Until my mid-twenties, my weekend mornings were filled with a colorful assortment of Singaporean delights, a sampling of the possibly endless list being: Century egg and pork liver congee, fried beehoon (rice vermicelli) with chicken wings and fish cake, roast pork and wonton noodles, mee siam (fine noodles in a spicy-sour light gravy topped with a lime and hard-boiled egg, nasi lemak (coconut-flavored rice with sambal chili, ikan bilis and cucumber slices), roti prata, curry puffs, pandan cake, toast with half-boiled eggs, roast pork buns, bak kut teh (pork rib soup), laksa (thick vermicelli noodles in a curry broth with shrimp, fish cake and cockles), kway chap (soupy chow fun with pig intestines, preserved cabbage and tofu), warm soy bean curd, teh tarik ("pulled" tea), my all-time favorite of minced pork fish ball noodles with an extra dash of vinegar, red-bean paste buns, goreng pisang (fried bananas) . . .
La Sa Tom: the Vietnamese dish in Upper West Side that's almost laksa
One of my favorite breakfast snacks, the pork-floss bun, at the supermarket near my sister's Shanghai apartment
Since moving to Manhattan more than five years ago, I'd found myself subconsciously weaning off the need for my Singaporean comfort foods -- unwittingly prompted by the depletion of the giant bag of bak kwa (Singaporean pork jerky), my mom had packed into my suitcase -- with once-a-month trips to Chinatown for Hong Kong dim sum. Instead, brunch is my new black.
Jing Fong, an eccentric dim sum place serving stir-fried mussels for breakfast that doubles up as a Chinese wedding venue complete with his and hers dragon-and-phoenix motifs
Although the concept of brunch is not new to me prior to moving to America, this activity has established roots in my American weekends and taken on a life of its own. By that, I mean that it has achieved "permanent meal status" alongside "lunch" and "dinner" during the weekends. I find myself waking to the craving of crispy bacon and over easy eggs, served with pancakes and maple syrup, and a refillable mug of coffee.
My favorite weekend refrain is most definitely, "Wanna go for brunch?"
Nothing smells better than a greasy diner at 11 on a Saturday morning, I've concluded, since becoming a brunch convert five years ago.
This gastronomic taming of my culinary preference was a little surprising to me. Granted that New York does not have hawker centers or coffee shops to cater to 90 percent of the Singapore breakfast foods, I have heard stories of many overseas Singaporeans who would trek long distances to ethnic food grocers to purchase ingredients to make their own hawker fare within the confines of their apartments. I had expected myself to take a similar path. After all, Singaporeans are foodies, and we all love our food dearly. How did this transformation happen?
I half suspect Asian food in Europe played a large part in this behavioral change. Three years in the Asian culinary wasteland of continental Europe had whipped me into shape against three assumptions I didn't used to question:
1. Asian food is always delicious.
2. Asian food is tastier than Western cuisine.
3. Asian food is healthy.
Similar to how some people add the words "in bed" to the end of their fortune cookie's fortune, I'd learned to qualify these three statements by starting each off with "Asian food in Singapore..." Within months in Europe, I had found myself already favoring pain au chocolat and pizza quattro stagioni over Chinese ravioli and chop suey. By the time I left the Old Continent for the New World, I was getting by just fine with one or two Asian meals a week.
The ubiquitous Chinese-American meal that most Americans know and love -- General Tso's Chicken -- complete with the token fried spring roll and the New York take-out box
A recent brunch experience with an American carrier that came with my very own mile-high fortune
This trend was sustained by my wariness toward American Chinese food, from its confusing lexicon (e.g., why is the flat rice noodle hor fun called chow fun, which rightfully means fried rice?) to its excessive use of corn starch and monosodium glutamate. If not for the bastions of old Chinese restaurants in Manhattan's Chinatown (and Grand Sichuan, my favorite Chinese restaurant outside of that neighborhood), I may very well have forgotten how Chinese food should taste.
One of many New York Times reviews of Grand Sichuan
The ability to lose the constant craving for familiar weekend foods only half explains my infatuation for brunch. After all, brunch menus are not the most interesting of menus; protein staples of eggs and sausage, bacon or ham are often paired up with toast or pancakes to make up two-thirds of most brunch menus in New York. There are no elaborate seasonings (usually just a table tray of salt, pepper and Tabasco), creative salads, or fancy meat cuts (the tougher skirt steak often being the token beef dish on the menu).
But, the coffee and breakfast cocktails! Boy, do they make a a world of difference. The genius who came up with the idea to get us slightly buzzed over scrambled eggs and chocolate churros, and then re-awakened to the aroma of coffee, truly understands the meaning of a lazy weekend morning. What better way to relax after a long work week (and what sometimes appears to be an equally long Friday night-out) than a mimosa that slides down your throat to tickle your insides and get you ready for a hearty meal of greasy meats and carbs.
Brunch in New York is also a definitive time with friends. Countless weekend mornings have been spent catching up with old friends and making new ones; lending an ear to break-up sob stories and being a cheerleader for promising new dates; getting advice on whether to buy a place during the economic downturn or to continue with a rental apartment; fueling up before a museum visit or a subway ride to Coney Island; meeting a blind date or a friend's new baby; hosting a welcome party for a new implant to the city or organizing a farewell party; and watching the FIFA World Cup or the Olympics in a sports bar or Irish pub.
Brunch with my buddy Chad at Cafeteria, a popular brunch location featured in Sex and the City
Yes, brunch is more than brunch food. Brunch is we-time. Brunch is good conversation and reliable food with an atmosphere you can relax in. It is so therapeutic, it almost relegates the food to a supporting role.
Did I also mention the stars?
Brunch is responsible for many a celebrity sighting, a time when the famous seeks a slice of normality in their attempts to blend in with the rest of us by eating normal foods in regular cafes dotting the island. I've resisted the urge on more than one occasion to take a picture with my iPhone, opting instead to stare until my eyes lock with those of the celebrity (Philip Seymour Hoffman in the West Village) or the cafe owner (Malcom Gladwell in Chelsea).
A once-upon-a-time date once commented that guys do brunch only to hang with the ladies, or only if they are gays.
If that were true, brunch would most certainly be a reason why women live six years longer than men in the city.
Which works out to be worth at least three hundred weekend brunches.
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Dear una ragazza,
ReplyDeleteGosh I had no idea you had such a love for food! (but maybe I should have stereotyped you as one being Singaporean and all ;))
Great post and great writing, we should eat some time
Yours,
Shirley chow