Remembering

My Grandparents' Home

It is hard to say goodbye to a beloved family home, and yet this is something I did twice this year.

The first goodbye was to my mother's parents' family home.  My grandfather built this house, for his wife and family of five children.  A simple single-storey bungalow, with a garage at the back, it was surrounded by an extensive garden. Here, his family grew up, and their pets ran in and out of the house as he nurtured his precious orchids in the garden. 

My grandmother kept house.  She pampered her grandchildren when they came to stay, cooked for her family and her clever fingers made the paper flowers which filled vase after vase in the house. 

Here lie our little pets

But now both have passed away.  The house, which has not been substantively changed in the last 60+ years since it was built, was showing its age.  It was time to say goodbye. 

And so my mum and her siblings proceeded to put the house on the market, and cleared the house of its contents. 

But some things could not be cleared.  The garden itself, full of fruit trees, the graves of pets who had passed away.  Our memories, of lazy weekend afternoons, having tea at my grandmother's large dining table.  Of playing hide-and-seek around the house and garden.  Of Christmases and New Years and Birthdays celebrated with the family.   And more recently, of visiting my grandmother in her final illness.

It's not likely that any developer will keep this old house.  So very soon, the house will only live on in our memories and photos.  And, of course, this post.

Inside the house, looking out at the garden

Once a Guide, Always a Guide

I have many happy memories of my days as a Girl Guide in secondary school.  Of afternoons (we used to meet every Saturday afternoon, from 2pm to 5pm) spent in all manner of activities - of starting a fire in one corner of the school field (it was a sandy rather than grassy field), of learning First Aid, of playing Kim's Game (an observation and memory game), even of etiquette lessons.  Guiding aims to train us up to be all-rounders.  I remember singing around the campfire, of going camping during the school holidays, and going orienteering in the Macritchie reservoir area (we got lost for some time and had to walk until we hit the main road).  

Guiding Badges - The Trefoil, World GG Association Badge,
Patrol Badges, and accomplishment badges

I am not sure what is left of my Guiding skills.  Certainly, the First Aid knowledge has largely dissipated over time and I'm not too sure if I can remember all the orienteering instruction either.  But Guiding was far more than just doing activities.  In a way, it was really about inculcating values in young girls, which would put them in good stead for the rest of their lives.

What are these values?  It starts with our Guide Motto: "Be Prepared".  Guiding teaches the skills for Guides to use in various situations.  But the instincts - of looking ahead, thinking, planning for contingencies and preparing for success - is embedded in this simple motto.

Guides are also exhorted to "do a good deed every day".  It teaches us to be proactive in looking out for and helping others, to be unselfish and to think of others besides ourselves.

Every Guide must know the Guide promise - the threefold promise - in order to get to wear the Trefoil (the three leafed badge).  The promise goes:

"I promise to do my best,

to do my duty to God.

To serve my country, and help other people,

And to keep the Guide Law".

Indeed a challenge for each of us to live up to, every day.

Today is World Thinking Day.  In my day, it was just "Thinking Day", but the word "World" was added in front to reflect the international movement of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts.  Indeed a time for us to think about the international sisterhood and brotherhood we all share, Guides or not, and maybe also to think about whether we are living up to the values that Guiding sought to inspire in us.

Penang Roots

I had the pleasure recently of returning to Penang together with my extended family, to visit relativees there.  I had  earlier written about my previous visit to Penang.  This time around, our extended family trip made it easier for my cousin and I to get in touch with our Penang relatives.

My great-great grandparents
and my great-grandfather (on the right)

It was also a good opportunity for me to find out more about my paternal  grandmother and her family. According to family lore, it was my great-great-great grandfather who came to Penang.  His portrait hangs in the family home, dressed in the robes of a Mandarin.  His son, my great-great-grandfather, had a few children.  How many, I am not sure - but this photo (on the left) shows my great-great-grandparents with two of their sons - one of whom was my great-grandfather.  His  daughter would become my grandmother.  (Incidentally, the photo in the picture is actually a replica of the original - why it is relatively unfaded still.  The original, much  faded, is displayed opposite to this replica.) My great-great grandparents also had (at least) one daughter.  She would become my paternal grandfather's mother - as mentioned previously, my paternal grandparents were first cousins.

Front door

My great-grandfather married a KL girl.  She had three children, one boy and two girls.  But sadly, he died young, leaving his wife to bring up the children.  Two of them would stay in Penang, but my grandmother moved down to Singapore after her marriage to my grandfather.  But whilst she may have left physically, she would retain her Penang nonya upbringing all her life - always wearing her sarong kebaya.  And of course, according to her children, she was an excellent cook!

It was thus a nostalgic journey back to Penang, to revisit our family home, with its portraits on the wall of my ancestors.  It is not a magnificent mansion like the Pinang Peranakan mansion, just the home of a more humble Baba merchant and his family.  It is a traditional home, with the carved wooden doors opening into the reception room, containing the family altar, and ornate peranakan furniture, some of which are still there today.  (Supplemented by the desktop computer and printer in one corner of course).

Behind the reception room, the house opens up into the family areas, lit up by the airwell which lit up the interior of the home.  The plants and water feature bring the outdoors indoors, a quiet oasis in busy Georgetown.

My great-grandmother's pillow

My Penang uncle has spent quite a lot of time and effort restoring his home and also in supplementing his collection of antiques and curios - many displayed in his cabinets and on his shelves.  Some have sentimental value - in particular this little leather pillow, which was used by my great-grandmother for many years.  Hmmm... I must say give me my nice soft fluffy pillow anytime!  Note also the little pair of slippers on the right.

I venture to think, that if my great-grandfather were to come back today, he would still feel that he was in familiar surroundings.  A homecoming indeed.

More photos together with others of my Penang visit(s) here.

