Chatty Lass

 

Home for eight days, thanks to a week-long work shoot. One of my childhood best friends stayed with me throughout and it was probably the longest uninterrupted stretch of time we had together in a decade. We talked, shared, laughed, cried, giggled, dined, and explored - most of all, we created more memories together.

Quality time with one of the dearest persons in my life - my uncle - at a newly opened vegan establishment.

Early birthday lunch treat at one of Asia’s Best restaurants, Gen, by my lovely friend, T.

Years later, he still remembers my favourite baklava picks from my favourite store and had them delivered to my doorstep, even while we are oceans apart.

Made my own birthday cake and I loved every bite.

Birthday morning with the little terror sleeping ever so soundly.

Spoiled with birthday blooms and homemade lemon-blueberry cupcakes (not pictured), thanks to my sweet friend, R.

Perfectly done steak and champagne (fancy!) for Fridates at home (birthday edition) with one of my favourite persons of all time.

One final hurrah for my birthday month and (presciently scheduled) before another lockdown. What a treat it was to have spent it at Nadodi, who recently made the list as one of Asia’s Best restaurants. Three friends, three bottles of wine (and then some), more than three hours of laughter, and nine courses of epic degustations.

Many years ago, before the pandemic that is COVID-19, the poet Khalil Gibran wrote, “Let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.” The title of the poem may have been On Marriage, but these exquisite words seemed fitting for 2020 and now, 2021.

From a year we felt robbed of and the beginning of another that does not look very much different from the last, may we take heart in knowing that the waiting does not last forever; whilst in the in-between, to “let the winds of heavens dance between [us]” and for those fortunate enough, to “let there be spaces in your togetherness.”

Tulips x Chanel. I cannot think of a better pairing.

A moment of respite after a game of Catch (he is still learning that the concept of the game is actually Fetch; for now, a ball tossed is a ball never returned, usually found tightly clenched between his adorable teeth).

For our first Christmas party at home, I made Garlic-Honey-Butter Roasted Chicken, a mouthful to enunciate but absolutely wonderful to partake (the eponymous marinade spiked with a thimble of white wine lovingly tenderised the meat just so); Caramelised Onions + Mushroom Galette, all of my favourite ingredients atop a pie (crumbly crust enveloped jammy onions and an umami mix of creamy Mascarpone and Parmigiano-Reggiano shavings); Double-Garlic Mashed Potatoes, cloud-like carbs that were as dreamy as can be (infusing the fluffy spuds with bulbs of slow-roasted garlic added a depth of flavour unlike any other, drizzled with ribbons of liquid gold from the roasted chicken just before serving).From ours to yours, we wish you a home overflowing with laughter and shining (ever brightly) with love. Have a very Merry (Early) Christmas!

Dream piece on the wall - a Rothko.

Simple, purposeful accents.

Adopting the philosophy for my workspace - "soulful simplicity" (Beth Kempton).

In his acclaimed show, Mister Rogers’ Neighbourhood, Fred Rogers asked two simple, weighty questions: “Who is my neighbour?” and “How can I care for my neighbour?” They were thought-provoking questions in a time where public kindness was rare, radical kindness unheard of.

For several weeks now, my friends and I have sent food gifts, care packages, and surprise pick-me-ups to each another via delivery services. Home-cooked food, handwritten notes, a Hallmark card, favourite drinks, vegan ice cream, baked and non-baked goodies, and even a whole pomelo arrived at my doorstep (the last one gave me a good laugh). Every single one a reminder that I am cared for and thought about.


Across continents and transcending time zones, communication platforms were utilised to their maximum capacity. Quality time meant FaceTiming over dinner, togetherness took on the form of tiled faces on a Zoom call, and love sounded like overlapping voices on a group WhatsApp call.

The last two months have been unprecedented. Life as we know it seems to have vaporised and our new normal is far from comforting. Pay cuts burgeoning, job losses proliferating. Births and deaths mingle within an inch of the other. Businesses tanking, markets crashing. Racism and xenophobia remain ubiquitous. The most frightening of all? We do not know when this will come to an end. Not how, when. It is humanity’s race against time.

Understandably, in this season, questions abound. Yet, only few are pertinent and relevant. For you reading this, if we do have to ask questions, why not they be the following - “Who is my neighbour?” and “How can I care for my neighbour?” Because, these questions, we have and can be the answers to.

