, so that you are guaranteed a meal if you are short on time. Perhaps, things like stews, soups and curries always seem to taste better the next day.

5) Use more vegetables. Apart from being good for your body, they’re also kinder on the wallet than meat. Buy what is in season as they taste best and if possible at a farmer’s market where prices are more reasonable.

6) Serve soup. This will reduce the amount of food consumed at each meal while warming you up in when the weather gets chilly. A pleasant side-effect of this is also that you maintain your weight without really trying. My favourite soups to serve with dinner are the classic ABC soup, a clear broth composed of chicken with carrot, potato and tomato, and mint soup, a chicken or anchovy based broth with handfuls of mint leaves and ribbons of beaten egg.

7) Buy generic. Things like flour, salt, sugar, rice, pasta, canned tuna…the list is endless, is the same regardless of whether you buy a branded item or a generic one. What you taste at the end is simply the result of cooking skills, as opposed to how expensive the ingredients are.

8) Cook your own steak. Many of my Aussie friends report spending up to $40 on a good steak a restaurant, but I think that’s excessive given that a good cut of meat cooked at home will produce the same result. Thanks to youtube, we can learn how to cook steak at home from the likes of Jamie Oliver no less.

9) Cook meat free. One or two meals focusing on lentils or eggs can give substantial savings. At my house, His Royal Highness can tell we’ve reached the end of the month when I whip up a big pot of dhal. At $3 a bag of lentils, one pot feeding four costs me at the most $1.50. This includes electricity to cook and the tomato and spices I throw in.

10) Buy without packaging. When you shop at your local supermarket, choose and bag your own fruit and vegetables. If you see the per 100gm price, you’ll notice that pre-packaged anything costs more.

11) Buy in bulk tins on special. This would include things like baked beans, tuna, chopped tomatoes for making bolognaise sauce, or if like me, you make a lot of stir-fries, tinned mushrooms for days when you don’t get to the supermarket.

12) Make your own cookies, bread, cakes from scratch unless you can score a pre-mix on sale. I used to buy only single chocolate chip cookies from Subway until I discovered how easy and cheap they are to make. Following the recipe on www.exclusivelyfood.com.au, I made 60 absolutely delicious, thumb to third finger sized chocolate chip cookies for $8, including electricity.

13) Ask your fishmonger or butcher to recommend produce. Most are only too happy to do this as part of their regular service as the more a customer knows what to do with what they’re buying, the more likely they are to buy it.

14) Share with others bulk buys of meat or vegetables. That way you get to leverage on your collective buying power, as opposed to paying a premium for a regular serve.

15) Study the catalogues. Supermarket chains advertise different specials every week. What you can’t find on offer in one, you’ll most likely find on offer in the other. You don’t even have to clog your mailbox with catalogues because many are available on-line.

Our weekend on the Gold Coast.

Posted on June 17, 2012 by Estella

By Estella

His Royal Highness and I had our honeymoon on the Gold Coast some ten and a half years ago. Back then, our accommodation was this dodgy twelfth-floor, one-bedroom apartment that looked like it doubled as a porn set from time to time; the whole place was covered in mirrors, the person in the neighbouring block could look right into our bathroom and TV-watching was the local wet T-shirt competition in progress, which caused me to hole up in the aforementioned bathroom for a good three hours in protest while His Royal Highness tried to sweet-talk me out of it.

Fortunately since then, our fortunes have improved. His Royal Highness, being as much a lover of luxury as I am, booked us into The Sheraton Mirage through www.wotif.com The name of the hotel alone had me anticipating the getaway for weeks.

His Royal Highness would have liked for us to stay at the Palazzo Versace next door, reputed to be Australia’s most expensive hotel, but since we have yet to reach that point where money is no object, we decided that The Sheraton Mirage which also backs onto the beach, is luxury enough for us. We were given a garden room, in most respects a regular 5 star hotel room, with the exception that the bath could easily accommodate the three of us.

The following pictures tell the rest of the story.