Irish Eyes

I wrote a few years back about the Katong Convent School building, and a little about my school days. This post prompted the most comments from readers who took the time to reminesce about their school days, too.  Indeed, there was something special about our school days.  Maybe it was the fun and laughter we shared with our friends, in the process of growing up together.  Maybe it was the warmth and wit of our teachers.  And for some, maybe it was the lilt of the Irish brogue coming from the Irish nuns, in particular Sister Josephine Healy.

I should say that I did not go to Katong Convent Primary and so did not interact with Sister Jo as many others did.  But, her presence was still so prevalent even in the secondary school.  We sang hymns once a week led by Sister.  We would assemble in the hall, and Sister would be on stage leading us in song.  "From the Rising of the Sun", "Fill my Cup", "Give me Oil in my Lamp", and many more.   Her energy, and her infectious joie de vie (if I've spelt that correctly) were inspiring.  When I was in Sec 4, my principal Mrs Marie Bong decided to stage "The Merchant of Venice" and got Sister Jo and Sister Dolores (her sister) to help out.  They had a fine time indeed, correcting our phrasing, diction and emphasis as we stumbled through our lines.

Sadly, both Sisters Josephine and Dolores have passed away, Sister Dolores a year or two ago and Sister Josephine, in December last year. The IJ sisters held a memorial service for her in Holy Family church on 17 March, St Patrick's Day.  Father Michael Arro, who was at  Holy Family and Perpetual Succour for many years, was the celebrant.  Father shared his many memories of Sister Jo, remembering her compassion and kindness, but also how her Irish eyes could become fire-ry and how his French temper and her Irish temper went head to head.  Other speakers - her students - gave eulogies.  One speaker (my former teacher) told of how Sister inspired her to be a teacher too.  Others read poems.  The characteristic crisp, clear diction of the KC girl characterised each speaker.  That, too, is indeed Sister's legacy.  

Our Darkest Hour Begins

This year, we commemorate the 70th Anniversary of the Japanese Occupation of Singapore. I thought, therefore, it would be only appropriate for me to dig into my grandfather's oral history interview transcripts and feature some extracts of his interview on this blog (slightly edited by me).  By  way of background, my grandfather would have been in his mid-thirties at the time of the Occupation.  He had married a few years earlier, and had two children with a third on the way.  Sadly, he passed away a number of years ago, and so I no longer have the opportunity to ask him more about his experiences during the war.

To start off with, here is his impression of the Japanese bombing of Singapore, on 8th December 1941.

"Early that morning, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, I was then living in Jalan Eunos at the corner of Jalan Yasin and Jalan Eunos.  I heard booming of guns, rattling of windows and, I normally would have slept through it all because I was very, very tired.  When I heard all these guns and the rattling, I felt something unusual was happening and I came out and went out to the verandah there, and I saw search lights.  And all these gun firings seemed to have come from anti-aircraft gun-posts down near in Geylang Serai, at the corner of Joo Chiat Road and Geylang Road... ...We didn't hear the fall of bombs as I know them to sound but I said, "could it be that bombs are being dropped on Singapore?" ... Alright, I'll get into my MAS uniform, that is the Medical Auxiliary, and stand by the radio and see what we hear at six o'clock when the y start broadcasting.  And true enough the news came that Japanese planes had flown over Singapore...  so what I did straightaway was to get into my car and went straight to the Yock Eng Depot in Katong Road where I reported for duty."


Subsequently, my grandfather (a first-generation Eurasian) was interned by the Japanese.  His account of how this came about:

"Now, after the Japanese took over from the 15th of February, they brought out the Syonan Shimbun, which was printed I think in the Straits Times Office ...   ....I knew that all the Europeans had already much earlier assembled on the Padang to be brought in  for internment, we Eurasians didn't know whether we were ever going to be interned or not...  ... One day, we got news somehow, that we had to go to the Padang to report, and the Eurasians were to go to the SRC, where all our particulars would be taken... ... We had a long walk to get to this SRC from Jalan Eunos.  It's about five or six miles.  The eldest son was only two years old.   I carried him from the house until I reached the end of Grove Road, which is now Mountbatten road.  Tess, my wife  was going to have a baby, our third child.  And someone else carried our second child.  At Grove Road a certain Mr Ess, a friend of mine, came along in his car, took Tess and the children and all into the car.We went there we got all registered and then we walked back all the way again.

Then some days later now my name appeared in the Syonan Shimbun in thick block letters and so did many others, and we were told to report to the Toyo Hotel, just told to report to the Toyo Hotel which was in Queen Street.  And there, I had gone down that day, thinking, well, it need not be internment.  I brought about $66 or something down meaning to buy a new tyre for my wife's lady bicycle.  But when my name was called by Shinozak in the Toyo Hotel, he just rapped the table with his finger, and he said, "By order of the High Command you are to be interned." I said, "But I've only come down just as I am now." "Oh don't you worry," he said,when we take you to the place of internment, on the way we will drop at the houses and pick up things.  I had about, as I said $66 with me, I gave $60 to my brother in law  and I said, "Give this to Tess".   And I kept just six for myself because I felt, my good gracious, she needs money.

We were there up to about 12 or half-past twelve, and then all these registration of those that they intended to intern were ready... ... Well, we got into the truck and it must have come along Geylang road, and when it came to the head of Jalan Eunos, well of course we were all quiet, silent in the truck, wondering where we were going. That's the main thing.  We didn't know where we were going."

My grandfather would spend the rest of the war in Changi Prison.  My grandmother would subsequently be put in a camp together with her three young children.  Happily, the family was reunited after the war, all intact.

Hidden Gem of Singapore - Bukit Brown Cemetery

Hidden Peacock, a photo by Taking5 on Flickr.

In my last post, I told the story of a nameless ancestor who may or may not be buried in Bukit Brown cemetery and promised an update on my visit to BB cemetery itself.

