Upwards Part 1

Somewhere last year, around the month of May (I think), I accidentally drowned my trusty mobile sidekick (long story). I was quite heartbroken because I had grown really attached to that little lump of metal, and we'd gone through quite a few major life events together. You can read the blogpost I'd written all the way back in July 2008 when I first got it here. Anyway, I decided to replace my trusty mobile sidekick with a new, more high tech one. My new sidekick's a Galaxy SII, and I got it last July, back when it was the newest, fastest, most awe-inducing gadget on the market. I've been very happy with it so far, almost proud at times, and it's very rarely not within an easy arm's reach.

One of the biggest perks of having a smartphone is its photo-taking abilities, and the photography apps that come with it. I have a few pet subjects I like taking pictures of, such as food (I take a lot of food pictures), my fingernails (I've been painting them a different shade each week, but sometimes I change shades fortnightly if I really like the current shade), nature stuff like flowers and textures and stuff like that. There's also the random shots that might make me crack up but have everyone else scratching their heads and looking around for an explanation. But one of my faves is taking pictures of the sky. Not necessarily the sky, but it's a series of shots I describe as "upwards". I think we spend so much time being consumed by what's around us, that sometimes we just forget to look up. (I like looking down at the ground too, but for purposes of this blogpost we'll just focus on looking up.)

Here are some of my fave shots, which I've previously uploaded on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Figured I've got enough to start collecting them in a series. So this is "Upwards Part 1":

I'm a little bit frustrated with the color representation; these pictures look so much better on my mobile, but I'm guessing it's because of the Galaxy SII's Super AMOLED Plus display, which makes everything look heaps more pretty. They're still quite pretty here, but I feel they could be sharper and more brilliant, but oh well, that's what my Pentax is for.

More pictures to come in the future! We've only just begun, my trusty mobile sidekick and I! Cheers, y'all!

Mushi pan!

I first learnt about mushi pan and what it was about a month or two ago, and I was immediately intrigued. I think it started out with the urge to bake simple muffins, but all of them required baking, which would be inconvenient, so I was looking for a cake that could be steamed rather than baked. I did my research by visiting several blogs and some cooking websites, and took note of the main ingredients (the 'common' ones that would appear in each recipe).

Mushi pan is a Japanese steamed cake and draws comparisons to steamed puddings, and is typically eaten as a snack (and is really popular with children). I was pretty grossed out at the thought of pudding, because I don't like the texture of soggy bread, but I thought it sounded too good to pass up, and this evening I finally decided to give it a go. All went well until I realized I couldn't locate the baking powder in the kitchen, and I left the bowl of dry ingredients in my bedroom (don't ask) and went out for dinner. I managed to grab a small container of baking powder from the supermarket, and eagerly anticipated the amazing cakes and cookies and yummy food stuff I would be able to whip up with the magic of baking powder.

Until I got home and discovered cockroaches and insects in my bowl of dry ingredients which I had stupidly left uncovered in my bedroom. I threw the ingredients away (don't worry, I don't use tainted ingredients!), but was enough of a klutz to drop them all over my bathroom floor.

All distractions aside, I finally got around to whipping up a new batch of mushi pan batter. It's really very simple, just a matter of assembling everything you need into one bowl (or two, as some of the other blogs instructed, but I'm lazy and cleaning up's a mess with the water problem we've been facing for almost 2 months now). I didn't measure the ingredients, and I just added however much sugar or flour or milk or cocoa powder I thought I needed. And an egg. And about a teaspoon plus of baking powder. And some splashes of water, because the original batter ended up quite thick and gritty. I added enough water to make the consistency of the batter smoother, more silky, slightly thicker than pancake mix. Then spooned the batter until it filled about three quarters of the mould (grease it with some oil or margarine or butter if you want an easier removal of the mushi pan from the mould when it's cooked).

I had a pot filled with water on the boil while I was mixing the batter and scooping it into the mould. When the bubbles are rolling furiously, I put the mould into the pot (on top of a little bowl so it wouldn't overturn in the water, just in case and all), covered it, and turned the fire down to small. Left the mushi pan steaming away for 15 minutes like the other blogs recommended, feeling rather nervous the entire time because I didn't know if my mushi pan would 'work'. At first it looked like it wouldn't set, the batter was that thin. But it did! And it didn't really need 15 minutes because the mould I used was really small and shallow. The second batch I put in to steam (same batter, but small mould and I ended up with more batter so had to try to finish most of it up) was pretty much ready in about 5 minutes, but then again, that's because of the size and depth of the mould I was using, so a bigger/deeper mould or ramekin would logically require more steaming time. The second batch kinda poofed up a bit, whereas the first batch remained quite flat and actually split a bit. I'm not sure if it's because of the difference in steaming time or amount of heat (kinda forgot to lower the heat with the second batch). I stuck a wooden skewer into the mushi pan to make sure they were thoroughly cooked; they came out clean, so now I know all I need is 5 minutes if I'm using the same mould.

I was so chuffed when I took them out of the mould. They were so smooth, brown and beautiful! Look at them! Wouldn't you be happy, too? They tasted great too; not too sweet (next time I'll try using condensed milk like some of the other blogs/websites suggested), and the cocoa powder (I used Milo) gave it a nice richness. The texture was beautiful, too. I was rather worried because the mushi pan looked like soggy bread (which I run away from) when I first took them out of the mould, but it was probably brought about by the condensation of the steam, and inside it was dry and fluffy and like eating a light sponge cake!

