The Roonster Is Back: United 3 - 2 Milan

I can’t sleep anyway, so I might as well pen down some thoughts.

For starters, it is a cracker of a match. From the wild cards of Fate which unfolded in stirring fashion to the heady, climatic finish, it was a primo encounter of football. The score line was not as barmy as that when United vanquished Roma, but in all, I’d say this is a much superior match.

United’s first goal was a howler from Dida as he deflected the ball into his own net. Wasn’t a textbook goal, but like Alan Parry said, “none of the fans in red gives a hoot”. Much has been made of Kaka’ as Milan’s main danger man, and tonight he cemented those predictions into reality. Massive credit to him for Milan’s two goals. I thought Milan was rather muted in attack, save for Kaka’s individual brilliance. His second goal, though, was a huge giveaway, nicely gift-wrapped by United’s comedic defense which gave Kaka’ miles of room to maneuver the ball into goal. When Evra clattered into Heinze, I could almost hear the screeching decibels of a freight train crash. It was cataclysmic.

Dida's goalkeeping error gifted United the first goal of the night.



The first half was in essence the bulldozing exuberance of United against the mercurial hold-up play of Milan. Milan are frustratingly expert at keeping possession and having truckloads of composure. On the contrary, United were whipping in the passes and crosses incessantly but lacked the patience to build up its chances, quite like how we played against Boro last week – hurried, fretful and kind of naïve.

Evra had a poor game, and Carrick looked out of sorts. Not the best game for Ronaldo either, although he did well to run circles around the Milan backline and keep the pressure up. As for Fletcher – another top-draw performance from tonight. He’s been immense for us in these Champion League games of late; I’ve already heard some United fans calling him Fletchinho now. :D

Milan essentially played with 10 men, cos Gilardino stinks – barely touched the ball, didn’t assist in attack – a crippled kitten on a stretcher could have posed more threat to United’s defense than a fully fit Gilardino. Pirlo too had a quiet game, save for an incisive pass to Kaka’ which thankfully, the latter was not able to make anything of.

Kaka' celebrating his goal.



The key turning point, in my opinion, was when Maldini and Gattuso came off. That was when Scholes and Giggsy started stamping their presence and class on the game, and when United commenced dictating the pace of play. It was apparent Milan missed their two bedrocks which buttressed their play. Oh, and Brocchi came on as a sub and did sod all. From then on, it was United all the way, and van der Sar was rarely perturbed, if at all. Watching United pour fourth in attack was great (kinda like good beer down the throat – rich, balmy and very satisfying eh?) but I was getting majorly nervy as I was worried that Milan would launch a counterattack and nick a sucker-punch.

United’s second was a real delight. What a masterful, scooping pass by Scholesy. And Rooney did well on the third goal as he took it quickly and decisively, but someone quipped during the post-match commentary that it was poor positional sense by Dida, and I agree. Nesta has already got Rooney’s right covered so it’s most likely he’ll shoot towards near-post, but no Dida just dawdled on the right and left a gaping hole the size of the Titanic for Rooney to put through.

An unbelievable finish, and the Old Trafford crowd erupts.



I loved it, LOVED IT when Rooney scored, ran to the corner of the pitch, fell on his knees and just cuddled up fetal position. It was as though he himself was gob-smacked by the scintillating turnaround and needed to shut out all exterior celebrations and hullabaloo just to let it all sink in. It was a private moment of genius, and how sweet it is.

Tags: Manchester United, Milan, AC Milan, Football, Soccer, UEFA Champions League, Champions League, Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, Henrik Larsson, Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic, John O'Shea, Old Trafford, Paolo Maldini, Alessandro Nesta, Kaka, Andrea Pirlo

Thank You, Barcodes: Newcastle 0 – 0 Chelski

Well thank you Barcodes; always knew I have a soft spot for you lot and it’s not just Alan Shearer. ;)

Quite unlikely candidates to hand us a lifeline this season but I’ll grab it with both hands. It was another dull-as-dishwater display from Chelski with all that hoofing, but thank goodness Newcastle withstood the test. Taylor, Butt and Bramble were immaculate (Omigoodness did I just type that about Bramble? It’ll never see the light of day again), and it was fun watching Terry getting his knickers all in a twist during the goalmouth tussles with Sibierski, who looks like a dead ringer for Frank Leboeuf. And oh, nice seeing Sir Bobby again.