While the questions felt different depending on the circumstances, Rogers’ answers never wavered. “His definition of ‘neighbour’ was whomever you happen to be with at the moment, especially if they are in need,” Amy Hollingsworth, author of The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers, said.

The equation is pretty much foolproof - if somebody cares about you, it is possible that you will care about others (your neighbours). The more people know they are cared for, the less isolated they feel.

May we always remember - our entire existence should be predicated on more than just ourselves, but the measure by which we give of ourselves.

What we choose to put on our plates impacts the world around us. Since last November, I made a conscious decision to adopt a mostly vegetarian lifestyle (ovo-vegetarian at least five days a week; meat only during travels, special occasions, and work events) by consuming primarily plant-based food after reading a book review with these galvanising lines - “We cannot keep the kind of meals we have known and also keep the planet we have known. We must either let some eating habits go or let the planet go. It is as straightforward and as fraught as that.”

Reports from The New York Times Climate desk showed that meat and dairy production alone account for 14.5% of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions - as much each year as from cars, trucks, airplanes, and ships combined; a staggering and deeply concerning statistic. Eventually, my next trip to the bookstore resulted in a search-and-purchase and Jonathan Safran Foer’s compelling We Are The Weather: Saving The Planet Begins At Breakfast changed my view on food forever and reinforced my choice, all the more in the wake of our global environmental crisis.

However, my choice did not come without its set of worries, topping the list are “Will food taste as good with the absence of its meaty counterparts?” and “How will I meet the required daily protein intake?” While I also pondered on my willpower to stick to the cause, something wonderful happened.

Cutting down on meat, seafood, and dairy became a catalyst for newfound creativity in the kitchen. Every Friday night in PJs with a glass of wine in hand, I looked forward to the entire process of scouring the Internet for vegetables-only recipes, tweaking the recipes to suit my tastebuds, curating the coming week’s grocery list, prepping ingredients, cooking, and even cleaning (okay, that might be slightly honeyed - I am still learning to accept, let alone like, washing the dishes). Watching the gradual simmer of dry beans and legumes into hearty stews was surprisingly cathartic; slow-roasting pumpkin cubes doused with olive oil and flecked with sea salt reminded me to slow down and breathe; sautéing onions till they melt into a luscious jammy texture was profoundly simple yet insanely delicious, much like how life can sometimes be.


Whenever I ate out, every bite became meditative - beginning with a studious examination of how each component is arranged, followed by a slow savour of flavours and textures, and finally, a heartfelt appreciation for the hands that prepared the food. As the weeks went by, knowing exactly what I put into my body became a form of self-love, a crucial realisation as I age (in what I can only hope will be gracefully).

Far from being a proselyte of healthy eating - I still love my sugary treats (fruits are never quite enough to stave off cravings for ice cream or chocolates) - what I know and believe is this: if we can all do a little something to make the planet a little better, then we must. As the book’s sub-headline suggests, saving the planet begins at breakfast.

Last week, I turned 30 years old.

For the first time since I began working six years ago, I took some time off on my birthday. While most list London or Paris as their bucket list destinations in college, I was dreaming about the vivid spice mounds and intoxicating chaos in the souks of Morocco. I decided, a month before the actual date, to make that dream a reality.


Two weeks before leaving, I was bogged down by numerous campaigns happening simultaneously, pressing deadlines, impending story edits for a book I was helping out with, completing an article, and a perpetually endless to-do list. In fact, I was writing and sending out work emails up to 30 mins before take-off.

Yet, in spite of it all, I am happy.

It sounds so simple now, but my journey to happiness was anything but. My 20s were rough - I was in a constant battle with myself; worrying about my weight, figuring out my style, assiduously feeding my trite desire to be as ‘whatever' as everyone else.

Like all things worthy, Time was needed. To be happy. To figure out how to be kind to myself. To accept and love me for me. To not just choose happiness, but to (actually) feel it.

It took three decades to say those three words and fully mean it. I didn’t wake up a week ago and flicked on a switch to be happy. It was a long, (at times) painful process that was hard-won, but I am eternally grateful for it. Because, if my journey to happiness didn’t cost so much, I wouldn’t treasure it as much.

I learned happiness when I made hard choices and tough sacrifices for the life I want. I discovered happiness when I decided to move forward instead of allowing the fear of the unknown to paralyze me. Most of all, I live in happiness when I found The One who weaved purpose into my veins thirty years ago.

