Tokyo 2020/2021

Viewing experience of The Games in Tokyo this year was more of a series of delayed snippets rather than a 'live broadcast' like what I'd watched in Rio five years earlier. 

I might have watched the 'live broadcast' over the free app provided by our free-to-air local television station, but then after watching a bit of table tennis and a bit of badminton, the resolution (or lack of it) got to me and... I deleted it. 

There's no use holding on to an app on the phone once you realize you don't have time to watch The Games 'live', and if the resolution's so odd that you feel like your viewing experience is weighed down. 

Fickle me crossed over to Youtube instead. 

Never mind that there was no Tokyo 2020 Channel. 

Never mind that none of the snippets were 'live' or even close to real-time. 

The videos were notable features, the resolution was sharp, and the edits made me eager to watch whatever was available at whatever time I went on Youtube.  

It didn't even matter what Game it was. 

Some days I caught the Swimming events. 

Other days I caught part of the Gymnastics. 

There were days where I managed to catch a bit of Archery. 

And I was so glad when videos of Artistic Swimming surfaced too. 

I caught snippets of Simone Biles, Sunisa Lee and their fellow teammates of the American team on the gymnastics floor. 

I caught edits of Israeli gymnast Linoy Ashram and her Russian (ROC) competitor for the Rhythmic Gymnastics where the Israeli won gold. 

And I watched the full segment of the Russians (ROC) artistic swimmers perform their Spider (Black Widow) routine in the pool. 

There was a day where I managed to watch a bit of the Women's Archery event where India's Deepika Kumari competed with Ksenia Perova from the ROC. 

And there was a day where I watched South Korea's An San make the cutest heart shape above her head at the camera as she received her gold. 

It wasn't all Women's events I watched. 

Somewhere along the way the video of Men's Volleyball between Poland and Iran popped up, so I watched that too. After all, it isn't every day I get to see the Polish and the Iranians play.   

What propelled the edits and videos on Youtube was probably the fact that Social Media and Entertainment took a place in the Games this year. 

Entertainment, in particular, where at the airport, athletes were greeted by stickers of Super Mario and other characters from Nintendo on the walls along the travellators, and where, at the opening ceremony, athlete contingents marched out to music from popular video games that was performed by an orchestra (with a female conductor!) within the grounds of the stadium.

Athletes were encouraged to wear their favorite game/anime merchandise. 

Thus saw Russian (ROC) sharpshooter Vitalina Batsarashkina flaunt her Witcher medallion at the Women's air pistol event. 

By the way, she won the event. 

And set a new Olympic record. 

One of the things that particularly kept me interested during the entire Games were the collection of videos done by the athletes, whom the IOC- for the first time- allowed to post content on their own social media accounts. 

The rest of the world doesn't get to really see how the Olympics Village looks like. 

Now we do. 

Most of the footage featured the resilience of the much-talked about cardboard beds, but we got to see the dining hall, the meals, the vending machines, the driverless vehicles, the hair salons with the barbers and the hairdressers, and the Covid-19 precautions all athletes had to adhere to. 

A member from the American team showed her fans on Tik Tok the items in her sponsorship kit. They were quite fab, I have to say. If I recall rightly, there were lots of stuff from Nike, skins from Kim Kardashian, sunglasses from Oakley, and an entire sports bag of outfits from Polo Ralph Lauren that included hoodies, sweat shirts, sweat pants, polo shirts, skirts and dresses. 

Every athlete got a phone from Samsung too. 

That was a nice touch, I have to say. 

Because this meant that every athlete- never mind from which country or contingent you were- had the opportunity of documenting your life at the Games, and the opening/closing ceremonies. 

Which most of them did.

At the opening ceremony, at least one member of each contingent was taking videos and/or doing video calls with family members using their phones. 

That look of exuberance and pride on their faces was such a joy to see. 

It was a fantastic opening ceremony, by the way, a juxtaposition of entertainment, sport, and culture. 

