"So tell me, what is the best meal you've ever had?"
You know, it's funny, when you mention the word 'best', it automatically recalls to me a fine dining experience. I'm imagining one of the dinner parties that I have had on special occasions, where I have dressed to the nines, eaten dishes worth hundreds in money, savoured delicate cuisines cooked by world renowned chefs, in five star restaurants overlooking the city. This is the general idea of what comes to my mind with that question. But as wonderful as these meals are, if I really think about it, I know I've had better.
Last winter in London, I found myself facing one of those extremely long days, where you're just tired and miserable, the result of a full day in lectures and the never-ending cold, grey, gloom. I decided to go to Malaysian Hall for Nasi Paprik. They were closing at 9p.m., and I had just arrived at 8:40p.m., alone. Thankfully the cafe guys had some patience and sympathy, so I managed to gulf down a hearty and tasty meal in the canteen, while the workers cleaned up tables and stacked up chairs around me. I was so grateful for that hot plate of proper food, and it's become one of the warmer memories, the kind that glows in your thoughts, whenever I think back to it.
When I was 9 years old or so, my family took a road trip to the Scottish highlands. On our journey, we found an interesting lake with a view of the enormous northern mountains. We stopped the car, took out some food, and had a makeshift picnic on the pebbled shores - sitting down in the brisk, cold air, trying to skip stones in the water. My dad made an amazing impromptu sandwich - bread, with butter, some tuna, sweetcorn, and cheese&onion crisps, all squished in. I remember that exactly because I've made the same sandwich combo myself numerous times, years after that breakfast. It has such a weird and comforting taste, even more so, connected to that memory.
I suppose what makes these meals is, ultimately, the moments that came with them and how they made me feel. It's not so much as the expense, or the taste, or the occasion, but collectively in how you'll look back at it later in time. I know for sure that the most delicious or expensive dish in my life isn't necessarily the best meal I will ever have (although it could make top ten). Something simple like nasi lemak and ayam goreng is enough to make my mornings, as it has, on numerous occasions, when I have had it with my friends at Restoran Gembira. Topping that, how a Ramlee Burger and indomee, or a drive-thru McD outing, can save my stomach on random night out. At the end of the day, a good meal is supposed to make you feel good, regardless of price or pomp.
You know, it's funny, when you mention the word 'best', it automatically recalls to me a fine dining experience. I'm imagining one of the dinner parties that I have had on special occasions, where I have dressed to the nines, eaten dishes worth hundreds in money, savoured delicate cuisines cooked by world renowned chefs, in five star restaurants overlooking the city. This is the general idea of what comes to my mind with that question. But as wonderful as these meals are, if I really think about it, I know I've had better.
Last winter in London, I found myself facing one of those extremely long days, where you're just tired and miserable, the result of a full day in lectures and the never-ending cold, grey, gloom. I decided to go to Malaysian Hall for Nasi Paprik. They were closing at 9p.m., and I had just arrived at 8:40p.m., alone. Thankfully the cafe guys had some patience and sympathy, so I managed to gulf down a hearty and tasty meal in the canteen, while the workers cleaned up tables and stacked up chairs around me. I was so grateful for that hot plate of proper food, and it's become one of the warmer memories, the kind that glows in your thoughts, whenever I think back to it.
When I was 9 years old or so, my family took a road trip to the Scottish highlands. On our journey, we found an interesting lake with a view of the enormous northern mountains. We stopped the car, took out some food, and had a makeshift picnic on the pebbled shores - sitting down in the brisk, cold air, trying to skip stones in the water. My dad made an amazing impromptu sandwich - bread, with butter, some tuna, sweetcorn, and cheese&onion crisps, all squished in. I remember that exactly because I've made the same sandwich combo myself numerous times, years after that breakfast. It has such a weird and comforting taste, even more so, connected to that memory.
I suppose what makes these meals is, ultimately, the moments that came with them and how they made me feel. It's not so much as the expense, or the taste, or the occasion, but collectively in how you'll look back at it later in time. I know for sure that the most delicious or expensive dish in my life isn't necessarily the best meal I will ever have (although it could make top ten). Something simple like nasi lemak and ayam goreng is enough to make my mornings, as it has, on numerous occasions, when I have had it with my friends at Restoran Gembira. Topping that, how a Ramlee Burger and indomee, or a drive-thru McD outing, can save my stomach on random night out. At the end of the day, a good meal is supposed to make you feel good, regardless of price or pomp.
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