Weekly Wanderings #2
"Oh, have you finished all the bread?" she asks, a smile on her slightly wrinkled face.
She resembles my aunt, I think.
But I reply with a chuckle, whilst purchasing my second round of bread - in my third visit to the bakery in 4 hours. No, I haven't.
And it's true. In my hand clutch my precious stash of bread. I peer behind the cashier, into the little glass baker where bakers are shaping dough into little patties. Their hands flit across the table so swiftly, as if possessed by magic. I stare with a hungry yearning until my friend breaks the spell and drags me away, reluctantly.
Here we are again, at another end of a chapter. The pages have ink scribbled in a lazy scrawl, with some bun fillings and jam spreads across them from various meals taken, messily. This is a short chapter - one of which lacks the usual form and control. It's wild, carefree, with a lightness in the mood. It's one which is sunshine-filled, one which contain happy memories from the month-long respite I've been granted.
I've let loose, let my moods carry me away across sleepy evenings and exhilarating excursions. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a gadabout, far from that, but I did enjoy my days galvanising all over town with a friend. To be able to dress up, fuss over which energy bar to select, and later return home laden with purchases is a special ritual all by itself. It makes up half the fun, to be honest, that freedom to spend time browsing shops which we are not permitted within the next three months.
I've gotten to roam the market in the mornings, make my grocery purchase for dinner, say hi to the storeholder who's the amicable soul who gives me extra cherries and inquires after my mother, get a traditional snack or two, and board the bus home again. It's a peaceful routine admidst the crowded clatter in the atmosphere. (I think this is better than school, truly.)
from left to right:
#1 bread makes the best canvas
#2 I passed my handicap test - I can golf worldwide now! Hooray!
#3 some of the loves of my life - custard yolk baos
#4 some Nat Geo issues
#5 beginning with 'b's - bagel, berry-jam, blueberries, black tahini, banana
#6 some essentials before heading out for a movie
#7 purchases from Petite Provence - aka the best bakery ever
#8 I do not get the starbucks craze. 'twas happy hour
#9 boots make a good vase for flowers
The pages within this chapter has splotches of fillings I say, maybe some sesame paste, no?
Fillings make the heart of everything, I say. And I mean it.
Here, in the due course of a month, my fondness for jams and other bread spreads have trebled. I'm on the prowl for new toppings; always on the lookout for more of that goopy jarred stuff. Jam, dulce de leche, nut butters, honey. But really, what I think my love for these has been brought forth from is that of nostalgia. The fondness for St. Dalfours four-berry is incomparable to even that of some fancy carob-hazel butter attained recently. It's the memories which grow with the fruit, the memory of which the hand of my father comes into view clutching two or three jars of St Dalfours, their contents translucent and bearing stark resemblance of gems under the light, with some odd bits of berry and pineapple suspended within. (his is pineapple-mango, mine four-berry. it's always the same)
Here I write the final pages to this chapter. Perhaps the cliff hanger which lures you on the following pages of this tome. I depart this vacation, with a luggage packed with summer-wear, waving the waves and sand and sky farewell. I know this isn't the final goodbye; I shall return. But that tinge of melancholic emotions swell within my heart as I turn around for the final time, a longing expression of epic proportions. Fare thee well, summer, with your bright berries and flowers which spruce up the season. Here the lines between yen and cacoethes are beginning to blur, as well as my sight.
For the final time, farewell.
I've got oatmeal today, but one which is dissimilar. It's well-received, as both a pudding and oatmeal itself. It's soft but springy, not to dry but compact, and it sticks together (to the pan as well - grease it, perhaps?) Inspired by dim sum upon catching sight of the new bamboo steamer I recently purchased, I decided to steam my oatmeal. An experiment which was worth it, I deem.
Soaking the oat grains overnight ensure a well-bonded mixture which is humbly flavoured with honey and later consumed my a whole lot of other fruits. Another new-found obsession of mine - creating unrecognizable food-imals. As always, feel free to play with different flavours and of course, enjoy.
- to be continued -