If you didn't come out in athletic gear or in blazers over your sweat pants/ sport skirts/pencil skirts/formal pants, you came out in the cultural costume of your country. 

The Africans maxed it to the hilt. 

So did the Islands. 

And it didn't matter whether you had two athletes, six athletes or a couple hundred- as long as you had a flag, as long as you qualified for the Games, you had a place there. If you qualified but had been displaced from your home country, there was a Refugee Olympic Team too. 

That's the charm of sport. 

Doesn't matter where you are, doesn't matter where you come from, it's a sport- with rules- and as long as you're qualified, so there. 

The other charm of the athletic spirit that I fell in love with at Tokyo 2020 was seeing the athletes have fun at the right time. 

I don't know if they'd been allowed to be this relaxed at other closing ceremonies. (I haven't had the chance to watch many) 

But it was obvious- it was way more relaxed, very much like a party- as one commentator said- where athletes were no longer required to march out as they'd had a couple of weeks ago but could just walk out, wave, blow kisses, cheer, dance even, at the cameras for their friends and family back home.

Shall I say that I paid a bit more attention to the ROC team, the Ukrainian team, the Italian team, the Chinese-Taipei team, the Malaysian team, the Indian team and the Bhutanese team? 

Shall I also say that I paid just as much attention to the IOC guy at the podium who made a heart shape with his hands as he thanked the city of Tokyo and the people of Japan? 

It's been a great Tokyo 2020. 

No less because the Show went on. 

It will be another four (no, three) years before we get to watch the Olympics again. 

May Paris 2024 be as thrilling, fashionable, and fun as this one. 

Dinner @ Simpang Bedok

This was one of those weekend evenings where you didn't feel like going to town, had already exhausted almost all the dining options in the 'hood and yet didn't want to go very far to another side of the country. 

So, what with us being bum and lazy and all, we decided we'd have dinner at a place which we'd never been to before. 

Ok, so it wasn't a place unknown. 

Neither was it a place we 'd never heard of before. 

Just that we'd never had an opportunity to eat there. 

But this evening we were at the hawker center of Simpang Bedok because Someone had read very good reviews about this oyster omelet from this particular stall and gotten a craving for it. 

Let me first say that this or luak was unlike any other or luak I'd had thus far. 

Maybe I'm suaku. 

Or maybe I haven't eaten as much famous or luak as some of us might have. 

This particular or luak was crispy, seriously crispy, no joke, with plenty of juicy, chubby oysters tucked snugly between the cakes of deep fried flour. 

It tasted like those prawn crackers you buy when you eat from the ngoh hiang stalls. 

You know, that kind where there's a prawn right smack in the center of the cracker and you have to either nibble your way through it or try breaking it into smaller pieces so that everyone can share.

Yeah, it was like that kind.  

This was an or luak where you could feel the oil burst out from every bite of the thin crispy cracker-like piece, and it might make you feel really (greasy) and (cheat day) but it tasted so good, and anyway it didn't have that sort of icky, greasy aftertaste that some other or luaks have. 

It being freshly fried made a great deal of difference. 

I think so. 

Of course, it being well prepared straight from the wok also meant a good fifteen minute wait, so like all hungry stomachs at hawker centers do, we went hunting for other foods elsewhere.  

For some reason we settled on a plate of char kuay teow. 

Let's bring cheat day to the max, I suppose. 

But hey, this was good. 

Well, so the finicky part of me wishes we'd tried the white version- if they had one (because I like the white version more than I like the black) but this plate too came to the table hot and fresh and the best part of it was that the noodles were of a texture where I could easily pick them out bit by bit without needing to eat them from a spoon.

All in all, dinner at Simpang Bedok here made for a very wonderful meal. 

Very hawker, very street food, very local, very shiok. 

Oh, and we had drinks. 

One glass of teh ais and one glass of teh o ais limau. 

