Stories of KK

I suggested Bali. KK said, “Huh it’s a terrorist hotspot.” I suppose that rules out the whole of Indonesia. I've tried Philippines in the past, he's ruled that out too. I try to think of a nice, safe, familiar, nearby spot we can venture to for a budget June do. “Penang?” I hazard hopefully. “OK,” he says. I’ve been with the kids at least twice. Both times, KK never went. He’s only been to Penang once, when he was very young. We're there six days, two nights at Georgetown, three at Batu Ferringhi. We flew. Post-trip, I get everyone to write down their fave moments, fave foods and dislikes. KK’s fave spot: Penang Hill. I’ve always liked Penang Hill, and decided to bring everyone back again. The ride up the mountain in the fast funicular, the emergence into air which feels a degree or two cooler than the blistering heat below, the trees, the chill-out vibe. * The funicular I’ve noticed that KK just likes going up, up, up. Every place we go, if there’s a chance to ascend, he g...

It’s still steak. Thanks to blog archives, I realize KK’s obsession with cow meat truly stands  the test of time.  Five years later, he wants to up his steak game, and invests in more steak paraphernalia. The girls very excitedly crowd around me when I came back from rehearsal one day: “Mama, Papa bought a XX which costs $Y!” To which KK cuts in, “No lah it was discounted”. It doesn’t matter, really, he can spend his money however he wants. The reason I softly sigh is because I have to store these things. And I know I won’t use them. What would I do with a sexy chopping board, heavy cast-iron pan which would strain my violin-playing wrist, and why the hell would I want to go through the hassle of carefully pouring olive oil from the glass bottle it already comes in, into another albeit prettier one? I think the impetus was after we ate steak from a rather nice little coffeeshop restaurant out in the Pandan Gardens boondocks, right after trampolining. Part of a HDB block, ...

  What were we doing at a European car showroom on a Wednesday afternoon? It’s all terribly exciting, because we were there to collect a brand-new vehicle. But it wasn’t a car. It was a bike. A motorbike. A 1,200cc BMW motorbike, model R1200R. How did we get here? One, it was necessary. With his freelance work, KK found himself having to travel to places in Singapore with no buses or MRT stations and which no taxi driver wants to go to at all sorts of odd hours. Like in far-off Mandai, or to Jurong Island. Can he take the family car? I said yes, he can have it, the kids and I can bus and cab around. That was my preferred option. He said no. Can he get a second car? Both of us agree, no way. Two, it’s on his bucket list. He's missed riding since he sold off the Harley nine years ago. Since he needs a bike, he will get one that he wants. Yeah, he did the whole checking out second-hand bikes thing, but all his research ultimately led him to BMW. In preparation for re-entry i...

Their mysterious father. KK’s childhood is sketchy and vague. His constant rejoinder: I don’t want to remember it. Even I don’t know much about it apart from the fact that he was poor. Which is perhaps why he doesn't want to remember it. There are few photos of KK as a child. Actually there are only three, along with a total of three precious passport snaps. Two show him with animals. He’s always been an animal person. He likes them and they like him (unlike me). * Brother, father, KK * In Segamat, Malaysia, visiting the extended family * Ping Ping and An An ( 平 平 and  安安) On his childhood he said: “When I looked at my parents I know that I must work hard. I knew that I must depend on myself and not on them.” He grew up in a Boon Lay two-room flat, the middle child with an elder brother and younger sister. At night, swarms of flies and cockroaches would sometimes invade the flat. Till today he is terrified of roaches. Jumps on a chair when he sees one. He went to school at the now-...

We loaded up on meat in Darwin. Steaks, lamb, pork. * Choon's lamb Inspired, KK dreamt of making the perfect steak in-house. He watched Gordon Ramsey, he watched Jamie Oliver, he put them together and rehearsed in his mind the steak steps. First off, like most men would, he spent a bomb on a load of kitchen weaponry to prepare for the steak coronation. He bought a pepper mill, steak knives, nice forks, tongs, all from horribly expensive WMF. Of course I already have all these things in our kitchen. He only wants better ones. * In the back, my humble pepper next to the great silver WMF mill See, he needs great equipment to make great food. Then he asked me to buy inch-thick steak. Oh boy. Knowing him, I buy a terrific cut of beef, thickest slab I see. $22 for two pieces. Straight home after cycling, sweat still running down his face, he launches into his steak cook-out. Kids are all hyped up. It’s a big event with a whole lot of build-up. Day is the kitchen hand. Both boys had read ...

Nothing much fazes me. But my eyebrows involuntarily shot to my hairline when I saw Day’s Chinese spelling list. (Yes it has to be Chinese)    I mean. Come on. The boy is 6. He has not officially started school and I, who have undergone 12 years of Chinese education, cannot read some of the words in his spelling list . (Admittedly I am crap but still.) I would have let him sink or swim.  I saw it as the teacher trying to give the kids some exposure, and while I might have spent some time going through the words, I thought it was more important to get him to speak and like the language.  However, KK rose to the challenge. In true problem-fixing man style, he strode into Popular and purchased a Besta electronic dictionary. The sort with a stylus which allows you to trace the correct order of strokes, and which very helpfully vocalizes words you write in in case you don’t know how to read it.  “It’s more for us lah,” he intoned, when I protested the $400 transactio...

When my brother called me recently, one of the first things he asked was: “So what are you all eating?” A most valid question. Considering that instant noodles are my forte. (I did cook instant noodles for our first meal here, in Sydney)  KK has been doing all the cooking.  The one time I tried to cook here – a fried noodle dish – I cut up all the ingredients beautifully, set them in their plates and then stared. I had to think about whether to throw in bacon or the carrots first. In the end, I waited for him to put ladle to the pan.  I’m ashamed to say, he is a much better, or rather, a much more comfortable cook than I am. He’s not a great cook, no Iron Chef here. But he manages to make do with whatever is available and concoct edible and basic stuff. Here he’s doing up chicken soup. I’m once again most ashamed to say, soup was a mystery to me. I had no idea what or how to make soup. Night after night, thanks to my parents and the maid, scrumptious Cantonese soups (the ...