Singapore 2024

Posted on by anon

Recently I traveled to Singapore for the first time. I’d previously had a layover there, but hadn’t stepped foot out of the airport. This time, it was for a friend’s wedding. He’d been an employee at a company in Myanmar where I worked as an *unpaid* intern in the summer of 2016. We hadn’t met since, but he’s made it a point to check in every so often. It’s rare to have friends like those, so when he mentioned he was getting married the last time we chatted, and that he had wanted to invite me but was sure I wouldn’t be able to make it all the way from NYC- I said, why not? If you invite me, I’ll come. He invited me.

It was a 22-hour journey all in all (if you don’t count the time it took to get to the airport for the first leg). I had a short layover in Taipei and landed in Singapore at noon on a Friday. Coincidentally, a friend of mine was working in SG temporarily and said I was welcome to stay at his apartment. He was out of town until the following Monday, however, so I was left to my own devices for a few days.

The weekend did not seem like a good time to do anything remotely touristy, such as walking the botanical gardens. It was also extremely hot and humid, and I was weak after such a long trip. That being said, I probably could have made more of an effort to see the sights.

Day 1- Friday

On my way to pick up my friend’s apartment key, I did some last-minute research on where I should be going to eat in SG. I found an intriguing seafood restaurant called Naked Finn. The only reservation available that I could make was 8:45 the same day, so I locked that in.

After collecting the apartment key, the first order of business was to purchase some clothes. I needed more than two outfits that I could wear in the SG heat that also qualified as smart casual.

I went to the Raffles City mall and spent an hour or so shopping. I came out of it with two buttery tank tops that I love and a pair of black mom jeans that got super comfortable after just two wears. After returning to the apartment for a quick wardrobe change, I headed out for pre-dinner drinks.

My first stop was Club Rangoon. Since 2016, I hadn’t had authentic Burmese food, so I was excited to try their laphet thoke. It was delicious and everything I wanted. On the other hand, their drinks were just so-so. I ordered both the Laphet Martini and the 19th Street cocktails. I had been excited by their descriptions, but their flavor profiles were pretty dull.

laphet thoke

Next, I went to The Elephant Room just around the corner. This cocktail bar focuses on South Asian flavors and their signature cocktails are incredibly unique. Their service is also impeccable. I told the bartender I wanted something savory and he recommended the Crab Rasam. This clarified cocktail tasted like a smooth alcoholic broth with a rich umami flavor. The more I sipped on it, the more I became enamored. Unfortunately, I only had time for the one drink, but I made a note to go back on Monday the next time they opened so that I could try their Chicken Curry. I also had a very nice chat with one of the patrons sitting at the bar next to me. He recommended Mixology Salon, a bar specializing in tea-based cocktails that would be closing at the end of the month.

Crab Rasam (The Elephant Room)

I made it to Naked Finn only slightly late. I ordered a glass of brut, the oyster I had been thinking about since I made the reservation, and the chawanmushi. By the time the champagne and the oyster came, I was already crashing from the jet lag. The oyster was very good, and I ordered another one immediately after eating the first one.

At this point, I hadn’t slept for about 24 hours, so I completely forgot about taking photos for the rest of the meal. Unfortunately, that means the best dish of the trip didn’t make it into my photo roll.

The waiter who introduced the menu to me mentioned they were out of a few things, and that some were modified for the night. One of the modified items was the claypot rice. Originally, it was a “‘Nasi ulam’ donabe (claypot)” with yellow croaker (Larimichthys polyactis)- binchotan grilled, ulam herbs, sambal matah, Koshihikari rice. Instead, they had a Hong Kong-style claypot rice. At first I was dubious- I grew up there, after all- but after perusing the rest of the menu, I decided I’d go for it.

That dish was delicious. I was savoring every bite even though I really wanted to be in bed, asleep. They served it with flair, removing the lid at the table and showing the perfect, slightly charred fish resting on a bed of rice with a fragrant soy dressing and a generous amount of scallion and ginger on top. The waiter then took two spoons and thoroughly mixed the contents in front of me. I watched the dark soy sauce get dispersed evenly onto the white rice and I salivated. The dish really was reminiscent of the classic whole steamed fish with scallion, ginger, and soy sauce, and a sizzling neutral oil poured over the top to unlock the flavors of the aromatics.

I dined and (got the bill and) dashed. Fell asleep 3 times on a 15 minute trip back to the apartment.

