I am writing this for several reasons. There are only seven weeks remaining for 2014. Suddenly there exists a long list of to-do's with definite deadlines. I would have contributed some here which you may have overlooked. I typed more than a couple of pragmatic ones but have decided to backspace all of it. No one likes having their shortcomings pointed out. Instead, we could try looking at it constructively. I may be of help with some gifts ideas which you may consider for yourself or others, while secretly hoping that one of your resolutions for 2015 is to make more meals at home with your loved ones.

Over the years we have experienced living minimally, like out of four suitcases for too many months. However, regardless of where we were, we made efforts to control our diet with home-cooked meals. It was an uphill challenge because when you are new in town, you want to experience the taste of local flavors. Eating out is too often tempting or convenient. But the guilt of not knowing exactly what goes into our bodies kept us thinking about simple, balanced meals we can create in whichever tiny place we lived in. As long as the kitchen is adequately equipped. 

Which brings us to this question: what do we need to get the kitchen started? Assuming there is a stove already in-built, which basic items would one need in order to cook a proper meal, instead of microwaving leftover pizzas from the night before?

Short of planting my own xiao bai cai and kneading my own dough for fresh noodles, it gives me great pleasure to say that I made my own plate of wantan mee. All within 15 minutes.

You'd probably remember my previous post on the effortless 4-3-2-1 homemade char siew, and another on what I'd affectionately call "my little soldiers on standby in the freezer". If you foresee a few solo meals ahead for whatever reason (especially if you're a SAHM, or when the spouse goes on a business trip), I'd strongly recommend that you upgrade your meals by staying away from MSG-laden instant noodles. All because eating without your loved one is miserable enough, let alone eating crap without your loved one. Instead, make the dumplings and char siew in large batches, preferably on different days, zero-pressure, and you'll have many 15-minute meals to enjoy.

I've tried many marinades in different proportions and finally found one that tastes just right. When I took a closer look at what I've jotted down, it made me laugh. There's a name to this recipe. I called it the "4-3-2-1 Homemade Char Siew". 

A few things to take note of, though, if you are trying this for the first time. 

Every few weeks, JL and I make a trip down to Singapore for many reasons: catching up with old friends, meeting people regarding work, dropping by the hairdresser's (hey I've been seeing him since the turn of the century!) and running errands (banks, post office). 

In between these, we also try to plan our meals revisiting our old haunts -- good old Singapore-style Hainanese chicken rice and dry beef horfun at Chin Chin; the sole mio pizza at Mario's; tandoori chicken and curry at Samy's; nachos and Asian grilled chicken wings washed down with golden ale at Brewerkz; rojak and sliced fish beehoon soup (with milk!) at Wisma's Food Republic; xiaolongbao, braised beef noodles soup and shrimp wanton noodles soup at Din Tai Fung (the one in KL Pavilion just couldn't cut it)... A long list which is limited only by the number of nights allocated for each trip.

We are such creatures of habit that we almost always order the same items at these places. Hence our broken hearts when we walked to our regular Japanese manga store cum home-cooked food café, only to be shocked by slabs of bare concrete walls through glass panels, not even the tiniest hint of what was previously there. I'd dare say for that few minutes, hunger was taken over by sadness.

It's been three days and memories of Bon Goût at Robertson Quay still linger on. The motherly Japanese lady boss and her younger hippy-chic assistant, the odd duo (one tiny Ah Pek and the other his exact opposite) working in the kitchen who'd sneak a peek at the diners when they were less busy, the sight of Japanese families quietly reading their mangas or magazines after a meal, the rice cookers and slow cookers sitting along the wall behind the service counter, and the unpredictable genres of music playing on the blue portable player near the cashier. 

Yes, it was so regular that we had even gone there both lunch and dinner on the same day. And I regret having only ever taken two photos there.  

It was through Bon Goût that I realized how a good home-cooked meal can be as simple as it is satisfying. It was the hippy-chic lady who said to use California-grown sushi rice (Kokuho, which eventually became our staple in Cambridge). It was the portable player that convinced me Céline Dion sounds only as great as the audio system through which her voice is amplified. 

I suppose the coffee table we have for our living room will always remind me of the tables and counter by which we used to sit at Bon Goût, as they are all of the same shade of wood. And the simplicity of a home-cooked Japanese meal inspired by their menu: udon with cod, naruto maki, and fresh greens in miso soup.  

We'll remember your pan-fried beef steak rice set with creamy carrot-potato salad; your curry rice where half the plate is covered with curry containing potato, carrot and onion, while the other half just white rice with neatly sliced tonkatsu resting on top, served with the most delightful salad of pickled cabbage and onion I've ever tasted; your fried chicken with negi sauce rice set; your stir-fried miso chicken with eggplant. 

And not forgetting your shoyu ramen, which had become our own little joke, as JL would say "I'll shoyu ramen" when he really means "I'll show you". So thanks for the good-tasting memories and inspiration, and I secretly hope that one day, my collection of pretty little stoneware dishes will be as widely assorted as yours. One day.