And now for Les Arse to turn up the heat at the Emirates. ;)

Boo hoo hoo, Jose.



The football this weekend ain’t pretty for sure, and even United had a torrid performance against Middlesborough. Ronaldo and Scholesy had absolute stinkers, and the defense was shambolic. It was wrenchingly exasperating to see United repeatedly losing the ball with horrendous passes, I’d have expected the players to have more composure but in all it was a nervy and hurried performance. The only positive was that van der Sar made some crucial saves for us after his flapping Barthez-esque spell of late, so hopefully that’ll put an end to his recent bout of poor form.

But speaking of our defense gets me gutted, the whole first team back four ALL out injured, and Rio aggravating his groin strain. Plus, we’re facing Milan next week. =( It was a lucky escape for us this weekend with the referee denying Boro a blindingly obvious penalty after O’Shea hacked down Lee and with Chelski dropping points like a hot potato, but we’d need a MAJOR miracle to get past Milan.

But whatever. I thought we choked big time against Boro yesterday but today I was laughing my head off watching Lampard, Drogba and Joe Cole skim the ball past the Barcodes’ net and almost chewing my fingernails whole in the final four minutes. That’s the beauty of football – the confounded heartache, hair-tearing frustration with binges of unpredictability and insanity thrown in for good measure. We almost handed the league title to the rouble-guzzlers, only to have the Barbodes hand us a lifeline. Who would have thunk it?

It ain't over till it's over!



The nerves would return mid-week when we face Milan, but right now, I’m just mighty glad I can have a good night’s sleep. Onwards and upwards I say.

Tags: Manchester United, Chelsea, Football, Soccer, Premiership, English Premier League, Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo, Chelsea, Chelski, Jose Mourinho, John Terry, Frank Lampard, Andriy Shevchenko, Shevchenko, Michael Ballack, Petr Cech,

Boring, Boring Chelski: Exclusive Reactions From Around The Footballing World

Alright, the Premier League race is heating up and it's time to up the ante on my anti-Chelski campaign in the run-in to the final countdown. To kickstart the blitz, I bring to you the exclusive reactions from around the footballing world on just what they think of watching a Chelski game:

Totti: Watch Chelski? Snoresville!



Ronaldo: Snooze-fest!



Trapattoni: Man, not those boring 1-0 grinds AGAIN.



Nedved: You call this football??!



Scholes: Watching Chelski gives me an almighty headache!!



Hakan Sukur: Watching Chelski makes me fall asleep even when standing!



Raul: Watching Chelski gives me nightmares... -_-



Gattuso: Watching Chelski makes me wanna strangle someone!!
Lippi: Heeelp!!!



Sheringham: Watching Chelski makes me so outraged it gives me spasms!



Marco Metarazzi - Watching Chelski makes my poor eyes bleed!



Terry Butcher: Watching Chelski makes me wanna club myself in my own head!!



Zidane: Watching Chelski makes me wanna plunge a rivet into my eyes!
Figo: And it makes my scalp itchy!



Seaman: Watching Chelski is such a brain-wasting affair it makes me weep!
Becks: I know, I can barely keep my eyelids open!!



Distraught Fan #1: I can't believe I'm watching this crap...



Distraught Fan #2: Somebody kill me now...



Distraught Fan #3: Sweet heavens... not another Chelski match!!!!!



Soldiers: Even we in Iraq are depressed!!



Carsten Jancker: I height vatching zose borrrin tomfoolz...



Cannavaro: Watch a Chelski match? Never!!



Batistuta: Watching Chelski is a pain... PURE, SHEER, UNADULTERATED PAIN!!



Kaka: Please... don't force me to open my eyes... I beg you!!!



Becks: I'd rather listen to Victoria's CDs than watch Chelski.



Henry: Yaaaawwwn!!!



Vieri: Chelski... huh... Zzzzzzz...



Mourinho: Who's saying my team is boring??



The World: Us!!!!!!!