Chilled Pacific cupped oyster (Crassostrea gigas)- served raw, house-made pink guava hot sauce, lemon verbena

Day 2- Saturday

I woke up bright and early at around 6 (thanks, jet lag). Even though it was an ungodly hour, my stomach complained about being empty, so I got up and headed to Lau Pa Sat in search of sustenance. What I really wanted was some wholesome noodle soup or something like that, but once I got to the hawker center around 8, it was very unclear which stalls were actually open and which were not. Online, it had said one of the places opened at 7, but I was turned away as I was looking at their menu. I got pretty intimidated and ended up just getting some dim sum. Braised chicken feet and pork ribs, yum! It didn’t help that right around when I arrived, hordes of runners started pouring in.

For lunch, I had booked a spot at Sushi Hare すし晴. It was on a list of best restaurants in SG, and I was intrigued by the description I read of the Taiwanese Chef Angus and his method. Honestly, it blew me away. I was able to try two things I had not tried before- tuna chin and fresh salmon roe, still within the egg membrane (sujiko). Tuna chin was not my favorite due to the fattiness of the cut, but the texture was certainly interesting. The salmon roe was a divine experience. It was pure umami, almost sweet, not at all fishy or slimy in the slightest. The best salmon roe I’ve ever eaten.

a calming atmosphere
sujiko

In the afternoon I started crashing and thought, why not go to Mixology Salon and kill two birds with one stone? I can pre-game and get caffeinated at the same time. (I’m kidding. About the pre-game part.)

Matcha Godfather

To be honest, I was disappointed. The Matcha Godfather that I ordered was cloyingly sweet and lacked the fragrance I had expected from the matcha. I quickly finished and left to catch my cable car to the venue.

I had worried that I would feel too awkward at the wedding, given the groom was the only person I knew, but he had placed me with some of his other ex-coworkers who were very welcoming and fun. The wedding itself was very cute! They had some activities that “tested” how well the bride and groom knew each other, and they told some entertaining stories. I held out as long as I could, but once the desserts started coming out I couldn’t stay awake any longer, took a quick photo with him and the bride, and went back to the apartment.

Day 3- Sunday

I had done some research and found a Korean restaurant called Um Yong Baek that specializes in dweji (daeji?) gukbap (pork and rice soup). I made a reservation for right when they opened. They weren’t quite open yet when I stepped out so I loitered at Lau Pa Sat and bought some pancakes from Munchis because they just looked so irresistibly chewy, even though I’m not a big dessert person.

I got a little confused with the system and asked the table next to me if they had ordered already, since the waiter had not come by. They told me to just flag them down, and we got to chatting after that. They were very nice and asked me about where I’d been, and also recommended some places.

I ordered the thick daejigukbab (bottom left in the menu picture). It was filling and wholesome. I was a little bummed that I wasn’t able to try their KBBQ, which is only available for dinner (no time and nobody to go with).

I didn’t do much in the afternoon. I walked back to the apartment and took a nap. When I got up I figured I should probably get some food, so I found a place called Oyster Bank that did a deal on oysters and cocktails (I know, coming from the East Coast I probably could have picked something better). After that, I walked to Sago House, a bar where their menu changes based on the ingredients in season.

It was a struggle to even order- they sat me at the bar and immediately left. Then, a server came by and asked if someone had explained the menu (no). She said she’d give me some time to consider, then left and did not come by for about 10 minutes, during which time she sat several other people, took their orders, and then chatted with the bartender while I tried to catch her eye. Finally, someone was sat next to me and I leaned over and flagged her down while she was getting that patron water.

I got the Thyme for a change– Havana Club 3 Yrs, orange, lemon, thyme, and absinthe. It was ok. When it arrived, I asked for the check because I was worried I would never get out of there at that rate.

thyme for a change

To be honest, I wish I never went there. The premise of seasonal cocktails only is one I can get behind, but the experience was one of the worst I’ve ever had. Not at all worth it, and for some reason it’s on some list for one of the best bars in Asia. I can’t recommend this bar.

Day 4 – Monday

My friend arrived back at the apartment at around 2 am in the morning (that was why I took a nap in the afternoon). We chatted a bit and then both of us crashed. The next day he rushed out to work and I had a leisurely morning, then headed out to meet him for lunch. We went to a multi-story food court near his office and then he took me to a matcha place nearby that I had been struggling to find. We made plans to meet for dinner at Song Fa for bak kut teh.

