‘I wonder why I never put more of myself into studying the law,’ thought Sanasku. ‘I think of that stiff brained, tongue- tied, unimpressive looking classmate of mine, Kakii: I see in today’s paper they’re calling him one of the up-and-coming hot young lawyers for that stupid case he’s managed to win. The public is so damn easy to fool.’ (Sanasku finds fault only with other people and forgets how hard the public is-and has been-for him to fool.) With my intelligence and eloquence…’ More than once, such thoughts inspired him to resolve to hit the law books and apply to be a judge or public prosecutor, but the inspiration never lasted more than an hour.”
“Undoubtedly the most workmanlike class, and the least servile, are the cooks. They do not earn quite so much as waiters but their prestige is higher and their employment steadier. The cook does not look upon himself as a servant; he is generally called ‘un ouvrier’ which a waiter never is. He knows his power-knows that he alone makes or mars a restaurant, and that if he is five minutes late everything is out of gear. He despises the whole non-cooking staff, and makes it a point of honour to insult everyone below the head waiter. And he takes a genuine pride in his work, which demands very great skill. It is not the cooking that is so difficult, but the doing everything to time.”
George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.
“As a child, Sanasaku tended to be smug and arrogant, always ready to show off his slightest ability. He was, in a word, vaguely contemptuous of just about everything and everyone. The tendency only increased with age to the point where now he has come to find it somewhat abnormal. His sense of dissatisfaction has increased over the past two or three years such that all works of art- not only fiction but critical essays, dramatic texts, theatrical performances, paintings are remarkable to him only for their innumerable shortcomings. He has come to feel that he is the only one who can perceive their flaws and virtues (if indeed they possess any virtue), that he alone understands them. He has gone so far as to think he should therefore provide models for other writers, write works that would serve to guide them to increasingly greater accomplishments; but in the end nothing has ever materialized.”
This wine is a regular in Liquor Control Board of Ontario’s Vintages releases. “Trina Bolotas” in its name is Portuguese for grazing “acorn cracker pigs” which include acorns as part of their diet. Its distinctive taste makes for delicious roast pork even more sublime when matched with the right wine!
A blend of Alicante Bouschet, Touriga Nacional and Aragonez.
No oak here. Aged six months in stainless steel.
Aroma: It’s a tie between black raspberry and blackberry with a bit of mischievous root beer (a mark of acidity), cigar and dark chocolate in the mix.
Palate: The dark chocolate strangely travels a narrow vibrant streak down the gullet surrounded by black cherry and blueberry. Short and juicy finish with firm acidity. The acidity makes the wine better for consumption with food than for sipping.
Personality: I am straightforward, simple and utilitarian.
Food Match: Pasta sauces made with fresh field tomatoes with more defined acidity would suit the wine as well as pork made in or coated with a tomato sauce.
Cellarbility: Consume in 2026. The winery recommends consumption within 24 hours of opening.
Price: $19 CDN.
RKS Wines of Portugal Rating: 86/100. Wine Align 88.
“Hotel work is not particularly hard, but by its nature it comes in rushes and cannot be economized. You cannot, for instance, grill a steak two hours before it is wanted; you have until the last moment, by which time a mass of other work has accumulated, and then do it all together, in frantic haste. The result is that at mealtime everyone is doing two men’s work, which is impossible without noise and quarrelling. Indeed the quarrels are a necessary part of the process, for the pace would never be kept up if everyone did not accuse everyone else of idling. It was for this reason that during the rush hours the whole staff raged and cursed like demons.”
George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.
THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE SINGAPORE TIMES FROM THE WEST HIGHLAND TERRIER WRITERS OF THE WORLD
The West Highland Terrier Writers of the World (WHTWW) is an organization headquartered in Trollop Upon Tweed in the Kingdom of England. The goal of the WHTWW is the promotion of a positive and puerile image of the West Highland Terrier (Westie).
Westies should be portrayed as fluffy, white, cute, mischievous and loving. They should be photographed as brilliant white and fluffy with adorable collars.
We take strenuous objection to the publication of your exclusive story about the abduction of Rory Dylan Stephen which portrays salacious incidents no decent Westie should participate in. Opium dens, hoodlums, land mine sniffing in Cambodia, dog fights, urinating on themselves, travelling in some tacky Top Dogs entertainment troupe, pooping intentionally where “criminals” could step in it and having their cages kicked is not the Westie puppy story ANY of our members would write about. Puppies are for children to admire and look up to…cuddly and cute not involved in some raunchy tale sodden with vice, corruption, narcotics, curried fish heads and the illegal “pushing” of chewing gum.
His writings and those of Bob and Fay’s westie Dylan the Westie virtue on scandalous such as urinating on President’s Putin’s leg, dining with the Bidens, attending rock n roll concerts with Gordon Lightfoot and Drake, starring in movies with Nicole Kidman, meeting the Pope, sitting on the Ayatollah’s lap and winning the Nobel Prize are far from childish and a Westie is to be admired by children not cavorting about with humans as intelligent and thinking animals.
