Not being a food blogger or a foodie or anything – I have no plans to resurrect a dead and decaying food blog that I maintain – means that I can do a few things that would be no-no’s to consummate foodies/foodistas/food bloggers within six degrees of separation. “Reviewing food” would be one thing. Or use adjectives I hate; while I used the word “idiot” in 19 entries in this blog, the word “succulent” was only used twice. Or take good pictures of food. For example:
Above is the Malaysian national dish, nasi lemak. Me, my girlfriend Jam, and her cousin Chill had dinner at a restaurant called Nasi Lemak in Robinson’s Galleria (no, the meal was not free, and yes, it’s ethical to say that), apparently ran by Chef Gene Gonzalez. While Jam and Chill had… succulent… plates of Hainanese Chicken Rice to go with the delectable tom yum goong and the exceptional Malaysian chicken curry, I chose the nasi lemak. “A complete meal,” I justified to myself, anticipating the fun I would have mixing coconut cream rice with chicken, fish, egg, peanuts, and dried anchovies. That, or I was preparing myself for philosophizing in the comfort of my own toilet bowl.
Suffice to say the dinner affair between me and a plate full of food became a battle of brawn, appetite, and shredded bits of chicken.