In Continuum.

I have a thing against fruits, there aren't a lot that I am crazy about. There are only a limited amount of food that I'd dive my face into, but everything else are either strange or just plain repulsive. I have developed a strange phobia for strawberries and papayas, not really because of how they taste but how they tend to look. You know how it is with strawberries, those tiny little seeds they have on the surface that makes the back of your neck itch like crazy. It's kind of like those bubble wrappers you get when you receive something delicate by mail, you can't help but to pop those little plastic bubbles or twist them like a wet towel. It is that urge inside my head to scratch everything off that makes me incredibly uncomfortable, and the same can be said about papaya seeds. I'm sure you have sliced opened a papaya before and then looked at all the little black seeds inside and thinking about the eggs of some insects at the same time. I know I have, and it is probably because of a childhood incident when I was rummaging through my toy box and found the egg of a cockroach once, and it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience. The egg of a cockroach look more like a black peanut, but then the seeds of a papaya look more like a dozen miniature-sized eggs, and that is not comforting for me at all.

 

Papayas and strawberries taste good though, no questions about that. However, there are some fruits that I just cannot take even if you put a gun to my head. I remember it was someone's birthday during the first three months in SRJC, and someone else was nice enough to buy a fruit cake for this particular classmate of ours. We decided to celebrate the birthday in the canteen that afternoon, but nobody told me that the cake was going to be wrapped and blended with chunks of mangos. Unknowingly, I accepted the piece of cake from my friend and bit down hard into the chunk of cake on my fork when I noticed the distinct odor of the mango attacking my nostrils. It reminded me of the smell that overwhelmed the playground in primary school, the place where we used to play catch all the time. There was a row of mango trees that lined the edge of the playground, and the mangos would drop to the floor when it became ripe enough. More often than not, however, it'd be left to rot in the floor and to be covered in hordes of hungry ants and other creepy crawlers. I still remember that awful smell until this day, which is why I have stayed away from mangos for the longest time. 

I have come to a conclusion about staying in a foreign country for an extended period of time. I figured, that if I cannot get used to the kind of food that they serve in a country after staying here for a period of time, then this country does not suit me at all. I have been in Singapore for seventeen years, and I have yet to fit into the local food culture at all. Durian was the big thing when I came to Singapore back then, and everybody was recommending it to my family. I think we were brave enough to drive down to Hougang to buy them once, but the smell of the store had the family drive all the way home empty handed. Let's just say that the smell of the durian wasn't exactly the kind of smell that we'd consider to be awesome, and the experience my parents had in Thailand last time certainly did not help either. A week of diahorrea certainly did not give them a great impression of the king of fruits. The same goes with the over-hyped hawker center food in Singapore as well, I just don't seem to understand what the fuss is all about most of the time. It tastes the same everywhere, and they sell the same stuff all the time. So what's the big deal?

I love chicken, I have a love affair with chicken. If there is a kind of meat that I have to eat for the rest of my life other than beef, it is probably going to be chicken. However, the idea of eating chicken wings is problematic for me. You can't really eat it with chopsticks, and you cannot use the knife and the fork either. I mean, there are little corners that you cannot rich with your fork, and the wing never seems to be angled in the right way for you to effectively extract the meat from the bone. The best way to eat a chicken is to do it the way that the cavemen did, and that is to grab it with both your hands and then chew the meat off with your teeth. Therein lies the problem, however, and you realize that your fingers are covered in oil. That is not even the worst part about eating chicken wings; the worst part is when you have to pick up your utensils again to continue the rest of the meal. You realize that the oil that stained your fingers are now on the utensils, and you have to wipe the utensils clean before you continue with your meal. And what happens the next time you decide that you want to eat chicken wings again? The vicious cycle continues. 

My friend Jonathan Teo has a thing against crabs, lobsters and prawns. He is fussy about eating those, not because of how they taste but how the food looks. He liken these seafood to cockroaches, because their legs remind him of insects. It is worse if he has to witness those poor little prawns in the fish tanks before being sent into the kitchen, the way their legs would scramble at the speed of sound. He especially hates crabs, because of the way they are prepared. First you stab a knife into their stomach, and then you peel off the top of their shells while they are still alive. And then all the little eggs roll out of the top of their heads, and those are supposed to be the best part of the crab! I personally cannot take the sight of those either, although I am a big fan of crab pincers. I usually only eat the pincers, and maybe the occasional leg. Never the body though, and certainly not the eggs. It is great to have me at a seafood restaurant if you order any crabs, because you can have all the best parts while I have my pincers. 

I am fussy about my bread too, I have no idea why that is the case. I have never been a fan of spreads other than butter ever since I was a kid. There were no peanut butter spreads, no strawberry jams, no kaya, just butter. It was probably because I used to have long swims in the swimming pool downstairs (until I found out about people pissing in public pools did I stop going down for good), and the snack that I always had after a chlorine bath were slices of Gardenia bread - with nothing on them. That's right, I used to eat plain bread, slice after slice after slice. Or it'd be buttered and then placed in the oven until the butter melted away into a neat puddle of yellow greatest. I used to save the best for the last and then chow down the whole center bit in one gulp. It felt good when I was a child, but the same cannot be said about the other spreads. I like my peanuts the way they prepare it on planes, not when they are crushed into a goo and then spread over breads. I am not a fan of peanut butter, not because they are fattening but because I just don't like the taste all that much. Kaya looks strange, like something right out of someone's nose. 

I am a great fan of Subway, I love Subway. I love the concept of how it is the healthiest fast food around without all the frying and all the oil. It is fast, it is clean, no hassles whatsoever. However, when it comes to the vegetable section of ordering, I usually have some minor problems here and there. First of all, I am not a fan of pickles. Remember that little slice of pickle they'd put in your hamburgers at McDonald's, and that other one if you buy a Big Mac? I never liked them, which was why I used to take them out before I start on a burger every single time. Anyway, I don't like pickles, and I don't like cucumbers. If you are a vegetarian, then it will do yourself good if you follow me to a chicken rice store, because I usually eat anything but the cucumbers. I am not a fan of green pepper and tomatoes either, unless they are cooked properly. Still, I think I still fare better when it comes to vegetables as compared to some people I know. Speaking of chicken rice stores, I have no idea why people leave out the chicken skin - it's the best part of the chicken, hello?

So, as you can see, I am fussy as hell. That is just the tip of the iceberg though, aside from my fussiness when it comes to fruit juices (just orange please, or apple. Don't give me watermelon or carrot juice). I am probably not painting a very good picture for myself, but I guess everybody has their own little quirks, and mine just so happen to be in the area of food. I am picky about my food, I don't just eat anything. I know of people who swallow anything even if you feed them your snort, just as long as you blend the snort with their favorite food. I know of people who eat like dogs, they hardly care about what goes into their mouths most of the time. I personally prefer to know every aspect of it before I decide whether or not to try it out, but I guess that adventurous spirit can never be applied to fruits. I have a problem with fruits, I can never cross that barrier. It's really not difficult, you only need so many fruits and so many kinds of food to keep my stomach happy. It's difficult, but rather simple at the same time. I am simply, a complicated man.