We are shocked the Government of Singapore will be awarding Rory a medal of valour. Westies do not interfere with human history. They were not bred for that purpose. Certainly, they can cuddle up with their master and mistress and watch “Coronation Street” or “Paw Patrol” but attending cocktail parties with Nicole Kidman and Russel Crowe is a disgrace to all West Highland Terriers.
THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: OF CURRIED FISH HEADS AND CHEWING GUM
The Singapore Times Exclusive: OF CURRIED FISH HEADS AND CHEWING GUM
Madame Fong stands there immaculate. Coldly immaculate. Brutally immaculate. Dripping like lychee syrup approaching the Cathay Pacific oversize baggage area at Singapore Changi Airport.
To the clerk she oozes care and compassion saying, “Where is my sweetie Cuddle Cakes?” The clerk hands me over and as I have peed all over myself and stink like stale ammonia, I am far from a “sweetie”.
I am leashed by a large bald Malaysian man and walked to the limousine area but not before I take a huge pee on the curb and then a elephant sized poop Mr. Malaysia steps in emitting curses in a language I do not understand. What I do understand is its fury.
“Filthy pig of a mutt” the real Madame Fong screams.
We arrive in a quiet area of Singapore in front of a huge shop house. I think it is a restaurant as I see a sign “Fong’s Curry House”. It would seem Madame Fong has a passion for running restaurants!
There is a sign outside saying “All the fish head curry and Munja cakes you Can Eat/ 32 Singapore Dollars!”
Bob prepares Japanese curry at home so I recognize the smell. The restaurant is packed. The fish head curry is served over noodles. The munja cake is group of tiny glutinous rice treats.
Like the Family Noodle Restaurant on Spadina Avenue in Toronto I am taken down to the basement and instead of an opium den I see shady characters in sunglasses selling cartons of chewing gum. Chewing gum sales, unless for medical purposes, are illegal in Singapore!
Furthermore there is a pit where patrons are spitting chewing gum wads into like it is a thrill. Chewing gum rebels! Hork out a wad of chewing gum on the streets of Singapore can land you into a mess of trouble. You can be fined up to $2,000 USD! Good on you Singapore as a dog I see wads of that filthy stuff on the streets where I walk!
I wolf down a bowl of rice and chopped Singapore Chicken and drink a gallon of Evian water and fall into a deep sleep the sounds of jet engines on my brain but not before I hear Madame Fong tell me that she has big plans for me tomorrow and if I cause any trouble she’ll put me in the pit for a dog fight. Sweet woman.
THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: TIME TO GROW UP PUPPY!
The Singapore Times Exclusive: TIME TO GROW UP PUPPY! AGAIN IT’S MADAME FONG!
I haven’t been on this earth for long. About eight months. Everything was happy and joyful except for a scolding or two.
Humans and dogs it was jump up, lick noses and have a jumpy and wonderful time. Compliments about how adorable and cute I was.
It is dawning on me as I lay in a crate in Cathay Pacific’s Boeing Dreamliner cargo hold something is very wrong. I am accustomed to the roar and the funny smelling chilly air but I have been in a crate the entire 23-hour trip and I have peed on myself. I am starving and parched and feeling dizzy.
Having my crate kicked and threats of being in some mainland China restaurant served as a hot dog plate or being used as a landmine sniffer in Cambodia and then being urinated on in the baggage transfer area by an evil baggage handler in Hong Kong was the straw that broke the Westie’s back. Yes, that man in Hong Kong was evil. But I was to, learn there is far more good than evil in Hong Kong There have been nothing but evil people involved in my “trip” which I finally realized was an ABDUCTION! Like that Getty guy Fay told me kidnapped in Rome years ago. I’ll fight like hell before they cut off my ear!
Where are Bob and Fay? They will be here any moment? If I weren’t so hungry, miserable and terrified I would be howling in misery and sadness.
All humans are obviously not like those in Toronto I met on my walks. I didn’t realize how wonderful my life was. I took it for granted.
Bob had told me I would be a puppy for a year. Well, I am beginning to think it has ended and how will I escape this predicament?
I passed out in the cargo hold and wake up in the oversize baggage area at Singapore Changi Airport.
And who is there dressed in vintage Pierre Balmain waiting for me? Madame Fong from the Family Noodle Restaurant (and subterranean opium den) on Toronto’s Spadina Avenue.
This was how the girl from Ipanema looked at the sea back then in 1963. And that’s how she keeps looking at the sea, in 1982. She hasn’t aged. Sealed in her image, she drifts through the ocean in time. If she had continued to age, she’d probably be close to forty by now. Or maybe not. But at least she wouldn’t have her slim figure anymore, and she wouldn’t be so tan. She might retain some of her old loveliness, but she’d have three children, and too much sun would damage her skin.
“But I watched the monk and listened to his playing. The narrow yet busy street with its ramshackle dwellings had little in common with the monk and the lute, but somewhere, I felt there was a deep understanding between them. The lute’s sobbing tones drifted between the rows of houses on either side, mingling with the bold cries of peddlers and the ringing of an anvil nearby. When I heard the music, flowing like a current of springwater through a murky pond, I felt as though the heartstrings of all these, happy, excited people on the street were playing a tune of nature. The monk, then, is one of my ‘unforgettable people’.”