Anyway, Bukit Brown cemetery is a Chinese cemetery in Singapore, which was in active use from 1922 to 1973. "Bukit" means "hill" in Malay, and "Brown" is after an earlier owner of the land, George Henry Brown, a ship-owner who arrived in Singapore in the 1840s. A name reflecting indeed the melting pot of cultures, peoples, that Singapore was then.

The cemetery is the burial place for many pioneers of the Singapore Chinese community. Others have written about the cemetery (see this nice post by oceanskies), and of the controversy surrounding it - this quiet peaceful place has to make way for an expressway in the near future. So, I will not go into it here but instead reflect on my own visit.

It was indeed a place of contrasts. Some graves were well kept, some even with fresh paint ensuring that the names and words on the gravestones remained legible. Others were overgrown - the gravestones falling over and the grass growing halfway up the stones.

Some graves were decorated with beautiful peranakan tiles, reflecting the culture and tradition of the times, or with charming little scenes carved on the stones. One was guarded by a pair of Sikh guards, assisted by their own little guard dogs.  Others were simple solitary stones.

Some plots were large (although we were unable to find the huge plot which was apparently 10 3-room HDB flats in size, surely a difficult grave to overlook?). One near the entrance, for example, had a large area demarcated in front for mourners to gather, with two stone benches on each side for the weary to rest a while. In one corner, we saw what must have been the paupers' graves - a series of small gravestones clustered tightly together.

We did not go out of our way to look for "famous" graves. But there were little direction signs indicating where these graves are and when we came across them, we did take the opportunity to look at them. So we saw the grave of Tan Seah Imm (Seah Imm Street fame), Tan Ean Kiam (Ean Kiam Place, in Katong!), the grave of Lee Kuan Yew's grandfather, the grave of a descendent of Confucius,and so on.  But there are many other graves, of less famous people, but each one a part of the Singapore story.   This useful and educational site captures their stories.

Needless to say, I was unable to find the grave of my ancestor during my visit to BB. I had asked my aunts and father if they had any clues which would help me find the grave. But, "we walked a long way in" and "there was this big round circle" are not useful tips (see adjoining photo; many graves are demarcated by "big round circles").  They did tell me that the descendents' names were written in English on the graves, so we would have been able to identify the correct grave once we found it (if we found it, that is). 

 I did have a prime suspect as to the name of my ancestor. We managed to locate the relevant sector but alas, the sector itself was somewhat large and overgrown. It was not feasible to search it for a single grave. Instead, we spent our time just absorbing the peace and tranquility of the cemetery.  It was a morning well spent. 

How do I feel about the prospect of a road going through the cemetery, destroying my great-great-grandfather's grave?  Well, I did not know of the grave in the first place so it is hard for me to feel very much about it.  I do feel sorry that this serene place has to make way for further development, but hope that some part of it can be conserved in some way.  Also, whilst the cemetery is not in active use (as in welcoming new inhabitants, that is), it is quite clear that many still come here to pay their respects to their ancestors.

If you are planning a visit to Bukit Brown cemetery, the API website provides interesting links, including a useful map (which for some reason I discovered only after my visit). 

For more photos, do check out my Flickr set.

My Grandmother's Convent School Days

I'll be going for my Sec 4 class reunion on Saturday.  It's been years since we saw each other - in those pre-email/internet days, it has been a little more difficult to keep in touch.   But this post is inspired by a far more senior group of Sec 4 girls - in fact from my grandmother's Sec 4 class from the 1930s.  In fact, besides my grandmother, my grandaunt and one of my teachers were all in this same class. 

The photo has not stood well the test of time.  But it shows a happy and cohesive little group of schoolgirls, presumably in the grounds of the Victoria Street Convent (see my earlier post about my grandfather's convent boyhood; little would this young convent boy know that his future wife would pass through the same gates, many years later).

You can see from the photo that the convent uniform used to be a little different - definitely those large collars had mercifully left the scene by the time it was my turn to don the uniform (but my convent is in Katong).
For many of these girls, their education  would end after completing secondary school.  But already, this was a privilege - for theirs was an era where many girls remained uneducated.  They would proceed to become wives and mothers; some would take up jobs.  Their lives would not be easy - within a few years they would be facing the trials of the Japanese occupation, followed by the trials of the pre-Independence years.  But the friendships and ties nurtured in these years would endure.  This year, the survivors of this class turn 90.  Those who can, still meet up regularly as they have been doing all these years.

So my wish for my classmates is that we too remain happy and healthy, well into our golden years. 

P.S.  Happy Birthday, grandma.

The NUS Baba House

Front Door
Originally uploaded by Taking5

First post of 2011!

I visited the Neil Road, NUS Baba House last month, together with my Dad's three sisters (aka Tua Kor, Ji Kor and Sar Kor - as you can see we use the typical family naming conventions).

The NUS Baba House came about through a donation by the youngest daughter of Baba Tun Tan Cheng Lock, who wanted to preserve a little Baba/Nonya culture in modern Singapore.  The house has been carefully restored to what a typical Peranakan house would be like in the 1920s. This photo featured is of the "pintu pagar", the front entrance door. This particular door is so beautiful - the carvings are so detailed and the gold and silver paint only serve to bring out their beauty. 

Sadly, no photos are allowed inside, so there are not many more photos to feature.    And, in addition to my earlier post on Peranakan houses, I've found this very detailed description online of the typical Peranakan house, so I'm not going to go into that either. I will just give a quick account of the visit and how we experienced the Baba House. 

The four of us were part of a small group touring the House together with a guide.  The group included a small family group of three people - one Baba and two Nonyas (one obviously the little old matriarch of the family) currently residing in Australia but originally from Malaysia.  They were on holiday in Singapore and wanted to take a look at the Baba House.  The rest of the group were "ang mohs".  The guide said that one of the nice things about taking groups around, is that the Peranakans in the group often chime in with their own stories and experiences. (Of course, I can imagine the downsides too). 