- THE END -

Tags: Manchester United, Chelsea, Football, Soccer, Premiership, English Premier League, Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, Henrik Larsson, Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic, John O'Shea, Old Trafford, Shevchenko, Jose Mourinho, Roman Abramovich, Chelsea, Chelski, Stamford Bridge, Francesco Totti, Trapattoni, Pavel Nedved, Hakan Sukur, Paul Gonzalez, Gennaro Gattuso, Marcello Lippi, Teddy Sheringham, Marco Metarazzi, Terry Bucther, David Seaman, Carsten Jancker, Fabio Cannavaro, Gabriel Batistuta, Batigol, Kaka, Thierry Henry, Christian Vieri

It's Insane: United 7 - 1 Roma

An insanity binge has just occurred. I can't believe it ended with this scoreline, which looks more befitting of a tennis match.

The first 20 minutes of this match were the happiest moments I have had so far in 2007. Can't remember the last time I actually shouted for joy during a football match, or when my heart pounded so hard it almost ruptured. Watching United score goal after goal in an immaculate orchestration of skill and sublimity was just so satisfying, I felt as though some irrepressible burst of effervescence and mirth was gonna explode out of me and send arcs of fireworks and rainbows and daisies dancing about, or something like that. And having the Old Trafford crowd singing "Are you City in disguise?" is really taking the cake.

The lads celebrate Smithy's goal.



The Smudger is back!!



Fergie and Queiroz in high spirits.



Never imagined in my wildest dreams that a United team - without our midfield maestro Scholesy and defensive stalwart Vidic, and missing players such as Saha, Park and Neville, and riding on the back of two successive defeats - would produce such a sterling result. Although I must say that Roma basically dug its own grave (no, make that shovelling sand over their own coffins as well) with its appalling dearth of tenacity and resolve. They never recovered from the avalanche of United goals in the first 20 minutes, never mind the rout which was to follow. Doni would get absolutely roasted by the Romanisti for he was shockingly horrific, getting steamrollered at the pulsating waves of United's offensive. Just look at how he let slip on Evra's goal which was, in all honesty, a pretty weak shot. Panucci was tracking forward too much and putting in woeful crosses and Chivu might as well wear a United shirt tonight. Pity that their fine run ended in such utter shambles.

But massive credit to United for turning around what proved to be a daunting week. We were on slippery terrain - a defeat tonight would really dent morale and may well scupper our chances in the Premier League. I said in my previous post that when the chips are down, United usually responds with buckletloads of grit and fortitude - and how I love them for it. I'm pleased as pie to see Smith getting on the score sheet again after such a long convalescence. Carrick and Fletcher (shock, shock, horror, horror) were the bedrock of our play and Carrick - though I've often slated him - you were monumental tonight, and what beauties you scored. It was the stuff of dreams.

Football365 puts it as, "one of those once-in-a-lifetime nights when everything goes right." Couldn't have put it better.

I AM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!

Carrick's been massive for us tonight.



One of United's finest European nights.



Lovin' the score board.



Tags: Manchester United, Roma, Football, Soccer, Premiership, English Premier League, Champions League, UEFA Champions League, Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, Henrik Larsson, Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic, John O'Shea, Old Trafford, Francesco Totti

Down to the Wire: Portsmouth 2 - 1 United

Three points down the bin and a goal so ridiculous I cannot find words to describe it.

Fair play to Pompey though – they did well, effectively shut Ronaldo out of the game and David James was playing like a man possessed. I got instantly queasy when I saw Richardson and Fletcher in the starting line-up, and these two provided beyond all doubt that they were abysmal, even as bit-part utility players. Can we please sell them two? I’ll throw in the gift-wrap.

United had a collective off day, although they did not play that badly – had a decent number of shots on goal but it’s just one of those games when the ball resolutely refuses to go in (Holland in its semi-final against Italy during Euro 200 springs to mind). We were exposed for our lack of depth in midfield, and could barely string 5 passes together. Van der Sar is usually sterling, but he made the mistake of parrying Pompey’s shot, which landed smack in Matt Taylor’s path for the first goal.

And the second goal – I was just shell-shocked, my jaw dropped so violently it was almost dislodged. I could hear the cash registers ringing furiously as they were flushed down the toilet by an almighty torrent – that’s right, 28 million pounds being flushed down the john. What on earth was Ferdinand thinking????

