SECTIONCODE: 45- food-utt
SECTION: food
SUBSECTION: under the table
HED:
SUBHED:
STARS:
P/Q: I was getting too old to wake up with my face in a plant
W/C:
TEXT:
The longest I've gone without a drink in Hong Kong was 22 days. And when it was over I thought it was a stupid exercise to partake. Drinking is entertainment, and I was bored without it. Fact is I like drinking, I like the taste of alcohol, I just didn't like going retard then being a zombie during normal people hours. Plus, I thought I was getting too old to wake up with my face in a plant.
But drinking is good. Drinking is life. A glass of wine a day may boost life expectancy by five years, say some uncredited doctors somewhere. So rather than having a traditional dry month this January, I'm going to drink a drink a day. But sensibly, with wine not whiskey. This also means that January will be an expensive month as having a glass a day will equal being ripped off in most places, (Soho being the worst offender as a glass of wine can sometimes cost more than double the price of the entire bottle). So I've asked my friend, Wine Chap, to have a drink with me so I can pick his brain. Wine Chap (winechap.com) is a service that pits wine lists against wine lists. Their motto: "We spend our time poring over lists, so the only pouring you need to do is in your glass."
Since their arrival in Hong Kong last fall, they've produced an additional service that was probably not intended, but a great byproduct; they've unveiled the ridiculous mark up of wines in restaurants to the public, some over 400 per cent, and over the past few months this has forced some to reevaluate their wine programmes and reprice.
I asked him to take me on a mini-wine crawl of sorts to seek the best value wines by the glass around town. This kicks off a series of columns devoted to great wines by the glass. We kick off with Hong Kong Island.
Our first stop is, surprisingly, Tapeo for a glass of La Guita Manzanilla, Palomino Fino ($55 per glass). They have a sign that reads: "Sherry is the English corruption of the word Jerez". I like this place already. We have a glass of Fino with a plate of lomo (Spanish dry-cured pork loin) and plump white anchovies at the bar. I'm not sure I've ever had a better starter to an evening than this. Wine Chap agrees, "There is no better aperitif than a glass of Fino. A dry, crisp, and slightly salty style of Sherry.”
One down and four more glasses to go, (yes, I did say one glass a day, but this is research people). We head for a glass of Cabernet Franc Rosé, Couly-Dutheil Chinon Rosé ‘René Couly’ 2008, ($78 per glass). It shocked me to learn this was being served at Lian in IFC Mall. The second shocker was we had rosé with ox cheek in red curry and French loaf. But again, it was the perfect pairing. “It’s dry but oily, and soft with berry fruit and floral aromas," he says. "This perfumed rosé from Loire Valley has enough weight to deal with chillis without either the wine or the food being over-powering."
As we cross town to The Pawn, he tells me, "I'll make a journey for this wine. This wine is as good an example as you can find in Hong Kong today." I'm getting excited, and full. We skip the pasta course and go straight for the Dolcetto d’Alba 2008 Bruno Giacosa ($95 per glass). In his wine lexicon he says, "A cultural understanding of wine is really the key to getting maximum enjoyment. A simple denominator is New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is best enjoyed with raw fish or oysters on a terrace in the summer. So when and why to drink an unusual grape variety like Dolcetto is important. It’s a simple grape, normally un-oaked and designed to drink young and fresh. That way it retains its perfume and juicy damson plumy fruits."
A word must be inserted that when wine is well-matched with food, both brings out the best in each other. Such is the classic coupling of cheese and wine. This evening's starlet a glass is the Côteaux Du Layon Les Rouannières Dom. C. Papin 1997 Chenin Blanc, ($210 per glass) served at the best kept secret in Central, the haute-cosy bar at Caprice, Four Seasons. Wine Chap's noted, "This is the most outstanding cheeses available in Hong Kong, and this wine in particular is unique. It’s quite floral and quince note, but has high acidity and minerality, which help it deal with salty blue cheese. It’s nothing but a noble experience."
Even gluttionists reach their limits, and I hit mine about three restaurants ago. But one more glass is in order, this time, sans food pairing. "I like to finish the meal in high, but often a glass of heavy red or a sweet dessert wine can really finish you off. So a fresh and clean glass of Prosecco is the perfect lift," he says. We head to Posto Pubblico for a glass of Nino Franco Prosecco, ($95 per glass). Here I get a lesson on the other sparkling wine. "Prosecco is not Champagne and people should stop comparing the two,” he says. It is different to Champagne because it’s less sparking," he says. "There is a lot of average stuff out there– but this is regarded as the best Prosecco producer there is.