Bagus. 

I Met A Friend

Always a delight it is when I get to meet a friend. 

Especially if you're an introvert (as I am). 

And especially if you're stuck in a situation where social distancing rules make it such that you never know when it is you can meet in groups of twos, threes, fours, or none at all. 

It wasn't supposed to be just the two of us. 

It was supposed to be three. 

But then one of us babes couldn't make it and so it was just us two.

I'd really like to thank her, and her family, for opening up their home. 

It isn't everyone that welcomes the friends of their kids into their home at decent (but random) hours. 

Especially since one friend is someone whom hasn't dropped in for more than a year, and the other might not have visited prior before.

But her parents were cool. 

Only her father was around at home when we arrived back from the nearby coffee shop bearing breakfast plastic bags of thosai, three kinds of curries, and one chutney. 

Even so, he did his own thing, hung around the kitchen a bit, then went off, leaving us girls by the table chomping away on our food. 

My friend recommended me to try the fish curry (because I can't tell the difference between one and the other) and, yes, I have to say, the fish curry was good. 

So was the thosai, which, truth be told, I actually hadn't eaten in years.

We took a picture of the thosai and the curries for our friend. 

Over cups of pellet-brewed Nescafe coffee, we two former secondary school friends chatted about work, work, and work some more. Challenges of daily living somehow seem to become less stressful when you get to blather them out.   

After that, we put away the necessary, washed the cutlery and the cups, then headed to her room where she very kindly let me chill on the mattress. 

How long we sat there, I don't know, but soon enough the room door opened, and in came the cat who hopped onto the platform, took one look at me (the stranger), meowed a couple of times, then stalked onto the mattress towards her owner, with her tail swishing happily away. 

I have to say I'm no cat reader. 

It took me a while before I realized that the reason of her quiet presence by my side was due the fact that this intruder had (unknowingly) occupied her usual spot on the bed- and she wanted it back.

So I apologized. 

And the kitty graciously let me continue sitting there. 

We must have stayed in her room for at least an hour or two, because after a bit of conversation and a piece of chocolate that she shared with me me- plus some urgent adulting responsibilities which both of us had to do- she told me her mother had come home. 

I hadn't known. 

Out we went to greet her, and again my friend kindly offered to share her lunch of Indian rojak- from her favorite stall in Tekka Center- with me. 

I hope I didn't take too many a piece. 

I can be carelessly snacky sometimes. 

But the rojak was really good- one of the best I've had in a long while- and I'm going to go this stall when I'm in Little India next time. 

You know how there are places which sell the ingredients like they have been re-fried four times over? 

Not for this stall- the fish cake and the fried, fried stuff were super fresh, and there was no oily, greasy aftertaste. 

The generosity of my friend and her family made me thankful I hadn't come to their home empty handed. 

For the occasion, I had, in fact, brought along a box of durian (up the bus, yes) and several apples for us girls and as as house gift for the family. 

We girls had a piece of durian each, and the rest we placed back in the fridge. 

I was told afterward that the fruit(s) had been enjoyed. 

For that I'm really glad. 

There's just one regret that I have. 

Inexperienced me had bought the durian from a stall at Bugis Street which gave me too little and charged me too high. 

I'm never going back to that stall again, and the next time we have a gathering- whether at her place or elsewhere- I'm wised up and will go get a bigger, better box for us, and one for her durian-loving family. 

From elsewhere. 

Hedgehog Had a Birthday

The Hedgehog turned a year older not too long ago. 

The plan this year had been to do something a little different from the last.

But for some reason we were still quite clueless what to do even when the date rolled around. 

I suppose it might be because we're the kind who don't necessarily have to go for the full cakes and balloons and fantastical meals but instead prefer to head straight for what speaks to us for that year. 

Some things are staple, of course. 

Like a card. 

There's always a card. :) 

This year we decided to kick off the celebrations with tang yuan because The Hedgehog likes them little balls of glutinous rice with peanut and sesame filling bobbing about in the ginger soup. 