Van der Sar's expression said it all, really.



But that was not the worst part of the match. I would have swallowed the bitter pill and conceded that we deserved to lose if it had simply ended that way, with United being two goals down. But no, O’Shea actually scored shortly after during stoppage time, which was such a fabulous masterstroke of irony, that which alternated between a false beacon of hope and a resounding final nail in the coffin accompanied by screeching fiendish laughter from Chelski fans. That goal could have been a lifeline to salvage the game, or at least a harbinger of one (precious) point. But it just felt like a stupendous slap across the face.

Well, all things considered, it is not doomsday, given that we are still ahead by three points and have a superior goal difference. But with some tough fixtures in the pipeline – against Boro, City, Chelski, and against relegation teams West Ham and Sheffield United who are gonna fight for every last scrap – it is really down to the wire. As a rational football fan I should be pleased that the title race is heating up during its final lap but as a United fan I’m majorly peeved that we tripped up. But I suppose that’s the beauty of United – when the chips are down, the lads respond with buckletloads of grit and fortitude – and hopefully this current team would be no different.

As a side note, I watched the Chelski VS Spurs match, and it was so boring that my eyelids almost fell off my face from all that drooping. If I yawned anymore during that match I reckon my mouth would split at its sides. Boring, boring Chelski, always eking out 1-0 victories.

And here's to wishing that Les Arse would not just roll over and die as is their wont recently and actually give Chelski a run for their money. Surely they must do at least one note-worthy deed in the course of one season?

Tags: Football, Soccer, English Premier League, Manchester United, Cristiano Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic, John O'Shea, Alex Ferguson, Old Trafford, Portsmouth, Pompey, Harry Redknapp, David James

Late For The Clash

Just listened to an assortment of The Clash songs, and felt that I had to sit down a bit to let my mind simmer in its quiet efferverscence of just having experienced something truly great.

It's been a long time since I felt like this, but it's always a good feeling to revisit. We all need that slice of electrifying, stirring and elemental sensation once in a while, that which is only accompanied by marvelling at a prodigious level of art. That which inspires us to quiet contemplation, to humility, and to respecting somebody else's genius.

As is the case with almost all my favourite bands, I showed up at the party too late. I wasn't born back in the heady days when The Clash hit the heights of their craft. There's this lingering sadness, of envy even, of those who are older, whose age is poised for the band's arrival, and those who have watched them in concert. And so I feel like an anachronism traversing the wrong span of time, riding on the wrong crest and tide. I like different bands, but with The Clash I feel an affinity, and despite not being a fan of punk I grew to love their wide-eyed rebellion, their fast and furious delivery with that trademark raspy lyrical accent and the general sense of careening outrage and mockery.









Tags: The Clash, Joe Strummer, Mick Jones

Recollections Of Kuala Lumpur

There’s a Chinese proverb saying that it takes a confluence of constituents – the people, the place and impeccable timing – to make a singularly absorbing experience, and it’s certainly true of my stay in KL.

Much of that arresting allure I attribute to the fact that I am in a foreign country. Sure, there’s a great deal of similarity between KL and Singapore, but I think it’s suffice to not let the familiar bore me. Of course, it helps that I was sans internet access for almost the whole of my stay so I could blithely ignore all manner of correspondence and mundane matters, and actually have more time to explore, to appreciate random acts of kindness from total strangers and get into the psyche of folks and the fabric of life that pulses through the city.

Like I mentioned, KL is a lot like Singapore in many respects, but less orderly and sedate, and with more oddities. With the exception of its gridlocked traffic and some taxi drivers who tried to fleece us at every turn, I found the experience pleasant. And have I mentioned that I absolutely adore my apartment in KL? I stayed at The Ascott along Jalan Pinang, which commands an excellent view of the lofty Petronas Towers.

The living room.



Bathroom, complete with L’occitane toiletries.



The cushy bed… love having a double bed all to myself.



Another shot of the living room.



The bar downstairs. It’s called 7atenin9, and at first we read it as “Fattening” heheh. It’s actually a pun on 7-8-9, which is a tad belaboured, but it looks chic and is usually buzzin’ come late night.



By the poolside.