We started off in the reception room in the front of the house, where we heard a little on the restoration work done on the house.  Our guide explained that the colour of the house (a bright blue) was similar to the original colour, detected when layers of paint were stripped off.  Whilst the colour might appear a little bright, it would fade over time to a more muted colour. 

Walking into the next room, we looked at the photographs of the former residents of the house.  We were told that the founder of the family first came to Singapore some time in the late 1800s.  The house however was purchased by one of his son's wives.  So it was only the third generation of the family which stayed in the house.  Upstairs, we visited the main bedroom where the old lady would have stayed.  Her marriage bed was against one wall, a smaller day bed against another.  There were a number of cupboards, where I assume she would have kept her sarongs and kebaya, plus a special cabinet for her handkerchiefs.

Whilst we walked through the house, my aunts reminesced about our family home, which was in the city centre (Choon Guan Street, just behind International Plaza) and as such sadly has been torn down and (I think) a tall condo block has taken its place.  We looked at the carvings on the screen dividing the entrance reception room from the rest of the house and they started talking about how, as little children, they had to clean the carvings using a tissue on the end of a chopstick.  We walked through the courtyard, and they talked about the well which used to be in the centre of their courtyard.  They looked at the bedroom, and started talking about their grandmother's (my greatgrandmother's) bed which is of course now in the Peranakan museum.

They were not alone.  We looked at photos of a Peranakan wedding, including the heavily decked out bride.  The litttle old Nonya in our group chipped in to say that the 10 layers of clothing were so heavy, that most nonyas of her generation had stopped wearing most of them.

In some ways, we are indeed in a transition period when many older nonyas and babas are still around and can still relate stories of how they lived, and how their parents lived, so many years ago.  But this generation will not be around forever, so we have only this short time to listen to and record their stories.

The Baba House is only open by appointment, so do check the website for further details if you are interested.

Grandaunt's Pineapple Tarts

Early last year, I was blogging about my attempts at making pineapple tarts. This year, I wanted to do another batch of tarts and decided that it was a good opportunity to go back to the good old days when the family was roped in to share out the tedious work. And so I got my cousin involved with the jam and tart-making.

This year, I had also managed to lay hands on my Grand Aunt's recipe, courtesy of her daughter. The basic ingredients were similar to those in my recipe posted up last year with one small, but critical difference - the inclusion of 3 teaspoons of lard every 250g of butter. And, she used egg yolks only instead of eggs, reserving the whites to glaze the tarts and to mix with the pineapple jam to get that nice, smooth surface.

I decided to stick to my tangy jam recipe (since I rather liked the inclusion of the pineapple juice rather than sugar to sweeten the jam). I also had problems finding zero-transfat shortening (I was not going to use lard) so we omitted that for the first batch of tarts.  Anyway, we started off with the jam-making process.  My dear mother was only too happy to show how dextrous she was with her knife, as she expertly removed the pineapple skin and eyes, chopped it up and readied it for the blender.  We then blended the pineapple with the juice and stood over the stove for simply ages, stirring and waiting for it to reduce down, change colour from pale yellow to that wonderful orangey brown.  At least we could chat a bit.  Making jam alone is indeed lonely work.

The next day, I popped over to my cousin's to make the pastry (she has a better oven).  Here, we had the benefit of getting assistance from her young nephews, our bakers' apprentices.  I was amazed by the conscientious attitude displayed, especially by the older of the two.  His task was to cut out the pineapple tarts using the cutter and the mould.  It's not an easy task as the pastry mould must be pressed down just so in order to leave an imprint on the dough.  The tart must also be carefully peeled away from the mould without breaking the dough. No small feat for our young apprentice to master.  We completed a batch of some 100+ tarts, from our 500g of flour. 

I subsequently made a second batch of tarts to finish off the jam.  This time round, I got the Crisco from Phoon Huat.  I also bought a plastic pineapple tart cutter/mould for our keen young apprentice chef, which he could use when his aunty makes tarts. I thought the top of the plastic cutter was less sharp than the metallic one, and so he could cut the pastry happily without inadvertently injuring himself.

So is it better with shortening, or without?  My verdict: Go with the shortening - it really gives it a much better, more crumbly texture.  Which makes the ingredients for the pastry as follows:

250g flour; 125g butter; 1-2 tsp of veg shortening; pinch of salt to taste; 1/2 tablespoon of sugar, 1.5 egg-yolks, water.

Rest of recipe and the process remains the same as in the earlier recipe.

My Baby Bling

I had a truly enjoyable day today. First, I went to the Peranakan Museum to catch the Baba Bling! exhibition, and after that went for the Peranakan Festival with the Biggest and Best Babazaar ever (more details in forthcoming post)!

I find that I am becoming a repeat visitor to the Peranakan Museum. That's the thing about a community museum, it generates repeat visitors from members of the community.

The Baba Bling exhibition was a revelation, mostly because I found out that a number of my great-grandmother's and grandaunt's pieces were on display, without my even knowing! My aunt (one of my dad's many cousins) had loaned them to the museum for the exhibition. I went home and asked my father about it. He asked my mother whether she remembered him mentioning (months ago) something about a reception at the Peranakan Museum for people who had contributed to the exhibition. Well, now. Guess who was definitely not told about that. And I wasn't even allowed to take any photos of my own great-grandmother's utterly gorgeous hairpins, belts, earrings and most of all, her truly stunning kerosang. Talk about family treasures.

I have written about my great-grandmother in a previous post. But I don't remember her well - I was only 6 years old when she died, after all. And I certainly don't remember her gorgeous jewellery. But my mother told me that at Chinese New Year, she would put my bracelet of little gold beads (tied together with a red string) on my little wrist together with the bangles my granny gave me. The beads, were apparently handed down from generation to generation. When I went to wish my great grandmother "Kong Hee Fatt Choy" on First Day, she would feel the beads on my wrists before giving me my lovely fat red packet. (My great-grandmother was partially blind.) My very own baby bling.