In the afternoon, I had meant to go to the gardens by the bay, but it was pouring the whole day. I just rested in the apartment, then headed out a little early before dinner so I could go to Elephant Room again.

chicken curry
king of toddy

The chicken curry was not what I was expected, in a not so great way. It was still a good cocktail, but nowhere near as tasty as the crab rasam. I also tried the King of Toddy, and that wasn’t my favorite either. I could see how both were good, but they weren’t to my personal preference.

I took a Grab to meet my friend for dinner, where we may have ordered too much food.

we did pretty well. no after photos though, you’ll just have to believe me.

I don’t have much to say about Song Fa. It’s popular for a reason- quick, cheap, and wholesome foods. Bak kut teh is pretty similar to the soups my mom made, so nothing out of the ordinary for me. It’s a good place to go as a tourist if you haven’t had that kind of thing before. I enjoyed it.

We walked back to the apartment. It was a decent walk, not too long, but after not living in SE Asia for almost 10 years, the humidity and temperature absolutely ruined me. I was ready to shower and pass out as soon as we got back.

Day 5- Tuesday

Rinse and repeat of yesterday morning. We got lunch and went up to a roofed garden area in the office building he used to work at. It was a nice little oasis. We had pasta, he took me up to the roof, where I swear I almost got heatstroke. He went back to work, and I escaped back to the air conditioned refuge of his apartment. I took another nap in preparation for the night’s activities- I had planned dinner/drinks with my just-married friend and my college friend.

My just-married friend got off work earlier than I thought he would, so I rushed to get ready and then met him at at The Elephant Room (yes, again), where I learned that he had actually never had a proper cocktail before, and didn’t really drink liquor. For some reason this had not occurred to me. I guess looking back, he didn’t really drink when we went out in Yangon back in 2016. Fortunately, he explained that it wasn’t really a conscious choice, because I had purchased an expensive bottle of Kavalan for him as a wedding present. I ended up finishing both of our crab rasams (happily). My other friend came to meet us and we walked over to The Public Izakaya where I had made a reservation.

Not too much to say about the izakaya. It was a good vibe for conversation, had a pretty decent selection for food, and had draft Japanese beer. All I can really ask for. There was a chicken cartilage skewer that was really just cartilage without the fat that usually comes with it. I loved that one.

I don’t remember what part of the chicken they said this was

Eventually our reservation time at Jigger and Pony arrived. I was entertained to find the mall that the izakaya is next door to also provides access to the hotel that the bar is in. We took a short stroll and were shown in shortly. I had been excited for this bar the whole trip. In particular, I wanted to try the Ugly Tomatoes. We all ordered one cocktail each, but then they both said they were done and encouraged me to get whatever I want (lol). I was planning on treating them anyway, so I didn’t feel too guilty doing that considering I didn’t know the next time I would be back.

greatest of all time, ugly tomatoes, strawberry fields
strawberry fields
dirty martini
first, second, and third rounds

It was a fun night catching up with my friends, and I was glad they got along well too.

Day 6- Wednesday (Departure)

My mom asked me to buy bak kut teh packets, so my friend rushed to the closest grocery with me in the morning to buy them. I had to go to the airport immediately afterwards. Then I was off to Taipei!

You were never meant to be mine

Posted on by anon

It seemed like two years passed in a dream and somehow, your words to me swelled a hundredfold and now I can sleep to the sound of your voice. My life shatters and all I can think is I wish I could call you. I wish I could call, and hear you say hello. I think if I heard your voice, the dam holding the tears back in the corner of my heart would break, because you are the key and my home is you.

I wish I could call, but I can’t. I wish I could text you, but I can’t. I feel you drawing away from me, and I want to believe it’s my own insecurity making your business seem like apathy, but I can’t. Did I go too far? Did I wander over the line too much? Did baring my heart cast you away from me? I love you too much to ask, for fear of making you say “Yes”. I am not brave enough to hear the answer.

Better to stay in this Schrodinger’s relationship for a while longer, until my heart withers away in its quiet brokenness and it no longer exults in your presence. It may be a while, but please don’t leave me alone, I ask of you selfishly. Better to bask in your rare attention than to hurt endlessly in the dark.

I can feel my pulse stuttering like an offbeat staccato every time I think about the possibility that the next time I hear your voice will be never, or that I’ll be able to tell in your voice that you’re unhappy and I am the cause. Even so- even then, I’m not sure I’ll be able to let you go. If I never ask, will you grant my wish and never tell me? Let us both stand on this teetering precipice until I lose my balance and fall, but please, don’t step to safety just yet. Let me pretend in the moment before I close my eyes that I see you fall with me, like we so often said we would do. In the end, I can only be selfish. There is not enough left of my heart to give.