I'll drink to that. I’ll drink to all of that.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The longest I've gone without alcohol in Hong Kong was 22 days. And after my fast was over, I thought, well that was stupid. Fact is I like drinking, I like the taste of alcohol. And just because I've woken up in a plant a few times, slumber from too many Manhattans, shouldn't prevent em to stop drinking altogether. So I thought I will stick with wines, but drop my whiskey habit.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
It's one thing to read about it, and another to actually see it.
New York is really depressing to see. I've never seen it so bad. I've walked into a half empty Nobu, We made last minute reservations at Sushi Yusada, there was now ait at Cheesecake factory, where there was usually an one hour wait. Upmarket food retailer Dean and Deluca had four shoppers on a recent Tuesday evening as the work day closed. We all looked at eachother wondering if in fact the store was closed.
Trends towards gourmetaizing the humble burger, hot dog, sheshkabob stand or a bahn mi is not without intention. It's asserting we have superior taste without the budget.These are modern luxuries; we can't afford to buy the 'it' car, but we can afford this meal as luxury.
New yorkers are not going to let down their air of taste-makers.
These are hard times, though you wouldn't know it if you were in Asia. In 2009, there was a parade of world-reknown chefs touring through our parts looking for a oppurtunity. Sam Mason of Taylor's in New York said this at a guest chef event at Amber: "I'd like to open a place here to support my restaurant in New York."
Hong Kong restaurants are still quite full, and though you might not see a top tier wine being order as often any more, the dining rooms are still quite healthy. And that message is being spread across the wordl, especially to top-branded chefs whose business model relies on building a restuarant based on their names, and who loves brands more than Hong Kong?
The message is also that we are willing to spend $988 per person at dinner on a Wednesday night, and that is still socially acceptable to do so in these parts.
Same in London.
My dad who doesn't really care if he is dining at the hottest eatery or having a bagel in his car, was standing in line at McDonald's one morning. There was a man in front of him who was trying to redeem a hot breakfast with a coupon, which had expired the day before. The cashier would not honor it. The man said, what am I going to do? I don't have enough money. This was his only meal of the day. Ultimately, my dad purchased his set meal.
What are reviews about: it's about knowing if you should spend your money with an unknown product. Not about taste making.
New York is really depressing to see. I've never seen it so bad. I've walked into a half empty Nobu, We made last minute reservations at Sushi Yusada, there was now ait at Cheesecake factory, where there was usually an one hour wait. Upmarket food retailer Dean and Deluca had four shoppers on a recent Tuesday evening as the work day closed. We all looked at eachother wondering if in fact the store was closed.
Trends towards gourmetaizing the humble burger, hot dog, sheshkabob stand or a bahn mi is not without intention. It's asserting we have superior taste without the budget.These are modern luxuries; we can't afford to buy the 'it' car, but we can afford this meal as luxury.
New yorkers are not going to let down their air of taste-makers.
These are hard times, though you wouldn't know it if you were in Asia. In 2009, there was a parade of world-reknown chefs touring through our parts looking for a oppurtunity. Sam Mason of Taylor's in New York said this at a guest chef event at Amber: "I'd like to open a place here to support my restaurant in New York."
Hong Kong restaurants are still quite full, and though you might not see a top tier wine being order as often any more, the dining rooms are still quite healthy. And that message is being spread across the wordl, especially to top-branded chefs whose business model relies on building a restuarant based on their names, and who loves brands more than Hong Kong?
The message is also that we are willing to spend $988 per person at dinner on a Wednesday night, and that is still socially acceptable to do so in these parts.
Same in London.
My dad who doesn't really care if he is dining at the hottest eatery or having a bagel in his car, was standing in line at McDonald's one morning. There was a man in front of him who was trying to redeem a hot breakfast with a coupon, which had expired the day before. The cashier would not honor it. The man said, what am I going to do? I don't have enough money. This was his only meal of the day. Ultimately, my dad purchased his set meal.
What are reviews about: it's about knowing if you should spend your money with an unknown product. Not about taste making.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
33
33 was the age of XXX, XXX, XXX when they XXX, XXX, XXX. This is to quote a reliable source, Dan Brown. 33 is also the age where I have witness men panic.
Having hopped over the thirties wall and watching carefully how my other girlfriends splattered over the otherside of that wall was scary to watch, but now I'm seeing it again, this this time to my delight, with the majority of my guy friends.
When guys panic, they are pretty proactive about it. One is interviewing potential wives by having them live with him for two weeks at a time to see if they are compatable.
