Incurable Disease

A doctor was not necessary. I knew the diagnosis. I have an incurable disease. For which there is no conceivable cure. Jenny Craig, back away from this blog.

It's called eyeshungrierthanstomachitis.

After the massive pig-out last night, a sensible person would either diet or have something super healthy. No one ever called me sensible. I blame them.

It took me almost all day to try to figure out what I should eat today to balance yesterday's excesses. The fact that it has been storming non-stop today also limited my choices. I really was not keen to trek the few blocks to the food courts. I knew I would be drenched even with an umbrella just from that short walk.

So by the time the rains let up, I decided to dash to the nearest food court. Armed with my trusting brolly, I skipped past puddles, tip toed across muddy paths and tried not to skid ungainfully on wet, slippery pavements. By the time I reached the food court, I was windblown and slightly damp. Note to self: Tie hair up when it is windy and storming. Duh.

The first inclination was to get something hot and soupy since it was such a cold and horrible day. I was full of good intentions. Soup. Hot. Maybe vegetables soup. Or fish noodles soup. Yeah. Healthy.

I walked towards the noodle soup stall. I passed a stall with food porn. I tell you. Food porn is evil. EVIL, I tell you!!!

There was a picture of delectably glistening dark noodles. Char kway teow. Bad. Char kway teow is bad. I turned my head quickly and silently made the sign of the cross.

Next stall. Large pictures of orange and cream plastered across the next stall. What is up with that? Have they not heard that less is more? What is with the large, lurid pictures that lure the innocent and meek (yes, I said meek! I am meek!) to the devil's temptation? Otherwise known as ... LAKSA.

There was my Achilles heel. Laksa.

It's hot.

Soupy.

There are vegetables. Beansprouts and laksa leaves are vegetables! OK, so they hardly fill a tablespoon but there are vegetables!

OK, so laksa is not healthy. But three out of four ain't bad!

That was my rationale. I caved and bought a bowl of laksa. With extra cockles. What we would call a hamful laksa.



Laksa ... creamy coconut milk with hot, spicy sambal cooked to a bright, swirly cream and orange glory.

Mounds of glossy cockles succulent and blushing through the milky broth.

Glistening white noodles curled around slices of fish cakes.

Plump, earthy looking fried beancurds swollen with the juices of the creamy yet spicy coconut broth. Just one bite and the burst of flavours on your tongue takes you on a decadent journey of sensations. Your eyes widen at the hot spiciness. Your throat clenches with the flow of coconut cream. Your face turns red because you did not expect the laksa to be so hot. Your hand tembles as it reaches for the glass of Ribena.

I love laksa. The spicier, the better. The more hamful, the better.

Frankly I can do without the fish cakes as I am not a real fan of those. But extra sambal, extra ham, extra beansprouts and super lemak (creamy & rich in Peranakan speak) broth, all combine to make me ecstatically sated.

Then the guilt hits me. I repent. I will not eat laksa again. Today.

I will just drink lots of Ribena. Because as they say ... it's good for you.

What I should have eaten instead of laksa.

Photo from http://www.femail.com.au/ribena-for-grown-ups.htm

Categories - Rambling Prose