The heart that beats

Posted on by anon

I have not smiled since my heart broke, the heart that beats for the parents that birthed us. I heard in your silence bells tolling and in my grief for what I thought I lost of you, I wept. 

Then, I heard your voice again. I felt my heart beat, the heart that beats for the one you live for. I tried to hide my broken heart but in my gladness at your presence, my most poignant sadness resurfaced again as if it had hidden itself until you arrived. We talked of nothing- you into the void, and me quietly baring my heart to you in little pieces. I missed you.

Slowly, I found myself smiling again. The heart that beats for you, beats again.

My father is a stranger

Posted on by anon

He felt the same as he had the past 10 years, give or take the avalanche that just tumbled off his shoulders. He thought it would go differently- that she would understand how he’d felt the whole time, how guilty he’d been. After all, wasn’t she the one who understood him the most? So why wouldn’t she look at him?

What is there to understand about a lie?

Overnight he became a stranger. My vacant gaze slides off him, the way it does when you pass people you would rather not talk to at night on the street.  An all-consuming quiet, terrible silence roars in my ears. 

Who are you? Who are you? WHO ARE YOU? 

He’d feared telling her and her sister. He worried that with their strong sense of morals, they would refuse to acknowledge him as their father. Even so, he’d never expected this. Somehow, this was worse. Clearly, she hated him. 

I DON’T KNOW YOU.


Maybe became is the wrong word. He had always been this person, after all. Nothing had really changed. But the person that I thought I had known vanished like dewdrops in the midday sun. The memories I’d so cherished flicker and turn dark one by one as I think to play them in my head. I wasn’t prepared for this. What does one do when their father turns out to be a complete stranger? I don’t hate this person. How can I, when I don’t even know him?

Did the father I loved ever exist?

He loved her, and he thought he’d done right by her, for the most part. He paid for everything, after all. Whenever she needed money, he wired it to her. He paid for her and her sister’s flights home. It was only right for their mother to pay part of it too, of course. Naturally, any of their daughters’ expenses should be split evenly between them.

Is it all about money to you?

He’d give Mom two-thirds of all his assets, he said. That was good enough, he thought. Heart breaking, I sat and wrote through tears, trembling fingers typing out paragraph after paragraph of sorrow. It’s the only thing you have left to give, I told him. Do you think this money can make up for Mom’s breast cancer? Do you think the past 10 years of her life is only worth this much? You could never make it up to her, but you can at least try.

Please, show me that you can do better.

He’d tried to explain himself when he got her email. It was a long one, two and a half pages. When she was younger and had asked him to read her writing, he had never fully paid attention. He knew his English was good, but he just hadn’t been interested. What he had read in that email, though- he hadn’t realized how different her writing was from how she spoke to him him Mandarin, or texted him in English. He tried his best to address each one of her points, fully, honestly. He got no response.

Tell me in a way I can understand.

I read the reply to my email with a sinking, drowning horror. Even after hearing everything from my mother, I hadn’t truly believed that he was a bad person. A coward, maybe. I was wrong.

How can you exist?

I didn’t think it would hurt you, he said. This wouldn’t have happened if your mom and I had lived a happy life, he said. I had tried to be nice, but it didn’t work out, he said. Not all men are perfect, most of them are not, he said. Every man has his own secret, he said. That’s my fatherly advice to you, he said. Other than having an affair, I am a kind person, he said. It is what it is, he said.

How can you possibly think this?

It was with a kind of disbelief that I sat and tried to process what he’d said. I had to reread it several times in the course of the next week. Even now, I can hardly stand to remember what he wrote, how the grief hit me all of a sudden when I realized I needed to mourn the death of a person who never existed.

I guess that’s it, then.

When he got her email, originally, he had asked her if she wanted to speak in person or over email. “Email first,” she’d said. So he’d written her and waited. And waited. Each day, he felt a little more uncertain, a little more pressure. On the second day he came back home with an agreement giving their mother what he had refused to give before. But over the next 6 days, she only met his eyes once- to tell him he should give her mother more in the divorce. Her eyes had flicked to him for a short second, stunning him silent. In the email, he had explained to her that he really didn’t have much money left. Seeing her now- he found it hard to stick to that thought. Her sister still spoke to him in what seemed like a normal way. But she… Day by day, he acquiesced a little more, until finally he found himself with hardly anything left.