When a guy's in heat, I'm not sure if I should stay away or embrace it. I offer my help to Ben, who spend two hours over dinner talking about how he is looking for the one and how he needs to start popping out kids. Ben is my ex in some fashion by the way. I offer to line up my single girls, the top guns smart-successful-marriable girls, against the wall for him to choose from. But he was slightly offended by the offer, "I can get girls no problem." So do I listen or do I offer solutions I ask you?
My own boyfriend is 33, and I throw the theory that men begin their panic at 33. And though I wasn't speakin the female language of double entredras, he understandably sees it that way. He remains very silent on the issue, but he has said that he has thought about marry this year.
I wondered about the factors, the pivot success in their careers; the purchasing of a home and empty of anyone to share his kingdom with; the violtility of the markets and the uncertainty of whether he can capture a hot girl if he loses his job; mother, (and also older sisters).
Over a Korean grill at Sorabol, I was having this same conversation with my favourite married couple Andrew and Clara. "33 is the new 28," Andrew said. "It used to be that guys thought they had to be married by 30, so at 28, he is looking at 30. But that bar got pushed, and now the accepttable age to get married is 35, therefor 33. Also, after a certain age you become the 'old guy' hunting," Andrew cringed. "None of us want to be in that position."
"Are you thinking about marriage Angie," Clara asked.
"I have to say, pushing 30 I was. Post 30, I'm not as excited over the prospect," I said. "I kinda just want to get my first marriage over with." I joke, but there is truth to my word. The panic is there, to be committed at 30, but then I know very well now that that would've been my first marriage since it was based on panic, and not sensibility. Once 30 comes and goes, the panic subsides (well for me), and I would advise any future girlfriend I meet to be cautious with those months leading up to 30. Don't make any rash decisions then, you have no idea what force is driving you.
And that is the same message to take to my 33 year-old male friends.
Best to make the most important decision of your life, choosing a life partner, when you are at your most sober.
So I'm going to wait, just a little bit longer until I can make rash, grown-up decisions. Because, though jaded as I am, I do only want to walk down the aisle once.
Having hopped over the thirties wall and watching carefully how my other girlfriends splattered over the otherside of that wall was scary to watch, but now I'm seeing it again, this this time to my delight, with the majority of my guy friends.
When guys panic, they are pretty proactive about it. One is interviewing potential wives by having them live with him for two weeks at a time to see if they are compatable.
When a guy's in heat, I'm not sure if I should stay away or embrace it. I offer my help to Ben, who spend two hours over dinner talking about how he is looking for the one and how he needs to start popping out kids. Ben is my ex in some fashion by the way. I offer to line up my single girls, the top guns smart-successful-marriable girls, against the wall for him to choose from. But he was slightly offended by the offer, "I can get girls no problem." So do I listen or do I offer solutions I ask you?
My own boyfriend is 33, and I throw the theory that men begin their panic at 33. And though I wasn't speakin the female language of double entredras, he understandably sees it that way. He remains very silent on the issue, but he has said that he has thought about marry this year.
I wondered about the factors, the pivot success in their careers; the purchasing of a home and empty of anyone to share his kingdom with; the violtility of the markets and the uncertainty of whether he can capture a hot girl if he loses his job; mother, (and also older sisters).
Over a Korean grill at Sorabol, I was having this same conversation with my favourite married couple Andrew and Clara. "33 is the new 28," Andrew said. "It used to be that guys thought they had to be married by 30, so at 28, he is looking at 30. But that bar got pushed, and now the accepttable age to get married is 35, therefor 33. Also, after a certain age you become the 'old guy' hunting," Andrew cringed. "None of us want to be in that position."
"Are you thinking about marriage Angie," Clara asked.
"I have to say, pushing 30 I was. Post 30, I'm not as excited over the prospect," I said. "I kinda just want to get my first marriage over with." I joke, but there is truth to my word. The panic is there, to be committed at 30, but then I know very well now that that would've been my first marriage since it was based on panic, and not sensibility. Once 30 comes and goes, the panic subsides (well for me), and I would advise any future girlfriend I meet to be cautious with those months leading up to 30. Don't make any rash decisions then, you have no idea what force is driving you.
And that is the same message to take to my 33 year-old male friends.
Best to make the most important decision of your life, choosing a life partner, when you are at your most sober.
So I'm going to wait, just a little bit longer until I can make rash, grown-up decisions. Because, though jaded as I am, I do only want to walk down the aisle once.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
50 years (final)
SECTIONCODE: 44-food-utt
SECTION: food
SUBSECTION: under the table
HED:
SUBHED:
STARS:
P/Q: Futuristic postal workers have delivered this email to you because I asked it to or because I am dead.