I've got some matcha and I'm thinking of whipping up matcha mushi pan the next time I try this. I think it'll be really good, and I'll try sprinkling some matcha over the top of the mushi pan when they're done (I sprinkled some Milo powder over the top of the mushi pan this time). This is definitely something that's staying in my culinary repertoire as they're really really very simple to make, and they would make a good last-minute oh-no-friends-have-dropped-by-and-we-have-nothing-to-eat snack, or even as presents, especially if you wrap them up all pretty and cute.

And besides, everybody likes cake.

Give it a go, people, and cheers!

Snap happy

Last Saturday was a really productive day. Planky and I were craving a good photography excursion, and it turned out to be a snap-happy day!

We happened to be at tHe Spring and there was a special lion dance performance in conjunction with the 'Go Bald' campaign. The drummer was a little 4-year old boy who was also shaving his head, and here are some of the snaps of that:

We left tHe Spring and took a drive to the outskirts of Kuching, and took these shots of the new Sarawak State Legislative Assembly building:

And then we dropped into the Orchid Garden, since it was close by. We spent the bulk of the photo excursion here, there were so many things to take pictures of! It's a pretty big place, and there were quite a few photographers, tourists, and people taking evening walks there.

The day ended with a good dinner, and we finally managed to have our biryani! The first time I had dinner at this place (a small restaurant specializing in Northern Indian cuisine), it was late and they ran out of biryani and I ended up having Chinese-style fried rice (I know, ironic). The second time we arrived an hour before opening time, and waited for approximately 20 minutes (Planky claims it was 25 minutes) only to find out there was a private function that day, and thus not open to the public. Third time's the charm though, and I finally managed to try the vegetable biryani on Saturday! It was probably the best vegetable biryani I've tasted! But then again, it's the only vegetable biryani I've tasted so far; usually I go for lamb or chicken, but I was craving a try, and it did not disappoint.

And that's it. This is a pretty photo-heavy blogpost, but then again it's not often I have so many good pics to share! Cheers, y'all!

Funny bone

This afternoon, out of sheer boredom and an excessive tickling in my funny bone, I went a little crazy with the picture-taking.

Hoping this put a smile on your face. Cheers!

Bloom amongst the mud

I was walking around the garden with my mobile the other day, looking to snap a photo of anything remotely interesting, when something tiny caught my eye. It was so small that I could have missed it, this wee flower, peeking out from amongst a layer of aquatic plants that shielded the eyes from the murky, muddy depths of some rainwater in a makeshift pond.

The pond is one of the more interesting features of our garden, I think. It looks like a giant wok, all metal and copperish from the rust brought about by the interchanging cycles of rain and sunshine. It sits in the middle of our garden, and looks rather like a UFO decided to make a crash landing in the compound of some random house, only it looks too pretty to be an accident.

The metallic pond cum giant wok cum UFO wasn't what I took a picture of, however; it was this little picture-in-the-making fine specimen of a flower. It looks like a big bloom, but in reality it's really small, and you would probably mistake it for a weed and just trample thoughtlessly on it. But zooming up close with the macro setting on my mobile, you really start noticing its subtle beauty; thin filaments of yellow that elegantly end in glittering white pearls, slim translucent petals that look as smooth as velvet. Such breathtaking complexity in what must be one of the most humble of plants. I still have no idea what species this is; I'm wondering if it's a waterlily.

It reminds me so much of life. At times we feel like everything sucks, and it's all ugly and old and depressing. We just wanna crawl by, trying our hardest not to stand out. Don't look at me, don't pick on me. Just leave me alone. That's what it looks like, anyway. But look close enough, take the effort to dig deep and think, and suddenly you notice the beauty in the simplest of things. The smallest of gestures. Maybe it's the realization that you've got to pick yourself up off the floor, and move on, and that the world's just waiting to be explored. Or it could be a memory of something so silly and trivial, it cracks you up.

And suddenly life doesn't seem so bad after all. And you start searching for the silver lining. Not that the clouds disappear, of course. Thunderstorms don't turn to rainbows in the blink of an eye. It all takes time.

But when it finally happens, you can't help but step back in awe, relish the moment, and smile.

Peter Pan

It's been tough these past few weeks. At times I feel like a raft out at sea, being tossed about, carelessly, by the rough winds and roaring waves. Waiting for that moment when the elements overwhelm, and everything ups and turns upon itself, a crash, destruction, and it all sinks under, to lie, buried beneath the surface of the sea. That, or a constant journey across the miles of endless blue. Just a piece of discarded driftwood. Old, rotten, forgotten, fragile. Just waiting for that first glimpse of land.

But it's not all bad. There are good moments too. Like when I retreat into my past, and try to reconnect with the kid within. Good days of old. The Peter Pan complex. Never wanting to grow up. But then again, we all do, and we must.

But every once in a while, when all looks dull and gray, it's never too late to pick up a piece of an easier, happier, less complicated childhood. And to just enjoy the moment.

Rolling down a hill

Stuck in the hub of a wheel,
rolling down a hill;
rolling, rolling, rolling,
till it comes to a still.