It could never be enough.

He seemed to think that he was doing all he could to compensate Mom and us. He seemed fixed on this two-thirds number. He doesn’t seem to realize that keeping his lavish lifestyle on the table isn’t something that he deserves. If he gave her five-sixths, or seven-eighths of everything he would still live well enough. Somehow he had the gall to say- I’ve agreed to give you so much, what if I don’t have enough to eat in the future? My mother had said- do you think your daughters would let that happen? I think I could, if only for him to realize that a lifestyle change could be in order. I wouldn’t see him starve, but that’s not what we’re talking about.

You don’t deserve this much.

He had been their father for years and years now. The affair had only gone on for less than half that time, and even then, he had been here, hadn’t he? He only wanted them to understand that he still loved them, that that hadn’t changed. He hadn’t changed.

I don’t know if I ever want to see you again.

The day I left, he didn’t get up to see me off. I’d lain awake in bed the night before, wondering what I would say if he was there at the door when I left. I never figured it out. After the 15 hour flight, I got an email from him as I was waiting to disembark.. He said he hadn’t wanted to upset me before my long flight. He said he might not see me for a long time. He said please feel free to ask if I need anything from him. I put my phone in my pocket and I opened my eyes wide as I tried not to cry, walking briskly to immigration. In line, I wept tears that stung with sorrow and confusion. I could not understand what I was feeling. I don’t know if I am glad he didn’t see me off. I am scared, and I do not know why.

Dad, it’s too late

Posted on by anon

Mom has been cleaning out the study since before we left. These few days she’s found a hoard of things I made for her and dad. Birthday cards, mother’s and father’s days cards, drawings. She said that looking through them, she couldn’t help but weep. She said she gave the box of things I made for dad to him. She told him to look at it. I think looking at it made him feel pretty bad. Maybe looking at it now, compared to then, suddenly made him realize what he fucked up. I don’t think he ever really appreciated anything I made him growing up. Anything I wrote or drew for him he treated like a chore to look at. 

Anyways- I think the guilt is what made him pay for mom’s flight over here. She mentioned that she was worried about me, and I guess he is too after seeing all that. People say it’s never too late, but I think it is. He realized too late what it meant for us to love him. He realized too late that what he did destroyed what we had.

I love the dad I thought I had, but I guess it’s like loving God. It’s just a concept.

Drowning in the wake of my parents’ divorce

Posted on by anon

My stomach hurts.

Is it normal? Or is it because my parents are in the dining room spitting toxicities at each other in the form of exasperated snide comments?

I’m an unwilling witness.

How does he claim to love us but now he’s asking her to pay him back for all he’s given us?

Has that been hanging on his mind? How much he spent on us? I would have been happier believing he gave us all without regret, but truth is important. Better to know who my father is, better later than never.

I’m gladly heartbroken to know. The father I loved was but an illusion. He was a carefully crafted one-way mirror. How merciful, how merciless, it was for him to deceive us for so long. Is a long love that turns out to be fool’s gold better than having the real thing, only for that, too, to go away? Either way, it turns to dust in our hands. I watch it trickle into the brisk wind of life.

I feel sick. My heart feels like it will leap out of my throat. My gut sits like a rock, aching. My memories war with the lies I know now- the words I’ve heard him say. How- do I exist?

I’m not ready for the new horizon.

The pier was ripped out from under me and I’ve been swallowed by the frantic sea.

The current is cruel. I think it will drag me away whether I’m ready or not.

I fear I will forget what the pier looked like- what it felt like under my feet.

Solid. Reassuring.

Salad for Salad Nay-Sayers

Posted on by anon

I met some of my gaming friends for the first time this past May for one of their graduations. These guys had said multiple times before that they do not like salads. I set out to prove them wrong.