I had to pass on my bracelets to my younger brother when his turn came.  But can anyone tell me the significance, if any, of these bracelets?

P.S.  Just found some of the jewellery from the exhibition featured on this site.  Take a look at these beauties (my family pieces amongst them)!

Christmas Baking

When I went to the Peranakan Museum after Hungrygowhere's Big Eat Out, I spotted something in the "Junk to Jewels" exhibition which I did not come across in my first, rather rushed visit to the Museum. It was a nonya's recipe book - not a published cookbook but a series of recipes which she had collected and copied into an exercise book. The originators of the recipes were also faithfully recorded as well, eg "Mrs X's Fried Chicken".

I smiled when I saw that because it reminded me of my mother's well-worn "Mrs Handy's Cookbook" (2nd Edition). These cookbooks probably started off the same way, when women recorded their favourite recipes in exercise books together with the source of the recipe. Finally, of course Mrs Handy published her cookbook with its references to "Kwa's layer cake" (for eg). These cookbooks also had no photos at all (hard to imagine today), and empty pages in each section. Why? Of course, the answer is so that ladies have space to insert their new additional recipes! My mother was certainly no exception. Her "Mrs Handy's" is bristling with additional recipes, cut out from magazines (or off the backs of those soup and carnation evaporated milk tins) or copied from other sources.

I must now admit that my mother and I just love reading cookbooks and collecting recipes. But we have only ever tried out a small proportion of these recipes. One of my projects, indeed, is to cook through more recipes from our cookbooks. The problem is that the rate we acquire cookbooks seems to be far greater than the rate at which we try out the recipes in them. Having said that, there is one tried and tested recipe amongst the many my mother has copied into her "Mrs Handy's" - for Shortbread Biscuits.

I remember as a child my mother happily making preparations for Christmas - the Christmas tree, the presents, the food. She would bake trays of these shortbread biscuits with her two young children "helping out" along the way. She did the heavy work (creaming the butter and sugar) whilst we assisted with cutting out the biscuits, pricking the tops with forks or toothpicks and making little snowmen out of the remnants of the dough. And eating bits of the uncooked dough as well (it was so rich in butter and sugar). We'd then put them in the oven and the smell of the baking would fill the house. The biscuits were better than any commercial shortbread. They were a big favourite with visitors because of the way they just melted in the mouth.

For various reasons, we'd stopped baking for Christmas for a few years. But this year, I had started baking again. It seemed only natural that we should bake a batch of shortbread again this Christmas. And yes, the uncooked dough was as good as I remembered...

So here's the recipe (and you know it is pretty old because it is all in ounces). Be thankful, it is at least in weight measurements and not volumes:

Ingredients

8 oz butter

6 oz granulated sugar

10 oz flour

2 oz cornflour

Instructions

1. Cream butter and sugar till white (or light)

2. Sift the flour, and fold into the creamed butter and sugar to form the dough.

3. Roll the dough out to a thickness of about 1/3rd inch. Cut out the biscuits using cookie cutters. Prick holes on top using a fork/toothpicks.

4. Bake for about 15 minutes in preheated oven (temperature of about 180 degrees C).

5. Dust with icing sugar.

A lot easier to bake than pineapple tarts, too!

Katong Shopping Centre

Katong Shopping Centre (KSC) has been a feature at the junction of East Coast Road and Amber/Haig Road for as long as I can recall. It is an old shopping mall - probably one of the first few in Singapore. In fact it was featured a few years ago in the Straits Times. I won't call it a beautiful building but I've always liked it for the characteristic circles down the length of the building (that's the car park floor). Not so long ago, the Rose Garden apartments were directly opposite KSC but they have just been emolished for en bloc development. I was probably about a week or two too late to photograph them before they went under the wrecker's ball. So I guess I need to step up the pace on this blog:-)

As a child, I remember my family going over to KSC fairly frequently. The old Emporium Holdings had a supermarket and a department store at one end of the building. We'd do the weekly supermarket shopping there and run other errands at the same time. There were a few boutiques there (my mum's favourite dress shop was there). I used to buy my school uniforms there. And something far more glamorous too (at least I thought so). There were also a number of textile shops there as well - so my friends and I bought the material for our JC prom dresses there and brought it up to the dressmaker on one of the upper floors to make it up into a dress of our own choosing. These were clearly before the days Daniel Yam started making pretty and low-cost prom and evening gowns for the teenage and young adult market.

Even today, KSC is my auntie's favourite shopping centre where she gets everything she needs and more besides. Some of the old shops are still there, plus a few food outlets, maid agencies, interior decor firms etc. Plus one ghostbuster - as I said earlier, you can get anything at Katong Shopping Centre! There have been attempts to refurbish and update the building. It is no longer a nondescript grey colour but a cheery blue and yellow (IKEA colours!) and there is a imitation Starbucks in one corner.

But KSC is indeed past its prime, outclassed and completely eclipsed by the nearby Parkway Parade. Rumour has it that it is slated for redevelopment. Admittedly, I seldom go there these days but when it goes, another little piece of Katong's history and heritage goes too.

My Great-Grandparents

In a previous post I talked about a remarkable family photo which I had seen in Penang. I was telling my aunt (or one of my father's cousins, rather) about it and she in return told me a story about my great-grandparents who are featured in that photograph.

According to my aunt, my great-grandfather travelled from China to Penang. There, he found a job working for a Penang businessman. He won the trust of this businessman, and more importantly (for me), the hand of his daughter in marriage. They then went on to have 11 children. My great-grandfather had 4 more children with another wife but the matriarch of the family was undoubtedly my great-grandmother.

I personally think that my great-grandparents were quite remarkable people. They did not follow the conventions of their time. Significantly, their many daughters were not brought up as traditional nonya girls, prepared for marriage and nothing else. Many of them were well-educated. One became a teacher, two doctors. In fact, one became the Chief Paediatrician for Singapore.

