Tom Yum Katsu

I did my daughterly duty and took my mum to the Imbi Market this morning. Waking up early does have its plus points. I have more time to read the papers and play with the babies. Who needs an alarm clock when you can have a baby screech you awake? Mum, Mega and I jumped into the Kelisa with baby girl in tow. Baby boy was wailing for his milk so he had to stay behind. I breathe the familiar stench of chicken shit as we approach the entrance to the market. Imbi Market is for the rich tai tais because the prices are not very market-like if you know what I mean. I was looking at some of the fruit prices and they were the same as Hock Choon supermarket. Shock horror, yes I am turning into a suburban haus frau!

Met up with Sabs and Lian for lunch at Low Yat. There was a new cha chan tang that recently opened. What was the name again? Happiness Garden? Happiness Place? Something to do with joy. It’s bright, cheerful and wireless. You can even borrow a mobile charger from the counter. This place really caters to the gadget savvy of Low Yat. The food was ok but maybe we just picked the wrong ones. There are after all, more than 50 items on the menu you can order from! After we finished eating and giggling over Sabs’ holiday photos, Lian and I went to do our hair. What a tai tai day!

After 5 hours of sitting on my ass, my hair is now the envy of all women, reminiscent of a silk curtain, its shiny, bouncy and chic. Because I am worth it. 5 bleeding hours so that I no longer have to brush nor blow dry my hair. I don’t have to worry looking like an ah lian since there is no such thing as a fat lian. So I am cool! Yay! Ipodwin, Sabs, my bouncy hair and I went for dinner at our favourite cheap and cheerful Japanese on Bukit Bintang, Dontaku. Over the years, Dontaku has been witness to countless dinners as my closest friends and I lament, ponder and pour our hearts out over grilled bacon-wrapped enoki, katsudons, ox tongues, hiyashi chuukas and hot ochas. It’s a busy hole in the wall restaurant that is frequented my many Japanese men and young Chinese peeps from around the area. The best part is that it serves pork! Real pork katsudon. Real bacon. Before you get too excited, I have to be truthful. Dontaku is a little on the dodgy side, not exactly the kind of establishment where you want to be eating sashimi. The freshness is dubious and some of the booths smell faintly of pee. It all adds to the ambience, trust me! There is just something seedy about the whole place that adds to the experience. Just as we were leaving, a group of Thai girls from the massage parlour next door came sawadee-ing in. Enough said.