Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Welcome to meat heaven.
Here, for a price of one, you are piled up with lots and lots of meat, and you can stay there as long as you like to play cannibal.
This restaurant is Brazil Churrascaria, along the posh Sixth Avenue of the luxurious district of Bukit Timah. As its name suggests, they serve Brazilian-style grilled meat on skewers. The waiters will walk around with this skewer, supported by a bowl underneath to contain the oil and juices that drip down, and they’ll come to your table and ask you if you like this and that. You can tell them the portion you’d like, and with a great carving knife they will take it down onto your plate. There’s all parts of the body of the various domesticated animals (the cow, the pig, the chicken, the sheep, the fish).
Of course when you’re sick of all the meat there’s always the salad bar for a change of taste. They have the usual European salad, as well as local fried vegetables cooked in such a way with the herbs and such that it’s all so tantalising.
Megan, Joshua and Nigel have champagne. I am a die-hard teetotaller (out of no choice because I cannot hold my drink), so I opt for some non-alcoholic mixed-fruit cocktail, which goes down well with my food.
The price may kill the wallet, but hey, who cares? This is a once-in-a-while thing; you don’t do it so often. So what the hell, just spend the money and bring on the food!
* * *
After dinner we head down to Boat Quay for drinks, and possibly the hope of meeting up with 34/02, of whom the majority are at Grad Night at the Ritz Carlton hotel.
The three of us (Joshua is older than us) have decided to skip Grad Night. There are a variety of reasons:
1. We can’t be bothered dressing up nicely for the event, and in the case of Megan, putting on makeup. I’d probably just put on my of my checked short-sleeved shirts, worn tucked-out, with contrasting multi-pocket long pants (from Giordano’s) and my broken-down Diadora black shoe and turn up at the hotel, probably only to be kicked out because I didn’t quite make the dress-code.
2. The programme is ought to be stupid. They’ll get some lame host who will play lame games with the audience. In fact I think everyone will just sit there and talk cock to their table mates and ignore the host. For your information, my prediction was very correct. Wilfred told us that the dinner started late; it took ages to change courses; by the time we leave Boat Quay for home, I think they’re only halfway through the dinner. Thank heavens we didn’t go.
3. The music is not exactly to my taste, and it’ll be torture just to go there. I suffered during the Gamma House Function in February – I didn’t make plans to attend, but was there only on a request to perform. Thank goodness the Chamber Ensemble had its concert on the same day, and I immediately bought a ticket at the door and went in to soothe my nerves.
Back to the four of us. We settled for Jazz at Boat Quay, where they have a live performance at 9:30pm. The band consists of a pianist, bass guitarist and drummer. I pay close attention to the music. Although I don’t know the pieces well, they are intriguing… think of a trio where there is constant dialogue between all the instruments. The music fires my imagination.
I order some strange cocktail which has some fizzy sensation; I was told it was some fruit mixture with Sprite. The others are amused at it. I am given some of the liquor they are drinking and asked to give it a try; it’s quite mild, they tell me. I don’t think I can take it: I take a sip, and there’s this wallowing feeling that makes my mouth sick. The liquid seems reluctant to go down. I just force myself to swallow it.
I am a genuine teetotaller. ¶ 12/02/2003 11:49:00 am
Here, for a price of one, you are piled up with lots and lots of meat, and you can stay there as long as you like to play cannibal.
This restaurant is Brazil Churrascaria, along the posh Sixth Avenue of the luxurious district of Bukit Timah. As its name suggests, they serve Brazilian-style grilled meat on skewers. The waiters will walk around with this skewer, supported by a bowl underneath to contain the oil and juices that drip down, and they’ll come to your table and ask you if you like this and that. You can tell them the portion you’d like, and with a great carving knife they will take it down onto your plate. There’s all parts of the body of the various domesticated animals (the cow, the pig, the chicken, the sheep, the fish).
Of course when you’re sick of all the meat there’s always the salad bar for a change of taste. They have the usual European salad, as well as local fried vegetables cooked in such a way with the herbs and such that it’s all so tantalising.
Megan, Joshua and Nigel have champagne. I am a die-hard teetotaller (out of no choice because I cannot hold my drink), so I opt for some non-alcoholic mixed-fruit cocktail, which goes down well with my food.
The price may kill the wallet, but hey, who cares? This is a once-in-a-while thing; you don’t do it so often. So what the hell, just spend the money and bring on the food!
* * *
After dinner we head down to Boat Quay for drinks, and possibly the hope of meeting up with 34/02, of whom the majority are at Grad Night at the Ritz Carlton hotel.
The three of us (Joshua is older than us) have decided to skip Grad Night. There are a variety of reasons:
1. We can’t be bothered dressing up nicely for the event, and in the case of Megan, putting on makeup. I’d probably just put on my of my checked short-sleeved shirts, worn tucked-out, with contrasting multi-pocket long pants (from Giordano’s) and my broken-down Diadora black shoe and turn up at the hotel, probably only to be kicked out because I didn’t quite make the dress-code.
2. The programme is ought to be stupid. They’ll get some lame host who will play lame games with the audience. In fact I think everyone will just sit there and talk cock to their table mates and ignore the host. For your information, my prediction was very correct. Wilfred told us that the dinner started late; it took ages to change courses; by the time we leave Boat Quay for home, I think they’re only halfway through the dinner. Thank heavens we didn’t go.
3. The music is not exactly to my taste, and it’ll be torture just to go there. I suffered during the Gamma House Function in February – I didn’t make plans to attend, but was there only on a request to perform. Thank goodness the Chamber Ensemble had its concert on the same day, and I immediately bought a ticket at the door and went in to soothe my nerves.
Back to the four of us. We settled for Jazz at Boat Quay, where they have a live performance at 9:30pm. The band consists of a pianist, bass guitarist and drummer. I pay close attention to the music. Although I don’t know the pieces well, they are intriguing… think of a trio where there is constant dialogue between all the instruments. The music fires my imagination.
I order some strange cocktail which has some fizzy sensation; I was told it was some fruit mixture with Sprite. The others are amused at it. I am given some of the liquor they are drinking and asked to give it a try; it’s quite mild, they tell me. I don’t think I can take it: I take a sip, and there’s this wallowing feeling that makes my mouth sick. The liquid seems reluctant to go down. I just force myself to swallow it.
I am a genuine teetotaller. ¶ 12/02/2003 11:49:00 am