My great-grandparents shuttled to and fro between Singapore and Penang frequently, with assorted children in tow. Earlier on, my great-grandmother went back to Penang just to give birth to her children on the beautifully carved bed which her father had given her. Subsequently this bed was brought to Singapore and my great-grandmother donated it to the Singapore Museum. I visited it in the museum as a child (I remember that dusty old museum). I am happy and proud to say that I visited it yesterday, restored to glory.


My great-grandfather died when I was 1 year old and my great-grandmother, when I was 6 years old (I had just started Pr 1). But I do remember visiting her in her home (and running around) whilst she talked to my father and grandfather, the nonya matriarch to the last.

p.s. Sorry about the reflections. Bed is inside a perspex enclosure, probably to protect the hangings. Hard to photograph.

Return to Penang

It has been many years since I was last in Penang. I was there in 2001 (on work), and some 4-5 years before that, I was there for my great-grandmother's 100th birthday. That was indeed a memorable family visit. I went with my father's brothers and sister, and we spent a most enjoyable 3 days there. We did not go sightseeing around Penang (my relatives had seen it all before). Rather, the fabled hawker food of Penang was the main object of our stay.

I remember especially how some 6 of us piled into my father's cousin's car, and how he took us out of the city centre and drove us into the surrounding hills and countryside of Penang, looking for durians (didn't find any) and the best Penang Char Kway Teow, chendol and laksa (ate lots of these). Then that evening we went to a beachside restaurant for the birthday dinner - dish after dish of fresh seafood and extremely tasty food. My favourite was the steamed fish served with bee hoon that had completely absorbed the flavour of the gravy....

Of course, it was also extremely awe-inspiring to meet my 100 year old great-grandmother again (not that she could really recognise me any more) and to see my cute little second cousins (or whatever they are called). And to visit our family home where I took this photograph of an amazing family photograph of 3 of my great-grandparents and my great-great-grandmother!



Now, my father's father's father married a Penang girl. They are the two seated on the left of her mother, the old matriarch in the middle of the photo. Then, their oldest son married his cousin. Her mother is seated third to the right of the matriarch. Theirs was a Penang peranakan family, as can be seen from the kebayas worn by the ladies. And perhaps by the little bow tie around my great-grandfather's neck. My grandparents are not in this photo, unfortunately, and I do not see my father either.

I do not have many memories of my great-grandparents. My great-grandfather died when I was 1 year old, his wife when I was 6. And my other great-grandmother lived in Penang. I remember her visiting us in Singapore when I was very young and us visiting her in Penang a few years later. Similarly, I did not see my other Penang relatives regularly, except for one who came down to Singapore every now and then.

Last weekend (5-7 Oct), I went to Penang with my cousin. She had not joined us on our happy holiday the last time round and was looking forward to a similar foodie experience. Whilst my great-grandmother passed away (I think at 102 years), my cousin still wanted to see our ancestral home. We felt a little diffident, however, at ringing up and saying "Hi! Guess who?", given that we had not seen our relatives for years.

We had booked ourselves a suite in the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, the Raffles of Penang. Now this may not seem like typical behaviour for either of us (pair of skinflints). But we thought we had a good deal with the hotel's "Return to Elegance" package. Indeed, when we checked in on Friday evening, we truly appreciated our beautiful suite with its high ceilings, comfy sofa and lovely bathroom (with its two separate sinks). When we opened our window we could hear the sound of waves pounding against the seawall.

The next day, we went on a walking trail around the old part of Penang. We walked down to the Padang area. One side of the Padang is bordered by the sea, and the Esplanade. On the other three sides are the State Assembly house, the Town Hall, the City Hall and Fort Cornwallis. Indeed, the British do build to a plan. The commercial street, Beach Road, leads off from the Padang and some banks still have their presence there today.

We walked down Beach Road through the small little roads - Market Street, or the "Little India" of Penang, Chulia Street, King Street, Lebuh Ah Quee (? not exactly a typical name for this area) down to Armenian Street and Cannon Street, down to Malay Street. We walked to our family home on Malay Street and stood in front. We had debated earlier whether to knock and go in but were advised that the house had been sold following my great-grandmother's death. So we just took a few photos, had a cup of coffee and some lor bak in the coffee shop across the road.

We then went back to Armenian Street and visited the recommended "vanishing trades" shop there, which sold Nonya beaded shoes or "manek manek". Now these shops are very common in Malacca. They are ready-to-wear, and there are many designs, many colours to choose from. This was the image in our mind when we walked down Armenian Street. We did not expect to find a small shop with two men sitting and chatting in it. It did not have any distinguishing features whatsoever, except for a small cabinet on the side of the room, which, upon closer inspection, did have a few pairs of beaded shoes in it. We were to learn that in Penang, the shoes are customised for each person. No ready-to-wear and with no immediate plans to return, no point ordering either.

As I walked through the streets of old Penang, the similarities and differences between Penang and Singapore struck me. The two cities must have been so similar in the 1920s and 30s. The street names, the shophouses with their very similar architecture, even the very layout of the city. But over the years, Singapore has undergone a process of urban rejuvenation. Many of the old buildings (too many, perhaps?) have fallen victim to the wrecker's ball and modern skyscrapers have replaced them. Whilst there are many old shophouses left, particularly in the Chinatown area, they are now completely different - filled with retail outlets. In Penang, this process of rejuvenation has yet to take place. Time has stood still and alas, the main feeling is one of decay. It is difficult to walk along the five foot way because they are used in many instances as a parking lot for motorcycles, just as cars park along the narrow streets. Except for Little India, the shops were not bustling - largely quiet and in some cases, the shopholders seemed surprised to see us peering in. Heritage markers have been erected here and there, pointing to an active tourist authority, but the hard work has yet to be done.

