"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh the thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away. " - Eliot, G.
With so many of the people that I love now scattered in various parts of the world - Kuala Lumpur, London, Boston, Hong Kong, Perth - it's become difficult for me, especially in recent years, to keep those precious bonds of friendship in tact. And with me being somewhat of a traditionalist when it comes to relationships, I've found emails a terrible substitute for chats over lattes. As I've gotten older, and as my personality, my thoughts and my beliefs have crystallised, I have found it increasingly rare to find a connection with someone that I've just met for the first time. No man (or woman) is an island, that's for sure, but I'm not a terribly extroverted person, and I tend to be quite shy with people that I don't really know. My island at least has been pretty bare of late (haha), safe for a couple of voyagers and a handful of people from my tribe. At conferences, meetings, cocktail parties and dinners, there are so many introductions and niceties exchanged, but there is rarely a moment that would make you ever want to go out of your way to get to know another better.
And then a couple of weeks ago, I received an invitation for coffee and conversation with a new acquaintance. I had discovered, by accident, or perhaps fate, that B was going through a similar situation as I was. I suspected that we would spend the afternoon discussing serious development issues, which in any case, was welcomed. But as the hours passed, we exchanged stories about our childhood, our life philosophies, and what brought us to Singapore. It was completely unplanned; and as a result, completely spontaneous and refreshing. The stories kept building upon each other - they were raw, honest and uncensored, and before the end of the night it was like we had, magically, weaved together a quilt of interlocking pieces from our past. Both talking and listening to him seemed so easy, so effortless.
Someone recently told me, "One never knows where one will find a kindred spirit." Here a monk stops to chat to friends outside the Buddha Tiger Tooth Relic temple in Chinatown, Singapore
At some point, we found ourselves at a gerai in Bukit Timah, hungry and a little dehydrated. I asked B what he wanted to eat. He told me what he usually ordered. I stared at him blankly and asked him to repeat. And then it occurred to me that the dish he was requesting for was "Ayam Masak kicap" (translation: Chicken cooked in Black Sauce) but in his Anglicized rendition, it had become "I am key cup." I laughed, and then wondered momentarily if he would be insulted. But to my delight, he laughed with me.
I guess sometimes one finds friendship in unlikely places. As the weeks have gone by, I've discovered that true friendship is like deriving an equation, side by side, with someone that you both trust and care for. It's being able to let one's guard down, to breathe, to be oneself without pretense, fear or insecurity. It's about finding humour in every day situations, and about the joy and extreme pleasure in finding someone with whom to share the simple things in life - like desert, a good movie, or a walk after the rain. It's about encouraging each other to strive for better things, and helping another find strength in facing the challenges that life throws our way instead of recoiling in fear. I'm going to remember this for life.
In ode to "I am key cup," I thought that I would attempt to make the dish at home. It's a traditional kampung-style dish that utilises ingredients that are readily available in most Southeast Asian kitchens. Thanks also to my dear friend, Frat Mustard, who recently shared with me this interesting piece of information that the popular "ketchup" has its roots in the humble Kicap.
This post is for you, B for making life, and sinning in Singapore, not only more interesting, but more meaningful.
(A tip for those of you considering making this dish - if you don't want your hands to be stained completely yellow, use gloves before rubbing the chicken pieces with turmeric.)
This dish isn't hard to put together. The deep-frying may seem cumbersome but it helps to retain the flavour of the meat before it is braised, I have been told. I served this with a traditional Balinese coconut rice dish and a side dish of Sambal Asparagus and Beancurd.
Ingredients:
1 kg chicken pieces, such as thighs and drumsticks. Remove skin if preferred.
About 1/2-1 tbsp turmeric powder
Salt and a dash of pepper
2 tbsp olive oil
1 stick cinnamon
2 star anise
3 cloves
3 cardamom
1 inch ginger root, sliced thickly
4 cloves garlic, minced
5 shallots, minced
1-2 tsp. freshly minced red chilly or sambal
1 cup water
1 tbsp. dark caramel soy sauce, the best quality you can find
1 tbsp. light soy sauce
1 tsp. Hoisin sauce
Dash pepper to taste
1 red onion, sliced
Red chilly, sliced thinly, for garnishing (optional)
Wash and dry chicken pieces. In a colander, marinade chicken with turmeric, salt and dash of pepper, rubbing mixture into the meat. Keep aside for 1/2-1 hour. Heat deep-fryer or large wok with oil until hot. Deep-fry chicken pieces, in batches until golden brown. Drain well, and keep aside. (If desired, pat chicken with paper towels to remove excess oil).
Heat non-stick skillet over medium heat and add oil. Add spices and ginger and stir-fry until fragrant. Add shallots and garlic and fry for another 3-5 minutes until lightly golden. Add chilly or sambal, stir fry for another minute or so, before adding chicken pieces. Coat chicken with spices and add about 1 cup of water. Add dark and light soy sauce as well as Hoisin sauce, and a dash of pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Simmer over low heat for about 15 minutes. Finally, add onion, stir well, cover and simmer for another 5 minutes. Serve hot, garnished with chilly, if desired.
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