  • 1/2 red onion
  • 1 lemon
  • 1 lime
  • 2 tbsp fish sauce
  • salad vegetables of choice
    • preferred: romaine, red leaf lettuce
    • alternatives: endives, radicchio, iceberg
  • chili peppers of choice, to taste (optional)
    • preferred: green Thai chilies (bird’s eye)
    • alternatives: jalapeno, serrano
  • protein of choice
    • preferred: flank steak, flat iron steak
    • alternatives: chicken, shrimp, fish
  • pasta (optional)
  • other salad ingredients (optional)
    • cucumbers
    • tomatoes
    • oranges
    • corn
    • chickpeas, black beans, or other legumes
  1. If you’re using steak and broiling it in the oven, heat it up and apply the dry rub to the steak now.
  2. If you’re adding pasta, set the water to boil now.
  3. Slice the red onion finely and juice the lemon and lime. Finely chop the peppers. Combine and let marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.
  4. Finely slice or dice the salad ingredients. The smaller the pieces, the better the incorporation of the flavors.
  5. At some point during step 4, the oven should have come to temp and the pot should be boiling. Put your pasta and steak in to cook and continue with the other prep.
  6. When your protein is ready, cut it to the desired size and combine with all the other ingredients. Mix well. (You can also have the protein on the side if that’s what you prefer.)

They were all pretty shocked by how good this salad was. My friend’s mom also complimented it. Huge win in my book.

Non-Recipe: Pandebono Beef Tongue Sandwich

Posted on by anon

This isn’t really a recipe, more a storytelling post for my own entertainment.
tl;dr I had the great idea to combine two things that probably are not often or at all put together: pan-fried beef tongue and pandebono (Colombian cheese bread).

I made a trip out to Industry City with my roommate for the Brooklyn Crush Wine & Artisanal Food Festival last weekend. Since we were out there anyway, I explored the area on Google Maps to see if there was anything worth stopping by. Turns out Japan Village is around the corner, so naturally I had to do some grocery shopping. Roommate (and 5 bottles of mead–see postscript) in tow, I excitedly roamed around the supermarket. While it was smaller than I’d hoped–I’ve been spoiled by the huge supermarket-cum-department-stores dotting Hong Kong–I found myriad enticing items. God yes- fresh soy milk! Beef tongue! Sashimi-grade fish! Pickled plums with ume!

Inspired by the abundance of rarely-seen items, I suggested we do a Japanese dinner with sushi and fried beef tongue. An hour train ride and an hour of waiting for the rice to cook later, I make a salmon avocado roll, a chopped toro and scallion roll, and slice the remaining salmon for sashimi. Half of the beef tongue gets pan-fried with salt and pepper; my new darling cast-iron skillet gets deglazed with red wine and some garlic powder for a simple pan sauce.

Feasting

Long context short, I had a portion of beef tongue left over. Sunday I went on a very nice date and had Colombian food for the first time. I’d mentioned I like bread so he very thoughtfully suggested we go get Colombian food and I could try pandebono, Colombian bread. It was about an hour to get to Jackson Heights, but it was worth it. We had a pleasant and conversation-filled brunch and a nice walk after.

So I had an extra pandebono (we bought two). I had an amazing idea and decided to halve the bread and use it as a bun for my remaining beef tongue. I garnished with garlic and scallion and had a red wine and garlic pan sauce on the side.

Ingredients

pandebono
about 1.5 oz beef tongue, thinly sliced
1 scallion
1 garlic clove
salt and pepper to taste
(optional) 1/4 cup red wine

  1. Toast pandebono at 400 F for 3 minutes if kept at room temperature. If kept in the fridge, toast for 6 minutes.
  2. While bread is in the oven, season beef tongue with salt and pepper. Pan fry on lightly oiled pan until slightly browned on both sides (any more and it gets tough). Slice into strips.
  3. Slice the clove of garlic and scallion.
  4. (Optionally) De-glaze the pan with red wine and add a few garlic slices as the wine is simmering down.
  5. Halve the pandebono and pile the beef tongue strips on top. Garnish with garlic slices and scallion- attempt to fit all the scallion onto the bun and fail dramatically.
  6. Eat with pan sauce for dipping.
Piling it on
Assembled sandwich

To be honest, I started thinking about making this on Sunday night, but I didn’t get the opportunity to until Tuesday night, which was about the last day I could safely keep the beef tongue in the fridge anyway. Definitely worth the wait.

Story

Brooklyn Crush invited many, many vendors to the event. The venue was super packed and each vendor only got about 6 square meters of space, approximately. That’s why when we got to a vendor called All-Wise Meadery, manned by two young men, I simply noted that the Asian guy at the table was pretty cute and went about washing my glass out. Roomie taps on my shoulder and whispers something completely unintelligible in my ear. “Eh?” I turn.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“That’s Zack from Suite Life of Zack and Cody…”

The actual transcript of our whispered conversation in front of Dylan Sprouse.

I whip around to check, of course, and am completely flabbergasted. The next step is to crack up. Long story short, I end up buying five bottles of their mead. Highly recommend the Dirty Show.