Of course, this was just in this particular part of Penang. Other areas, for example the Penang Road stretch, bear visible signs of being made over. New pavements, in one place a pedestrianised road with restaurants on each side. And of course, down Guerney Drive, the new hawker centre and Guerney Plaza, and the new "g" hotel, are indeed bringing in the crowds. (We came away from Guerney Plaza with tonnes of shopping!). So it will be interesting to see what changes are made the next time I get round to visiting Penang.

P.S. More Penang photos here!

Katong Convent

Sigh. What does it mean when a fairly new school building (I believe it was completed around 1990 or so) is demolished so it can be built up bigger and higher? Way back in 1930, Katong Convent started in an old house by the sea, on this very spot. Taking students from kindergarten all the way up to 'O' levels, many generations of school girls passed through its doors, played in its fields and prayed by the little grotto in the corner of the garden. The sea by the fence went when the land was reclaimed and the new Marine Parade town was built. My mother spent her schooldays here. The school expanded, new wings were erected. I spent four years - my secondary school years here. Well do I remember standing beneath those flagpoles and singing the National Anthem and School Song. Well do I also remember the times when I had to run around the field preparing for my 2.4km physical fitness test. As for my classrooms, these were generally placed around the quadrangle in the middle of the school. The few steps leading down to the quadrangle from the classrooms were depressed in the middle because of the many years girls had stood or sat on them. At the beginning of each year, we would walk to the Holy Family church for mass to mark the start of school. But enough of these happy schoolgirl memories.


In 1987 much of the building was torn down. Both the primary and secondary sections moved to a new building meant to house the secondary school. My sister started her primary school there. This lovely new school was then built for the primary school. I think it a beautiful building. Much of the architecture of this front block reflects the old house the school started off in. The details of the architecture reflect the peranakan culture so prevalent in Katong.

Today, our education system is taking new directions. Smaller class sizes, more IT in the classroom. Although the school building is still so new, it is not enough to accomodate these changes. So go it must. And as an Aided School, the community must raise the money to pay our 5% (or is it 10%?) of the building costs. So the school shifted out at the beginning of the year to an old school building in Bedok. Today, I saw that the demolition team has started its work. I can only think what a waste of a beautiful building it is.

Unfortunately, the building of the new school has been affected by the Indonesian ban on sand exports to Singapore. So it will be a while more before the merry sounds of girls laughing and calling to each other float through the air in this little corner of Katong.

Tay Buan Guan

When I was a child, Tay Buan Guan was the one and only supermarket in Katong and it was here my family went to do our supermarket shopping (in addition to going to the old Siglap wet market). The selection of items was good, and the ready access to the ample carparking nearby was also very convenient.

Tay Buan Guan (also called TBG) was situated just behind the row of shophouses on East Coast Road which continues into Joo Chiat Road; it could be reached through three of the shophouses. One of these shophouses was a confectionary. My mother used to order my birthday cake there, plus other pastries to serve at the family party. The other two shophouses had different uses - can't remember exactly what but I do recall that for some years one was used as a thoroughfare into the main East Coast Road. Near the entrance to this particular building was a games arcade. The first games arcade I'd ever been to. I remember driving around the circuit and shooting some sea monster, under the supervision of my father.

Unfortunately for Tay Buan Guan, new players came onto the Katong supermarket scene - Cold Storage off Amber Road (in the old Seaview Hotel compound - it has now shifted to Katong Mall), Emporium departmental store and supermarket in Katong Shopping Centre (now closed down), and finally, the building of Parkway Parade which was and still remains the dominant player on the retail scene in Marine Parade. My family did continue going, off-and-on, to Tay Buan Guan over the years, particularly when my sister was very young. But we were often the only ones going down the aisles. Finally Tay Buan Guan closed its doors. Today, a condominium development is on the old supermarket site.

As for the shophouses? Well, these too were sold off, I believe. One is now Rumah Bebe, a retail shop selling Peranakan beaded shoes, kebayas, porcelain and other knick-knacks. The faded Tay Buan Guan sign can still be found on the pillar outside the shop, though partially hidden by a trishaw.

Those Halcyon Days

Gong Xi Fa Cai to all!

As a child I used to enjoy Chinese New Year very much. CNY celebrations started, of course, with big reunion dinners which were typically held at one of the famous seafood restaurants on Upper East Coast/Bedok Road. Thereafter, we would go back (I believe we walked) to the big old family house where my great-grandmother, the matriach of our family, stayed. I recall that there would be some activity going on upstairs of a speculative nature :-) but of course we children were not involved.

The next day was of course the day we would all be waiting for. We would begin the day visiting my father's parents who (as would be expected of grandparents) were extremely generous and thus could be relied on to start off the day extremely well. We would then go on to my great-grandmother's house, and lunch there with other members of our extended extended family. My great-grandmother had many many children, all who congregated at her home on the first day of the New Year. I used to get slightly confused by all the uncles and aunties (my father's cousins), especially given the strong family resemblances, but it did not seem to matter as all I needed to do was to say "Gong Hee Fatt Choy" politely to everyone and of course they would bestow those red packets on me.

Lunch was chicken porridge, made by the old family servant the previous day. It was (and still is) the best chicken porridge that I have ever eaten. Soft-cooked and smooth, the porridge was full of rich flavour. The toppings and condiments were put on the side so we could season it as we wished. The grown-ups would eat, chat and catch up with the family's doings (never mind that they had already had the opportunity to do so at the previous night's reunion dinner). We children would run around the garden or jump around on the furniture downstairs. Sadly, these days are long past. Time and events have loosened the bonds of the extended family. My great grandmother's house was acquired by the government many years ago so that a road could be built to service the residents of a condominium. And our old family servant went back to China and has since passed away. And, alas, I do not have her recipe for chicken porridge.

We still continue having our reunion dinner and New Year's Day lunch with my extended family. Since we now go to a hotel for lunch, the variety of food available ranges far beyond chicken porridge (but I still miss the porridge). And I must admit that I now participate in the "grown-up" conversation. Angpows have diminished considerably in number too.