After that was done we decided we'd go for hotpot. 

Near the MRT station at Chinatown was this place which seemed pretty good, so we went. 

Two soups- one each- of tonkotsu and tom yum- which at first made me wonder because tom yum, like mala, tends to override everything that you dunk inside, but I later found out the flavor was more complementary than overpowering. 

There was a great selection of meats- chicken, pork, and beef amongst others- on the menu, Ours, however, were mostly pork and beef as well as lamb. The meats arrived at our table beautifully laid out in square shaped platters that stacked up well and which were easy for us to pick out and dunk them in the soup shabu-shabu style. 

There were also a good variety of vegetables at the counter. Took me a while to decide, but eventually I settled on two types of mushrooms, one piece of corn, two servings of egg tofu, some carrots, and heaps and heaps of lettuce leaves. 

One thing special about this place is that they've got unlimited servings of xiao long bao. 

So, the Singaporean in us ordered five baskets in all. 

They were the highlight of the meal, as was the dessert of ice cream which we chose our favorite flavors of chocolate, rum & raisin, durian, and yam. 

The birthday celebrations didn't end with the hotpot. 

There were breakfasts afterward where we had eggs done scrambled and sunny side up all served with hash browns, organic sausages, lightly fried bread, orange juice, coffee and tea. 

Then, because a birthday month always means deals, deals and more deals, we checked out the McDonalds app and ordered in the Angus burger which came with fries and drink, but had chicken nuggets and cute little winglets too.

One evening saw us having ramen for dinner. 

Because we're Chinese. 

And even though we could have ordered Ee Mian or Hor Fun from the zichar stall at the coffee shop, The Hedgehog decided one big pot of ramen and luncheon meat frites done in the pan would do just fine. 

All in all it was a wonderful time we had. 

Yes, we did feel a little different- the emotional gap was there- but a birthday is a birthday is a birthday, and I'd like to think that The Hedgehog had a pleasant, enjoyable time.

The Avenue where I Once Lived

Digging through the drawers the other day I found a copy of my birth certificate tucked inside an envelope inside a file inside another file. 

The sight of it made me think of my birth home. 

It has been at least twenty years since I've been back there. 

The last time I went there I was with The Parent. 

We haven't been back there since. 

Not that I didn't want to. 

But each time I asked, The Parents just looked at each other and said what for. 

So this time I decided I'd come here on my own. 

My childhood memories of this place are vague. 

There's not much about the flat that I remember, unless through pictures, except that the kitchen at one end of the flat was bright and sunny, the living room was dim and cool, there were two bathrooms, and that the other bedroom on the same side as the living room was also dim and cool. 

I'm told I used to play with my toys in the living room, moving them from the toy trolley to the floor and then repeating the process all over again.

There's not much about my life there that I can recall. 

I was quite young. 

I remember being carried out to the corridor to look at the view. 

I remember being carried downstairs to the car park because The Parent wanted to show me that my Grandparents' car had really driven off after having paid us a visit.

And I remember the lift door that jammed onto The Parent's hand. 

There's however very little about the surrounding neighborhood that I can remember. 

Except maybe for the wet market across the road because there was a stall there that sold live chickens from cages, and the floor was so wet that I was always scared of slipping and falling down. 

When I came here with The Parent twenty years ago, I didn't have the camera. 

Neither did we go upstairs to the floor where we once lived. 

This time I was determined to do both. 

Together with a companion, we walked from the Ang Mo Kio MRT station towards the Avenue where I once used to stay, first crossing the busy Avenue 3, followed by a long path under the raised MRT track, across several benches, a small fitness corner, and two intersections. 

At the second intersection I made a left then walked along the entire stretch of road until I reached the Avenue that I wanted to go. 

It wasn't difficult to find the block that I was looking for.