View of the city from the top.



There’s this great view of the Petronas Towers from the Sky Lounge on the 22nd floor.



Another shot – must say that the photo totally doesn’t do justice to how stately they look at night.



The towers in daytime.



Children playing in the wading pool in the garden next to KLCC.



Thought I’d do a collage of this rather quirky advertisement for a condominium near Ascott – it reads, “94 apartments, 95 swimming pools”, which means every apartment boasts an in-house pool which extends outwards in an infinity pool concept. Cool, huh?



My relatives dropped by for a visit in the second week, and we did a great deal within the span of one day. After breakfast we zipped down to Petaling Street for yong tau foo – Petaling Street is a rather curious and incongruous blend of modern roofing, swaying palms, red lanterns and the trademark garish Chinese signboard heralding that this is Chinatown and the province of piping hot food, elbow-jostling, and incessant cajoling and haggling. We then traversed the glitzy shopping malls at Bukit Bintang before herding into a cab for another retail foray at Mid Valley, which is this gi-normous shopping complex. It is bigger than Vivocity I think, and without the daft rejected-children’s-art designs. Add to that a train’s ride to Klang to visit my uncle Foo, a lip-smacking seafood dinner in his hometown restaurant and trooping back to his house afterwards for some chat and wine until 2am, and then returning to KL to check out the clubs at Jalan P Ramlee.

Petaling Street.



Dad had a gargantuan appetite that day. For breakfast he downed a bowl of porridge, a plateful of cakes, fruits and noodles, cereal and two omelettes and somehow still found room for yong tau foo at the hawker centre afterwards.



A scrumptious seafood dinner in Klang.



His cat, which is the fattest cat I have ever seen. You can’t tell from this picture, but when it sits down it has a nice mound of flesh bulging from its tummy like a skirt that flares beneath.



Now that I’ve got started on the food, let me elaborate (with much pleasure). My aunt in Klang would insist that the best bak gut teh is found there, but methinks the chow factor in KL is on a class of its own. From trendy bistros to fried chicken handed to you on crummy plates by the roadside, to the stretch of Chinese restaurants along Jalan Imbi, much of our experiences in KL centred on gastronomic delights. I don’t have many photos to show for it, but believe me when I say that the food is much better than that in Singapore, and for half the price. And in this Chinese restaurant called Overseas Restaurant, I tried the best char siew I have ever tasted in my entire life. It was charred at the sides (as all good char siew should be, those plastic-looking, insipid bright red char siew they serve at food courts are blasphemous), gleaming under a thin shimmer of oil and cut into hefty chunks. And you can taste its succulent, richly caramelised meats as well as the crisply burnt edges. I don’t know how to describe it – it was just damn good.

Us during the farewell lunch for Roy.



Wai Yi, myself and Sophia in Dome café.



Enjoying a sumptuous Indian lunch in Bangsar, which is this shopping and eating area with a Holland Village vibe to it.



A few colleagues also paid us a visit, and again, it was an inexorable whirlwind of shopping, eating, and more shopping. We accompanied Bryan hopping across shopping malls to search for his anime DVDs, and then stopped for a dim sum lunch and a breather. At night we trotted to the flea market near Sogo at Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman.

It was a blistering cauldron of activity – skin-to-skin crowds drenched in sweat nudging each other as they meandered through the packed streets, enterprising folks hawking their wares in lustrous voices, ubiquitous rows of food basking under the glare of effulgent lights, beckoning one to try them out – piping hot curry puffs, gleaming chocolate moist cakes, the pungent smell of laksa wafting through the dense night air, otah stacked in towering heaps, roti john sizzling in frying pans, gigantic mounds of kebab skewered on rotating blades, drinks of all sorts and colours, nasi lemak wrapped in leaves and chicken wings freshly whisked out of the pan, still glistening and frothing with oil. It was like the local neighbourhood pasar malam in Singapore times ten.

We ventured to try some of the street eats and they didn’t disappoint, including this asam laksa that got everyone’s cheeks flushed and noses perspiring cos it was so gloriously spicy. Much better than the laksa at the up market Madam Kwan’s restaurant in KLCC, I’d say. By the end of the evening we were knackered, our bodies enveloped in a sticky coat of perspiration, hair dishevelled and tongues still tingling from the divine sensation of spices, but suffice it to say that we – especially our stomachs – were immensely gratified.