Of recent years, we have also started visiting my granduncle and his daughter (strictly speaking, my cousin once removed but who I of course call "aunty"), who have "open house" on the second day. My aunt is quite a good baker so we have a selection of delectable cakes - this year, it was rich, creamy tiramisu; sweet pear tart and zesty lemon curd pie; rich chocolate cake with a sinful creamy filling. We eat our fill, listen to my granduncle (he is 89 years, and just retired last year) and play with her huge long-haired cat. We then visit my grandaunt - a remarkable, independent-minded lady who lives on her own instead of with either of her two sons and their families. She tells us about how she spends her days, going to church, meeting and talking to people. She is 85 years old but I would not be surprised if people thought she was a good 15 years younger. She still has the perfect complexion of her youth, and if her hair is less luxuriant than of old, it is still ebony black with only a few silver threads running through. I can only hope that the family genes are still strong two generations down.

The Night Before Christmas

Every Christmas Eve, my mother’s family gets together for dinner. It’s a tradition which we have had ever since I can remember. Christmas is a big thing for Eurasian families. The Christmas tree and Christmas decorations are put up. Christmas goodies (sugee cake, pineapple tarts, shortbread, fruit cake!) are baked or bought. Christmas presents are carefully selected, wrapped and placed under the tree.

My mother reminisces fondly of Christmases past. Those were the days when Christmas Eve was (for Catholics) a day of fast and abstinence. But, my grandmother would prepare Mulligatawny Soup (a hot, peppery and curry-like soup) and boil the Christmas ham all day, filling the house with delicious fragrances, thus making the fast/abstinence all the more difficult (particularly for my grandmother, who cooked the food without even tasting it!). In the days without refrigerators, the ham came cured and packed in sacking. So it was necessary to boil the ham to remove some of the salt.

My grandparents would take their children for Midnight Mass every year. Everyone dressed in their best for church then and obviously for Christmas, a special effort was made. Men came in tuxedos and women in their beautiful frocks and hats. After mass, my grandparents and their family would go home and consume the soup, ham together with a crusty loaf of French bread and a glass of wine. And, my grandfather would start pouring out liquers. For children, he would prepare a special version of Creme de Menthe, a peppermint liquer which he would then dilute with water (I remember him giving me little wineglasses of this too). They would hold open house (yes, this is in the wee hours of Christmas morning!) and everyone would have a good time, chatting, talking and eating.

These days, things are a little different. There is no fast and abstinence (praise the Lord!) and so we have our Christmas Eve dinner at regular dinner hours. And, the variety of food on offer is really quite extensive. This year, we had roast turkey and lamb in addition to the ham and soup (unfortunately, I'd put in too much coconut milk - see below - but it tasted absolute scrumptious anyway). Plus vegetables, lasagna, pasta, rice (saffron and tomato) and gigantic salads. There was fruit, chocolates and cake for dessert and wine to drink. We take out our songsheets and start caroling (not too untunefully, and quite enthusiastically). Then, the kids (defined as anyone who is not earning money) get their presents and they typically put up a little performance for our benefit. Sometimes some family members do go for midnight mass - but we certainly don’t stay up till all hours of the morning thereafter!

Our Christmas tree, too, is a little different from previous years. We have stopped putting Christmas lights or tinsel on our tree. The reason? My dear little cat thinks that the tree and the little baubles, angels and santa elves hanging from its branches are there specially for her benefit and amusement. She also does not think that our arrangements of the tree ornaments are done well and takes the opportunity to rearrange them, frequently taking them off the tree altogether. The result - we have had no choice but to adopt a minimalist style of tree decor.

Here's a recipe for mulligatawny soup below. My grandmother and mother both swear by Mrs Ellice Handy's book, "My Favourite Recipes" and this recipe is modified from her original recipe.

Mulligatawny Soup
based on Ellice Handy's My Favourite Recipes, 2nd Edition. Printed by Malaysia Printers Ltd, 1967.

ingredients
6 pieces chicken breasts - steamed and shredded

2 cubes chicken stock

3 tablespoons coriander seeds
(tablespoons refers to big serving spoons here)
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
1 tablespoon cumin seeds
1 tablespoon of peppercorns (but really to taste - put less if you prefer)
6 dried chillis (again, to taste)
1 small piece cinnamon
2 cloves
1 tablespoon tumeric powder
(the above to be all pounded together; alternatively just use a blender)

4 cloves garlic (chopped)
1/2 cup shallots (chopped)
1/2 teaspoon of fenugreek (or alba)
1 teaspoon of mustard seeds

2-3 teacups of cocnut milk (from half coconut)
Tamarind juice (use about 2 tablespoons of the tamarind pulp, soaked and drained - but this is to taste)
Salt
Oil for frying

Boiled rice

instructions

• fry the onions and garlic in a deep pan. Thereafter, add the mustard seeds, fenugreek and the pounded ingredients. Fry for a few minutes, until the mustard seeds pop.
• Add the chicken cubes, two cups (about 500ml) of water and salt and simmer for at least half an hour. Intent is to extract the spices and flavours from the spice mix.
• Strain the mixture, and to the gravy add the coconut milk, tamarind juice and taste. Note that the coconut milk should be thin coconut milk. If you are using a packet of coconut cream, dilute it. Add in more tamarind juice if you like the soup a little more sour. It is also good to have on hand some ready pounded spices just in case you feel the flavours don't quite come out. (Obviously this is not something Mrs Handy would recommend but not all of us are such good cooks!).
• When the soup is boiling, add in the shredded chicken. Pour on top of a serving of rice to eat, or eat with French bread.

Toppings

Soup can be topped with fried onions, garlic, and coriander. My grandmother also served it with fresh red chilli pounded with salt. Up to each person to decide how spicy and hot the mulligatawny soup needed to be.

Merry Christmas!