A typical housing block that looked similar to other housing blocks in any other residential estate of the 3rd generation, the block stood in a group of five or six between an intersecting road, and the low-roofed buildings of the Industrial Park ahead.

Like many blocks built around that decade, the space between one block and the other was wide, filled with tiny grass slopes and little saplings of trees. 

We went up a little slope, crossed the airy, spacious void deck, and took a lift up to the desired floor. 

I knew which unit it was I once used to stay. 

But I didn't know how close to the staircase it was. 

And I didn't know how lovely the view was from high up there. 

The Parents had taken no pictures of the view. 

They also hadn't told me anything of what they had once seen. 

With me being only five when we moved away, this was as good as me seeing it for the first time. 

I'll tell you honestly. 

It quite took my breath away. 

I hadn't known how it would be. 

The block faced south. Eastwards was the Central Expressway, separating the blocks of public housing flats on one side with the private suburbs of bungalows, low lying condominiums and terrace houses on the other. 

In the distance eastwards were the unique neighborhoods of Lorong Chuan and Braddell, and in the distance westwards on the other side were other blocks of the same Ang Mo Kio neighborhood. 

From where I stood, I could see right up to the flats of Serangoon estate, and had I been a bit more familiar with the landmarks I might have made out which was what was where, or which buildings those in the southeast were. 

Had I stood longer, I might even have figured out which neighborhood that in the far-off horizon were. 

But as it were, I was lingering outside a flat that now was the home of someone else, and I didn't think it nice to hang around too long outside on the corridor gesticulating at buildings far away. 

I guess I'll figure it out on my own someday. 

Because that's the only way I can get a glimpse of how it must have been for The Parents when they got the keys to this flat oh-so-long ago. 

This had been their first matrimonial home. 

And this had been their own high-rise view. 

Without Further Ado @ The Sail

There was a season couple of years ago when my job required me to attend networking sessions whenever possible. 

Some of these sessions left me an impression, or at least, with an inkling of it.

Others did not. 

But time spent at a place is time not lost, and so this particular session came to mind when a name card popped out from under a stack of papers in the paperwork drawer. 

The name on the card had been the host. 

Or rather, he had been a representative from the company that had been the host. 

We'd met this young man only several days prior. 

I don't remember very much the details of that meeting- my colleague might remember it better- but the long and short of it all was that we would have access to a huge network of successful, high profile business persons across multiple industries to whom we could do targeted B2B marketing and investor pitches, plus guaranteed invitations to exclusive, show-stopping events- all for a membership subscription fee. 

It was quite an interesting deck he showed- graphs, figures, numbers, pictures of the most recent beauty pageant the company had organized, as well as footage of a convoy of Bentleys traveling along a highway. (I don't know which highway.)

He himself impressed upon us the prestige of the Bentleys, so when he extended an invitation to come for a closed door, exclusive, invitation-only event at The Sail (with drinks!), we decided to go.  

Before that, however, he warned, there was a dress code. 

"No slippers, no shorts, no singlet, (sic) The Sail," he said, "Security won't let you in otherwise."

You're the host, we're the guests, Anything You Say. 

It's funny how the brain filters things. 

I don't remember much of the crowd at the session that evening. 

Neither do I remember much of what was being said. 

it's not that I don't remember the speeches.

It's that I didn't care for them as much as I cared about the ones making them.  

There was this one guy who made a lively, sales-oriented introduction pitch about the cufflinks that he sold. 

There was this one guy who shared a business anecdote, threading into his narrative a bit of motivational quote for all present to acknowledge and applaud.

Then there was another one which I completely cannot remember.

What's strange is that none of them made an lasting impression on me, except for one- the MC/Presenter. 

It wasn't because he made points that stuck in my head, or that he was humorous, funny or witty. 

But the way he stretched out his arm and said "without further ado" every time he introduced up to the front someone new stayed with me. 

