Well played, Singapore. Not only at the end of each night did you relentlessly stuff me until I waddled back to The Rivervale like a cross-eyed duck, but your strategy of playfully misplacing my luggage for over 72 hours was a nice touch, the disarming blow that made your initial victory possible. I bow to your tactics and intend to come back from Bangkok poised for sweet revenge. But know this: I still weigh .4 kg less than I did when I arrived. You have much work to do to win the war of the bulge, as I’m prepared at a moment’s notice to skip the MRT and opt instead to run to and fro to destinations, unsightliness be damned.
I know—during my last visit I was smug. Yang and Ling, armed with the knowledge that I ate like a wild hog tied down to a buffet bar serving fresh slop yet still left for home in November 2006 weighing less than I did when I arrived, have stepped up their game a notch.
With little to no sleep and no luggage, my merciless hosts escorted me to Banquet at Compass Point late Sunday morning. I thought it was simply routine when they plunked down a tray heavier than my carry-on bag stuffed with camera contraband upon the seating table. Its contents: roti prata, and a lot of it. It was then, studying their expressions and devilish grins that I realized I was the victim of foul play.
Knowing full well that I would have no other recourse than to scarf it down, chasing it with a cup of teh tarik—and do so with a smile, thank you very much—my hosts had played a card from a truly fiendish hand.
I was overmatched.
And then even dinner at Yang’s mum and dad’s place, a truly lovely gesture for which I am eternally grateful, was the site of unfair treatment of this particular ang moh, feeding into the very nature that may ultimately serve to destroy him.
Yang’s mom prepared the most appetising and visually drool-inducing spread of Asian-style food I’d ever seen in person, yet even this incredibly gracious and hospitable gesture was, in fact, yet another attempt to stuff the ang moh until he could do nothing but submit to the wholesome goodness of homemade Asian cuisine.
At least I was not alone. Yang and Ling were also victims of the very methods in which they wished to delude me. On the ride back home the three of us were so full we took turns tapping each other on the back, burping each other so we could fit into the elevator back home.
So Mrs. Foo, you deserve to share this victory alongside your country. I humbly bow to your expertise, and only hope I may prepare myself for our next encounter. Even your leftover beef rendang over sliced bread, which we ate the next night, decimated any chance of my bounce-back victory on Day Two. I am no match for you! The score for now:
Singapore and Mrs. Foo 1, Matt 0. (Yang and Ling are at approximately 0.5 by my scorecard, so I have the chance to catch up.)
Hah! I just started a betting pool at home and the odds are 10-1, in favor of Singapore. Sorry Matt, we all know you can not resist this type of food pressure. With a full year of salivating taste buds waiting to be unleashed on the amazing cuisine that Singapore has to offer, I must admit my money went down on Singapore. That was an impressive spread at Yang’s Mums, I sent a copy of the pic to Donald Trump and he was even a bit jealous! Take care and hope you are all well!
Golly Matt… it’s amazing u still look so slim given your appetite for good food =P
Matt’s been running / walking everywhere. On one occasion, after stuffing himself with roti pratas at Casuarina Curry at Upper Thomson, he walked (almost) all the way back to Sengkang.:)