Wining and Dining
Our Facebook friend Alexander Wong often prefaced his blogs with, “Eating, drinking and dining continue,” and then went on to describe in embarrassing details what he had consumed, with whom and where, never forgetting to heap praises on his beautiful and loving wife whenever possible. His attention to details was amazing and he must have an excellent filing system to record those little things such as the vintage of every bottle, the various culinary particulars and the names of all the people at dinner, often down to their age and when he had first them, with whom and where. I suggested to him more than a couple of times that he should begin to write his memoir before he lost all those details and fine memories, but he must have more important things to do.
Noting that my first memoir was all words and no graphics, a friend had remarked that Su’s prowess in photography might change the scene for a sequel if ever it sees the light. We will see. I look around Su’s collection of cook books around the flat over the years. Cook books are typically thick and huge and are often filled with photos of the food and ingredients and of the chef. I have noticed for example there were a few authored by the recently left Chua Lam (1941 – 2025) who was very good at filling the pages with his finished art, complete with details of the recipes. I suggested to Su maybe she could start doing that for her Su’s Kitchen production.
Meanwhile, wining and dining continued. Last week began with dinner at Amigo Restaurant with two other friends. It was down memory lane – the musicians serenading us had been around for at least ten years if not longer with the same repertoire, but the staff had got a lot younger. I missed those older familiar faces. We went for a night cap at our friend’s place in Ho Man Tin, which ended up in the small hours. I had a long and high cholesterol dinner at Zetland Hall two days later, the highlight of which was meeting an old friend and his wife who had retired to Devon for some ten years, but who had recently decided to return Hong Kong for good, for various reasons, some rather obvious. I met him again over lunch at the Yacht Club two days later and we promised each other to organize an occasion involving both Su and his wife. That same evening, Su had organized a birthday party for a good friend at a restaurant on Lockhart Road which specializes in Zhejiang cuisines, which was attended by more than a dozen friends, mostly serious food and wine connoisseurs. Su pre-ordered some signature dishes with suggestions from others while the birthday girl brought in at least six to eight bottles of French whites and bubblies; she and her husband are known to be wine specialists and had feted us in their home some six weeks ago. We had plenty of pork-based food and delicacies so much so that Mark – who is now a keen sailor – remarked that we should organize monthly gatherings at the restaurant. Su and others had posted photos and blogs in the social media and I won’t duplicate their efforts. We had been using the place before and we have already booked another dinner later in the month.
Over the weekend, we met our weekly-turned-monthly dim sum group for lunch. Somehow, the group’s chemistry had changed over time, but the will to meet was still there, definitely. A tropical storm was brewing, and before long typhoon signals were up so that we stayed home after Sunday Mass and ate what we could find in the fridge. One of the wine coolers appeared to be acting strangely. Luckily, we appeared to have been able to fix it before it became irreparable. We retired early after Tapah grew into a severe tropical storm and the Observatory had announced that Typhoon Signal No. 8 would be hoisted soon. I fell asleep with the lyrics of the Cascades 1963 “Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain” ringing in the ear amidst the real pitter patter against the window.
I woke up to more heavy rain today under Typhoon Signal No. 8, implying that I would skip my trip to Ricci Hall for scripture reading. The Wah Yan Group had scheduled a lunch at Sports Club, and everyone who had signed up for the lunch is keeping watch on the movement of Tapah. The organizer had said that if the No. 8 Signal was down by 11 am, it would be business as usual. By now, around 10:30 am, it became clear that Signal No. 8 would remain till at least 1 pm.
Despite that, my diary for the rest of the week appeared rather crowded, with amongst others, a curry dinner tomorrow on Prat Avenue which suggested plenty of libation, and an early lunch at noon at D2 place at Lai Chi Kok followed by a pre-dinner mahjong game at 4 pm around Austin MTR station and of dinner afterwards with more friends we had not met for a while. Then, we had signed up for a wine tasting and education session at ABC on Thursday night; and Saturday night had been booked long ago for our Lodge Ladies Night at Zetland Hall. That should keep us rather busy for the week.
