Feast on Friday

"God will provide the victuals, but He will not cook the dinner"

An English Proverb

Luckily, I know some people that will do something God won't.

Last Friday, I was invited to a dinner party at Yin Yee's nook located in some very out-of-the-way and creepy neighborhood near Sonia Clinic (where I'll be going tomorrow or the day after to interview someone for my next post, by the way).

I said yes, naturally. I have never turned down food in my life.

As usual, I was charged with the very important task of providing drinks for the evening (mainly because I am a total incompetent at doing anything else). This time, I received the additional charge of chauffeuring Patrick to the venue because he was still on crutches. No, it's still not a good idea to ask him why he jumped off the balcony.

In addition, I also I received a special request from Yin Yee for the loan of my amp and speakers because hers "wasn't loud enough" - and I was told to bring my camera as well. At this point, I began wondering at what sort of dinner party she was really throwing.

So there I was, with a carton of Activ apple juice and a humongous bottle of 7-Up in my left hand, Patrick attached to my right, and my entire speaker set in a bag strapped to my back - and no idea whatsoever on how to get to Yin Yee's place. We hired an auto and asked the driver whether he could take us to where she lives - but he didn't seem to have heard of Yin Yee or this elusive house of hers before. So in the end, we had to call and ask for her address. You know all those myths about guys being too proud to ask for directions?

Well, they are based on me.

Okay, I'm tired of writing. Here's some pictures for you to ogle at;

See those papers underneath that big, stainless steel bowl? They are our exam papers.

When we got there, they haven't finished cooking yet. Yew Kong was the night's chef-in-chief.

Me, the meat carver. I volunteered for the job so I can sneak some into my mouth while we were still waiting for the rest of the dinner to turn up.

All the pictures were taken by Vincent. I surrendered my snapper to him as soon as I arrived.

I am ashamed to say that he knows how to work my camera better than me. All I know is how to make crappy pictures look marginally passable using Photoshop CS2. I'll have to sit down and have a thorough go-over with the instruction manual one day. As soon as I manage to locate it, of course. You know all those myths about guys being slobs and not knowing where they left most of their stuff?

Well, they are based on me as well.

Here's the menu line-up. Behold and slobber, plebeians!

Crispy chicken with mayonnaise. Lightly and professionally burnt. Me likes.

Eggplant with a generous sprinkling of golden fried garlic.

I don't care what everyone says. Eggplants do not qualify as a vegetable. Why, they are not even green!

Potato, mushroom, onion and luncheon meat stew. I'm making up names as I go along. Bear with me.

Fried luncheon meat omelette.

There's more luncheon meat than eggs in there - precisely how I like it. The red, semi-clotted-blood gloop on it was ketchup, which Yin Yee splattered over the dish despite of my very vocal and vehement protests. I retaliated by eating only the ketchup-free portions, leaving the haemorrhagic nightmare for Yin Yee's dining pleasure.

Anyway, if I was the one preparing the luncheon meat, I'd slice them paper thin and fry them till they are as crispy as potato chips - and burn them slightly for that awesome charcoal taste. You know all those myths about guys being more prone to contracting cancer from eating so much burnt and ultra-barbequed meat?

Well, I am determined to prove it true.

And here's the picture we were made to sit for even though it was already 9.00 pm. We were so hungry by then that we could easily wolf down a couple of zebras and a hippo salad between us - but noo-ooo, we had to pose in front of all these delectable edibles while pretending to look as if we were not at all famished half-to-death;

Vincent actually planned our positions and arranged the dishes for this shot. Now that's professionalism!

Look at Patrick (that guy in white as well, about two heads shorter than me). He's already parked right in front of that pot of peanut-and-something-else-I-don't-remember soup. You may not notice it but my sepet¹ eyes were already trained on that pot, ready to snatch it from under Pat's nose and make a break for it.

And the best part was he wouldn't have been able to stop me. His crutches were way out of reach (there, in the left side of the picture leaning against the cabinet).

Vincent, if you're reading this post,
can you please tell me why you quietly took so many pictures of Lai Yin's hair?

People mistake her for Stephen Chow in Kung Fu Hustle all the time.

In fact, if you check out all the camwhore pictures Vincent took in the period of time we spent waiting for dinner to get ready, 90% from the total batch have Lai Yin in them. That sounds migh-ty suspicious to me.

Oh yeah, there are also actually a lot of pictures of me camwhoring along with the gang but don't worry - they will not see daylight, I promise. I'll destroy them as soon as I find the time to do it.

Dinner was AAAWESOME, by the way. We only managed to finish half of everything because our stomachs shrank so much during the torturous wait. I'm not sure whether that is really possible - it wasn't covered last year in our Anatomy lecture classes.

Sooo, when is the next dinner party? I get to prepare the luncheon meat next time, okay? You guys won't regret it, really!

Guys?



P.S. I still have the rest of the camwhore pictures with me (yes, including that über-embarassing one of Yin Yee and the luncheon meat omelette). Come and get it from me.

P.P.S. My amp and speakers were employed to play a series of sappy love songs all through dinner, much to Patrick's distaste. Also, we used them watch a movie I recommended - and which subsequently caused everyone to fell asleep watching it. Bah



The Charred-Food-Induced-Cancer poster boy,
k0k s3n w4i

¹ Colloquial Malay word for the oriental slit-eyes I am bloody proud of, thank you very much.