W/C:
TEXT:
Written: December 2009, Deliver: December 2059
Subject: What if
Dear Future Self,
When you get this I hope you are sitting down. This is Angie Wong writing to you from 2009. futuris.tk, a site created by futuristic postal workers, has delivered this email to you because I asked it to or because I am dead.
It’s the last days of 2009, and I’m having a bit of a reflection period looking backward and forward. I haven't thought about what the future me will look like since I was 18 and strapped to a chair for a tattoo. But 2009 has given me pause and allowed ample time to think about the future.
I wonder what kind of world you are living in. Is it better now than it was 50 years ago? Was it how Al Gore predicted it would be? What got me on this line of thought was something that happened 50 years ago today:
My current and I went for caffeine and took in the weekend papers. I dived for the soft core news and read about restaurants abroad while he went for the review and sport pages. I gave death eyes to the columnist I used to love reading as I had just discovered his words are paid for by advertisers. Sunday papers are my diet of current affairs.
At the back of one weekend magazine I was taking in an advert, this season’s Tiffany holiday campaign. It was a full page photo of the back of a well-groomed man holding that internationally recognisable blue box, eagerly awaiting the door to open, and his answer. "You like that ad, don’t you?" my current lowered his paper to ask. "It calls to me," I responded. He kissed my shoulder and we shared a fuzzy feeling. As we laid head to head all I could think of was how this moment was sponsored by Tiffany.
So many of life’s big moments are sponsored by brands today I don’t know if I naturally feel emotions or if it was thought up by a really smart person on Madison Avenue who’s taught me to go warm and fuzzy at the thought of aqua blue. My worry for future years is whether this life is actual or manufactured.
I’ve met people named Mercedes, Pret, and Chanel. My friend in school was named after his parent’s favourite brand of toilet paper; my sister was named after a burger chain; my first boss was named after a car that her parents couldn’t afford. Tissues are Kleenex, cotton swabs are Q-tips, copies are Xeroxes. Google is a company as well as a verb. Every item on my desk, everything I’m wearing, has a branding budget of $100 million or more. Our generation might be the first to have entirely been brought up from birth on the language of brands. So, 50 years on, I have this to ask: how did you turn out? Did you have real moments, or did you have Kodak moments?
I hope you’ve read the books you wanted, and travelled to the places you’ve wanted, because, from where I’m standing, seeing the world, experiencing first-hand experiences, and coming to your own conclusions through reading and listening to multiple sources may be the only chance we get to be a real, actual person with real, actual thoughts today.
So what kind of life did it turn out to be Angie Wong?
In closing, there are a few things you need to know, or rather be reminded of: Those lumpy bits, that's from eating straight pork fat in your youth. And all those obsessive tendencies turned out to be a good thing didn't it? Time did heal all –you can’t even remember their names I bet! Turns out you didn't need all those shoes, did you?
Future me, did you marry for love, convenience or money? Was it love at first sight or love in hindsight? Have you spawned? Are you still climbing every mountain/ swimming every ocean/ crossing every desert? Who is making you do that? What's his name? Have you lived up to your potential like you had promised or have you forgotten what those were? Are you still a trouble maker? I hope you are doing exactly what you were doing 50 years ago, but maybe with a bit more grace. ; )
Wish you were here. Loving life.
Me.
SECTION: food
SUBSECTION: under the table
HED:
SUBHED:
STARS:
P/Q: Futuristic postal workers have delivered this email to you because I asked it to or because I am dead.
W/C:
TEXT:
Written: December 2009, Deliver: December 2059
Subject: What if
Dear Future Self,
When you get this I hope you are sitting down. This is Angie Wong writing to you from 2009. futuris.tk, a site created by futuristic postal workers, has delivered this email to you because I asked it to or because I am dead.
It’s the last days of 2009, and I’m having a bit of a reflection period looking backward and forward. I haven't thought about what the future me will look like since I was 18 and strapped to a chair for a tattoo. But 2009 has given me pause and allowed ample time to think about the future.
I wonder what kind of world you are living in. Is it better now than it was 50 years ago? Was it how Al Gore predicted it would be? What got me on this line of thought was something that happened 50 years ago today:
My current and I went for caffeine and took in the weekend papers. I dived for the soft core news and read about restaurants abroad while he went for the review and sport pages. I gave death eyes to the columnist I used to love reading as I had just discovered his words are paid for by advertisers. Sunday papers are my diet of current affairs.