Here is a little something this newly minted three-decader wants you (and herself) to know:


There is this incomparable lightness which comes from just being you, freely and gloriously. It is a freedom unlike any other - to live the life you were created for. It is my prayer that, if you have not, you will discover it some day.

Our hopes for an out-of-the-country vacation were abased to a staycation in the city due to conflicting work schedules. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise because we had the loveliest weekend at The Majestic Hotel, KL as an early birthday celebration (for me).

Our gorgeous living area in the Colonial Suite. I adored the room's classic decor, complemented with modern furnishings.

Endless supply of food in the snack drawer and mini bar (not pictured), which were refilled daily or upon request.

Our sumptuous suite with incredibly plush pillows, bolsters, and nightly turndown service. Perfect for dreamy nights (and days).

My favourite part of our staycation - the claw foot bathtub, where I spent most of my time reading and drowning any remnants of stress away.

Food galore at breakfast. Eggs in every way imaginable (a cheese omelette for me, while my companion prefers eggs over easy), slices of cured salmon, pressed juice, and smoothie cups.

Private pool overlooking the city at the Majestic Wing.

Our suite came with access to the Majestic Club Lounge, which we loved.

Afternoon tea.

Evening drinks. The Scotch eggs were excellent.

Streams of natural sunlight pouring into the Colonial Cafe.

Private entrance to and from the Majestic Wing.

I highly foresee a return in the near future, particularly for the impossibly plush bed and delightful claw foot bathtub, which we (rather obviously) took full advantage of.

Last Thanksgiving, I had just made the biggest decision where my career is concerned, and to be absolutely honest, I wouldn’t have described my attitude towards The Reason as thankful. In fact, I was anything but.

Thing is, He said 'Yes' to me 28 years ago, and has continually said 'Yes' to me since then, especially when I least deserved it. How could I deny Him of the very same answer on the one time He asked me to give up the very thing I loved most (at the time)?

My 'Yes' meant choosing Him above a job I adored. It was probably the toughest thing I've ever had to give up; my most costly worship - obedience. Little did I know, that ‘Yes’ was an open door to the best year I’ve had (to date).

Now, 365 days later, I couldn’t be more thankful for saying ‘Yes’ to an adventure of a lifetime, a life lived, and a story worth writing about.

Yet, I believe the stories we should be sharing around this holiday table shouldn’t be just about what are we grateful for, but how can we change our world because we are grateful?

Perhaps, we can start by saying ‘Yes’ more often - to Him who is worth it all, and let that answer of surrender overflow into the lives of our incredible parents who raised us, to our beautiful children who carry our heart in their hands, or to the person across from you who deserves your kindness simply because.

Your greatest story is waiting to be written. Begin by saying ‘Yes’ to it. I promise, there’ll never be a boring day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

SCRUMPTIOUS LOCAL THAI FOOD AT SOEI. The Wasabi Prawns (clockwise, second dish) was to-die-for.

There was a lovely stall serving home-cooked dishes within walking distance from our Airbnb, which made pigging out a relatively easy option.

THE TUK TUK. One of our modes of transport while we were in my favourite city.

FERRY RIDE ACROSS THE CHAO PHRAYA RIVER. We took the ferry across the famed river to get to Wang Lang Market.

WANG LANG MARKET. No two markets are the same in Bangkok.

Street food at its best.

MANGO STICKY RICE KAKIGORI AT AFTER YOU. Finely shaved ice, with cubed mangoes and sticky rice within the mountain of icy goodness.

Whilst sitting on the patio, admiring the gorgeous setting of the sun over Chao Phraya River.

Spotted - Real-life Boo beating the heat.

Massive bowl of pork ribs in the most yummy spicy-sour broth for dins.

Local beer.

SEAFOOD FEAST AT NHONG RIM KLONG. A stall at the most unlikely place. Utterly delish food.

KUAY JAB, CHINATOWN. Cuts of innards, chunky slices of roast pork, and rolls of rice noodles bathed in a hearty pork-based pepper broth.

RODE A BIKE TAXI ON THE BUSY STREETS OF BANGKOK. One for the books - nothing quite like windswept hair, plumes of smoke in your face, and too-many-to-count (almost) knee grazing incidents. Absolutely recommended.

RAINBOW MILLE CREPE CAKE. The only appropriate thing to have at the Instagram-hyped Unicorn Cafe.

AUTHENTIC THAI STEAMBOAT. Complete with a charcoal burner.

BANGKOK AT DUSK. My favourite city.