 

Consider me a bit of a stubborn stickler when it comes to how these phrases are oft used, but the image of "without further ado" makes me think of a large community hall, a large school hall, a lecture theater, an auditorium, or at least anywhere that has proper demarcation for a stage. 

It isn't often that I hear such formality in a room the size of a regular office suite on a high floor of The Sail where the walls are a normal white, the carpet an office blue, and the audience cloistered on foldable chairs in three tight rows of ten each. 

But the MC was downright sincere-as if he were at the podium on the stage of a large ballroom or an auditorium inviting a very important guest up to make his speech. 

This might have been a rehearsal. 

This might not have been. 

I don't know. 

It could have been that he thought of using this opportunity to train so that one day he could qualify as an MC in a grand ballroom the likes of what he had seen in pictures of events which the company organized. 

Or he might have considered the event of this regular-sized room of equal importance as the larger venues which pictures he had also seen.

The effort was there. 

He might not have as good the looks as some of his peers in the company had. 

He also might not have as clear an enunciation nor tone as his mentors had. 

But he had an exuberance as well as an attitude that made him a great candidate to break the ice and rally the crowd. 

I don't know whether this young man continued to play the role of MC at other similar sessions organized by the company. 

That was the first and last (networking) session I went for with said representative, and this company.

Let's just say that I'd hoped it would be a bit more fruitful, that there had been more new visitors at the session rather than a gathering of friends, that the topics shared would be more fascinating than common sense masqueraded as "business wisdom", and that there had been at least little bites of food.  

You may think it's a lot to complain about. 

But hey, there are networking sessions, and there are networking sessions. 

I go there to exchange name cards with people from different businesses. 

I don't go there to drop a stack of cards to people from the same company who are asking me to pay to join them so that I can collect more cards from my colleagues (friends) (peers) (likeminded go-getters) and just one card from someone new. 

It makes no business sense. 

And wastes my time. 

Also, I don't cheer nor give a round of applause for business persons whom I don't know, and I don't give a flying f*** even if you insist so. 

An Arteastiq Lunch

There're two things that this place is well known for. 

Art, and, Afternoon Tea. 

I've yet to come here for the Art (I've seen it)

I've also yet to come here for the Afternoon Tea. 

But one day I will. 

Especially now, after having had a meal at their outlet in Plaza Singapura. 

This is a place for the artist. 

This is also a place that will awaken or stimulate the artist inside you. 

The decor here is incredible. 

It's true.

Arteastiq is not a place where the tables and chairs exist for the (mere) purpose of function. 

It is also not a place where the decor exists to (merely) brighten up the area or to replicate an ambience for the purpose of coordination with the food. 

Instead this is a place where there has been much heart dedicated to the visual pleasure of decor, and casual dining. 

We were brought to our table right at the back near the windows- and where at other places they might have pushed tables right up to the glass so as to maximize floor space- here they had left a space between the panel and the table for the decor on the floor. 

I wish I knew what these frilly, ostrich-like, feathery things were. :D

The decor isn't restricted to filling up the space left empty on the floor. 

It also includes the ceiling where they have something that looks like dry stalks of wheat hanging down in a very neat row, the table where they've got these little plants so cute I almost wanted to bring them home, the seats and sofas where they've placed colorful square-shaped cushions that you can sink back into, and also the walls. 

The strength of aesthetics is present in the food. 

Don't be surprised if you find your food garnished and plated in 3D perspective. 

All for the 'gram, some may say, but, hey, it does whet the appetite too. 

Their menu consists of mains, small bites, desserts, pastas, salads, sandwiches and spaghetti but we decided on grilled (baked?) salmon with a cream sauce, a serving of chicken tenders, and a pot of cinnamon ginger milk tea.

The tea arrived first, swirling around gently in its pretty glass pot, with a glass cup and cinnamon stick by the side. 

It's recommended to drink the tea using the cinnamon stick as a straw. 

Let's just say that I've never tasted a teh halia as strong as this. 

