Saved by Baja

I am hemming and hawing over dinner
work has been draining
and as I peer into the icy depths of the freezer
mentally calculating the time, the steps, I announce
"I can't do it today, I just can't do it."

And it is a rare occasion indeed in this home when I don't find solace in the ritual of preparing a meal.

So now the predicament. Where and what?
Mexican I think, then sway towards Vietnamese
but it is the faintest leaning
somewhere in my mind I have Fish Tacos swimming
thats where the heart of my stomach is at.

So we drive, still uncertain (because my head has not come to terms with my stomach)
and as he takes the turn that leads us closer to Vietnamese
I exclaim, issuing and automatic U-turn into the other direction

We stand, unsure in front of Pedro's Place, the menu doesn't have Fish Tacos
But its unlikely that I will find that, or good Mexican in Kuala Lumpur town
"Well, lets do it" he says
and in we go.

The place looks unpromising, we stare at each other
then walk out

Beside Pedro's, a KFC.
He jokingly says "lets eat here", a half challenge, hungry and tired and my pickiness
knowing I abhor it
"Lets do it," I say
"I'll walk in if you go first," he says

And so I do.

As we approach the counter " Are you sure?"
I nod and proceed to order
Halfway through my Snack Plate, I give him my chicken
Say I can't do it
We finish the meal silently.

He says "Ok baby, lets go find you something to eat, because I don't want you up at 11 needing and proper meal"
And I have given no indication, yet this man knows me so well

We go to the super, I pick up a snapper fillet, a jar of caliente salsa
taco shells, sour cream

At home, the fish is seasoned,
a red onion swiftly chopped, lettuce rinsed, a tomato diced
the taco shells are popped into the oven to crisp
the fish onto the hot grill pan
10 minutes later we are piling the greens and hot cubes of moist fish into the corn receptacles
dolloping on the sour cream and salsa, the faintest squeeze of lemon

The first bite is enough to erase Colonel's secret recipe
It is fresh, crunchy, savoury, tangy
Perfect.

In it I see visions of opening my own little taqueria
out of an old ice cream van
Fish taco dreams a reality.

-_-

I wake up and we are tangled in each other
warm here, soft there, taut there

I climb on top of him.
It doesn't matter if he's sleeping
for I am sentimental,
overcome

"How did you find me, baby?" I ask

He cracks an eye open...."I find you very interesting..."
(in a Hongky English accent)

-_- way to wake up.

Strategy

We are late-ish for work. I hop into the car,  briefly turn towards him as I arrange this and that

"Wah!" he say, appraising me

"Wah what?" I ask

"Wah, your hair looks different today..."

"What does that mean?" defensive, eyes narrowed

"It means...that...I think your hair needs some strategy.."

Only a man supremely confident in his place in his relationship with me would
dare say such a thing.

A Week Passed

We went to Bangkok.
Bought plates for RM2 each because I'm a genius and decided I wanted to shop ONLY for plates
at Chatuchak.

My objective is set early on for neither of us can stand the heat, nor crowds.

Up at 7.
Light breakfast, in to buy the plates, eat the requisite fried rice and Thai omelette.OUT.
By noon we'll be out I say, and by noon we are. I surprise myself with my precision.
I am like a military operation.

We get back to the room and rejoice over our RM4 plates (yeah! That's what I said)
I stack them all together, the dinner plate, salad/pasta plates, the soup bowls, the saucers
Alas! the dinner plates don't match!

We (I) plan the next day's revisit to change the plates
I mentally marvel at the patience- he is without a doubt
my better half

We go, we change them, these ones are prettier, more modern
and as we leave the proprietor presses change at us
they cost less, RM2.50 per piece

We shake our heads in amazement as I doggedly lead us
in and out of the warren of alleyways, searching for Boat Noodles
'but there's one!' well spotted, but its not the one

We find it. A mound of meats and offal sitting on shaved ice
2 enormous cauldrons of steaming stock with floating balls
piles of dill, basil and pak chi farang
I sit and eat, satiated
Then we leave.

iberry-check, plates-check, fried rice and omelette-check, coconut ice-cream
and bicycling in Lumphini park-check
boat ride and being rowed in the boat by Mr Man-NOT CHECKED!

oh well.

We arrive home at 2 am. I potter about the terrace, no one has bothered
and the plants are not watered
all my cucumber shoots are wilted, the four-angled bean and eggplant still sprightly
the petunias shrivelly
I try my best to nurse them back to succulence
as best I can in 2 am state

As we tumble into bed he turns to me and says,
"baby, at some point, one of us should tell them Simple Life council that we're fucked."

Cats

The cats come in and out of our house
Strays

We do not like them because they spray
So, extra care to close the windows,
the thousand sliding doors,
Yet still they enter, climbing, leaping, sneaking

They bask in the morning sun on the terrace
lounging, aptly, on the sun-lounger, teasing

We cleaned the house
we bought furniture, a kitchen

We made it look like people who actually cared, live there
aesthetically a little more pleasing
than
the dusty messed bachelor pad that it was before

and now they tell me they're putting up netting
on the grills, to keep out the cats

and I baulk at it, the very sort of thing that will
undo all that has been done
turn a space that I have so very slowly begun to relax in
turn it, by adding something that will needle at me every day

it takes so very little to upend my sensitivities
but very few understand that

It is not yet here, and I can't wait to begone.

Mezze

At the bar alone.

And it feels like its been awhile since it was just me. 

Beside me, a group of five maybe. They are food tasting, wine-drinking, smoke unfurling. The owners of this place,- is what I gather from my unavoidable eavesdropping.

People are always disturbed by the thought (sight) of a lone woman. 

At the bar, in the restaurant. They give me concerned looks as I nurse my glass of wine, peruse the bar, the tiling, the finishing. No one ever thinks that I love it.

The manager comes over, would I like to order first? The girls are 15 minutes late..

oh, why not?

I order duck liver pate, spicy prawns in creamy butter sauce. 

The lure of crispy curry leaves.

Maybel arrives, we go to our table. Then Gwyn arrives, a bottle of pinot noir.

We order easily, agreeing to share this and that.

The food comes, parpardelle with beef cheeks, grilled spatchcock with

provencal potatoes, grilled lamb with cous cous. We put aside a plate for Mel, 

because if we don’t portion it out we will eat her share. Everything is divine.

Unexpectedly divine, even more wonderful because.

She arrives, eyes red. There are tears, and we all fall silent as she weeps.

I rub her back, we try and comfort. Someone cracks a joke and we feed her, 

slowly, things get better. We laugh, gossip, plan. The sweet balm of friendship. 

Dessert-sticky toffee pudding. 

They thank me for my recommendation. I accept their thanks.

I had walked past Mezze with the boyfriend 3 nights ago.

“ooh!, this place looks nice, you should bring me on a date!” 

he hemmed and hawed, and I said 

“You know what? The girls will be far more game to come with me! I’ll ask them”.

And thus, a newly discovered favourite neighbourhood bistro.