Bryan relaxing on the couch after the coach ride from Singapore.



The indoor amusement park in Berjaya Times Square.



Hawkers at the flea market and their mouthwatering concoctions.



The biggest jackfruits I have ever seen.



Pens we bought for our colleagues back in Singapore. My favourite is the toothpaste model with the words “Writing” on it.



Us having lunch at Madam Kwan’s restaurant.



I realised how much I missed travelling. Back in Singapore, there are too many competing demands on my time. It’s as though I’m doling out my time in little parcels to different people and reasons, and I don’t quite get to spend enough time with myself. I sound a tad cryptic and schizophrenic here, but it’s true. One of the reasons I like writing is cos I get to hear myself think, to articulate my thoughts – and it is an immensely regenerative and enlivening process. In a way, that’s the same with travelling. It’s me in my own capsule of time, my own space, and I get to map out where my feet would tread next. There’s something intrepid and creative about the whole experience, like an artist wielding his brushstrokes on a clean slate.

Tags: Malaysia, Visit Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur, KLCC, Petronas Towers, Jalan P Ramlee, Bukit Bintang, Sungei Wang, Bangsar, Jalan Imbi, Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, Jalan Petaling, Petaling Street, Ascott, Madam Kwan's, 7atenin9, Laksa, Klang

Culinary Escapades

So after the first week of TV dinners, bento sets and dining out at fancy restaurants, Wai Yi and myself resolved to utilise the kitchen in our apartments. And cook up a storm we did. Although it was mostly simple fare with the help of ready mixes and sauces, I’d say we have done remarkably well, that coming from two novices. No pots catching fire. No getting burnt with errant splatters of oil and dashing upstairs to slather on soothing toothpaste afterwards. No fumbling with obdurately difficult-to-open pasta jars (in case you’re wondering, yes that’s the list of mishaps which have besieged yours truly during my cooking stint in London and California). And the best part of it all? No washing up, thanks to the housekeepers.

We really enjoyed the whole works – slicing and dicing, making the soups, curries, emptying the plates with gusto and even having the luxury to brew some ginger tea and have a fruit platter afterwards. Hmmm… the joys of making a hearty meal that’s piping hot with wisps of steam curling into the light and the smell of food wafting through our nostrils.

And here, is the chronology of our culinary escapades… in pictures.

First attempt – corn soup with carrots, stir fried chicken with onions and bak choy in oyster sauce.



Salmon belly soup with oyster mushrooms and omelette with tonnes of stuff – onions, garlic, crabsticks, sausages, mushrooms – the whole caboodle. I realise that I am abysmal at gauging how much ingredients I need – after I chopped and diced the ingredients it dawned upon me that I had used too many, and in the end I had to use 7 eggs so that it would look even remotely like an omelette, instead of specks of egg suffocated with extraneous ingredients.



Kailan in oyster sauce and braised mushrooms, fried chicken wings (or microwaved, rather) in fuyu sauce and leftover omelette (hey, it was 7 eggs!).



Fried egg with chopped long beans, lor bak and carrot soup and roasted corn with salt and butter.



Potato soup and stir-fried chicken chunks with tofu and long bean strips in black bean sauce.



Salmon belly soup with oyster mushrooms again (this time with an egg thrown in for good measure) and steamed rice with spare ribs in black bean sauce and mui choy (some sort of preserved vegetable glazed with sugar, the type you cook with braised pork in Hakka dishes).



Corn soup with carrots, pork patties, omelette and stir-fried leong gwa.



Chicken curry and braised pak choy with mushrooms. Special kudos to Wai Yi for coming up with the brainwave to use often-discarded vegetable stumps to garnish the dish; they kinda look like roses.



Fried egg with minced long beans, the spare rib mui choy rice again and old cucumber soup (not sure what it is called in English, in Cantonese we call it loh wong gwa).



Tom yam soup (unfortunately all the ingredients have sunk to the bottom of the bowl), fried chicken wings, and the last dish was a hodgepodge of leftover ingredients comprising cucumbers, sausages, beans, eggs and onions.