The salmon too was good. 

I'd expected a small, thin, dainty slice, but, no, what came to the table was this chunk of a salmon fillet topped with a generous portion of vegetables surrounded by a sauce of rich, thick, cream. 

The vegetables were a little bitter on the palate (it's the type of vegetable) but they went well with the sauce, and we cut up the salmon into smaller pieces just so we could slather the whole piece with the tasty (but I forget what flavor) cream. 

The chicken tenders came last, but they were good. 

Again, my expectations were surpassed- I had thought they'd be small (like what some places serve) but these were five huge well-fried pieces laid out nicely over a bit of salad in the metal dish. 

And so filling they were. 

It must have been over an hour that we spent at Arteastiq that afternoon. 

That doesn't always happen. 

But the afternoon rains made it a lazy one, and I truly came to appreciate the cozy vibe, the homeliness, and the sense of warmth that beautiful aesthetics and strategically placed decorations can bring. 

Song Fa Bak Kut Teh

There are several foods which I feel don't quite make the best for takeaway menus. 

Bak Kut Teh is one of them. 

No doubt it is a dish that can be consumed anywhere and one should be paying more attention to the flavors of the soup than the container in which the soup was served in, but somehow, the (herbal) soup tasted a little different during that one time when we did a takeaway.

It wasn't because the food wasn't good. 

The stall in Geylang that I bought it from is quite a renowned one. 

It might have been that this sort of soup just doesn't taste well when eaten out of a plastic bowl- I don't know- but we didn't order it as a takeaway again. 

The next time we had bak kut teh was when HA was over and dine-in was permitted again. 

Friends know that I've long proclaimed my preference for the herbal (Klang) style of bak kut teh, but in recent months I have come to appreciate the peppery-white Teochew style of bak kut teh too, and whilst I do know that there are a couple of good places around town, especially along Balestier, I'm not very particular when it comes to the subtle difference between one soup and another, so I simply go for whatever's convenient at wherever I am.

Interestingly, Song Fa seems to be at most of the places that I tend to go to. 

Especially my weekday haunts- which is a great thing- because they've got this offer of a fantastic weekday lunch deal. 

It's a set with three selections that you can choose from.

The one I often go for includes a bowl of bak kut teh, a bowl of youtiao, a plate of braised peanuts (or preserved vegetables), a drink and a bowl of rice all in at $12.00.

It makes for a comfortable, affordable, heartwarming afternoon meal. 

One thing that charms me about Song Fa is how they've recreated the old-school coffee shop atmosphere. 

They've put in quite a bit of effort- the tables are arranged close together like they would be in coffee shops, there's some sort of hot water kettle (decor) at each table, you sit on heavy, square-shaped dark wooden stools to have your meal, and appropriately designed shelves reflecting the era hang on the walls. 

They're relatively fast with service here. 

And the food is always of consistent quality.

Three ribs in each bowl, the ribs are of almost equal size, with a texture so tender that I'm able to simply twist the meat off the bone using my chopsticks and dip it into the soy sauce. 

The youtiao and braised peanuts are wonderful too. 

Not only do they add a bit of (snacky) fun to the meal, the youtiao makes for a great complement to the clear, peppery soup and the peanuts add a bit of oomph to the clean-tasting rice. 

I've learnt to eat braised peanuts with rice. 

I've also learnt that to make crispy, soup-flavored youtiao you have to dunk it in the soup for no more and no less than three seconds. 

Any less you'll be eating plain youtiao, any more you'll have soft mushy youtiao. 

I've experimented. :)

You might have noticed that I haven't written much about the soup. 

I don't intend to. 

This soup is the soul of the meal. 

This soup is what you come to eat bak kut teh for. 

No words are needed to describe it. 

Other than knowing that a bowl of warm, stimulating, comforting soup is exactly what you must have on those days when the stress levels are high or when the days are damp, rainy and cold.