At the back of one weekend magazine I was taking in an advert, this season’s Tiffany holiday campaign. It was a full page photo of the back of a well-groomed man holding that internationally recognisable blue box, eagerly awaiting the door to open, and his answer. "You like that ad, don’t you?" my current lowered his paper to ask. "It calls to me," I responded. He kissed my shoulder and we shared a fuzzy feeling. As we laid head to head all I could think of was how this moment was sponsored by Tiffany.
So many of life’s big moments are sponsored by brands today I don’t know if I naturally feel emotions or if it was thought up by a really smart person on Madison Avenue who’s taught me to go warm and fuzzy at the thought of aqua blue. My worry for future years is whether this life is actual or manufactured.
I’ve met people named Mercedes, Pret, and Chanel. My friend in school was named after his parent’s favourite brand of toilet paper; my sister was named after a burger chain; my first boss was named after a car that her parents couldn’t afford. Tissues are Kleenex, cotton swabs are Q-tips, copies are Xeroxes. Google is a company as well as a verb. Every item on my desk, everything I’m wearing, has a branding budget of $100 million or more. Our generation might be the first to have entirely been brought up from birth on the language of brands. So, 50 years on, I have this to ask: how did you turn out? Did you have real moments, or did you have Kodak moments?
I hope you’ve read the books you wanted, and travelled to the places you’ve wanted, because, from where I’m standing, seeing the world, experiencing first-hand experiences, and coming to your own conclusions through reading and listening to multiple sources may be the only chance we get to be a real, actual person with real, actual thoughts today.
So what kind of life did it turn out to be Angie Wong?
In closing, there are a few things you need to know, or rather be reminded of: Those lumpy bits, that's from eating straight pork fat in your youth. And all those obsessive tendencies turned out to be a good thing didn't it? Time did heal all –you can’t even remember their names I bet! Turns out you didn't need all those shoes, did you?
Future me, did you marry for love, convenience or money? Was it love at first sight or love in hindsight? Have you spawned? Are you still climbing every mountain/ swimming every ocean/ crossing every desert? Who is making you do that? What's his name? Have you lived up to your potential like you had promised or have you forgotten what those were? Are you still a trouble maker? I hope you are doing exactly what you were doing 50 years ago, but maybe with a bit more grace. ; )
Wish you were here. Loving life.
Me.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
33
33 is the magic number. And not just because Dan Brown said it in his book The Lost Symbol (Yes, I read it, and liked it). In this day and age, I've watched my girlfriends go through their terrible 30s, and now I'm witnessing my guy friends hit their panicking 33s.
Five guys near and dear to my heart, I would consider to be my closest, some of whom I call 'the voice of reason in my head', one of whom I call my boyfriend, have all hit a brick way all at the same time. 33. This is the age, in this place, I found in my yuppie circles, to be the age when men are looking for a wife and family.
I was having dinner with one my nearest and dearest, and also exboyfriend, and he was upset he just ended things with a girl and all he wants to do is find a wife and have kids.
Why couldn't he hit that wall while we were dating?
Another dear friend said this: "I'm just tired of it all. I'm so ready to settle down. I'm interviewing potential wives now.
And this is the event: They buy a house. The source of independence, the living proof he is a provider, but he has no one to provide for. Like woman and their shapely child-birthing hips, and shapely wit, we throw up these objects to find a catch.
Is it really all that simple? Guy provides, girls need to feel provided for? And when that magic number hits for both of them, it's magic.
So find a guy toward the end of home construction and be present when he realises how empty his nest is without you there..
Five guys near and dear to my heart, I would consider to be my closest, some of whom I call 'the voice of reason in my head', one of whom I call my boyfriend, have all hit a brick way all at the same time. 33. This is the age, in this place, I found in my yuppie circles, to be the age when men are looking for a wife and family.
I was having dinner with one my nearest and dearest, and also exboyfriend, and he was upset he just ended things with a girl and all he wants to do is find a wife and have kids.
Why couldn't he hit that wall while we were dating?
Another dear friend said this: "I'm just tired of it all. I'm so ready to settle down. I'm interviewing potential wives now.
And this is the event: They buy a house. The source of independence, the living proof he is a provider, but he has no one to provide for. Like woman and their shapely child-birthing hips, and shapely wit, we throw up these objects to find a catch.
Is it really all that simple? Guy provides, girls need to feel provided for? And when that magic number hits for both of them, it's magic.
So find a guy toward the end of home construction and be present when he realises how empty his nest is without you there..
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