BLU @ Shangri-La Hotel: 3rd Year Anniversary - The Experience

14th September 2010

"Any champagne to start the night, sir?" The waitress asked promptly, after we were firmly rested in our comfortable red seats.

"Two glasses, please," I replied, without batting an eyelid; and more detrimentally, without the slightest clue about the price.

Indeed, the mood of the night was set with that exemplary opening gesture - a night or pure indulgence and bliss, on a sensory and, more significantly, emotional level - as I reached out for her hand.

It all felt so natural by now - and it should afterall; considering that it has been exactly three years since I placed her hand firmly in mine, remembering the caption and the phrase of "holding happiness", from our initial and discreet hand-holding moment immortalized on film.

"Are you ready to order, sir?" The waitress asked politely, as I rested the base of the long champagne glass on the white table cloth, the bitter aftertaste that tore through the sweetness still lingering in my mouth - a delightful sensation. 

"We'll have 'The Experience Menu", I told the waitress. 

"The Experience Menu" - a more than apt word to sum up the dining encounter we had at the Shangri-La as we marked our landmark celebration. 

I've always believed dining to be an art in itself, and more importantly and more essentially, an 'experience' (for the lack of a more suitable word). "The Experience Menu" at the Shangri-La not only reinforces, but utterly validates my point.

Led by Chef Kevin Cherkas, with footprints imprinted on some of the globe's Michelin's Restaurant, his creativity and culinary abilities shone through as we were introduced to the concept of "progressive dining"; which was not only a feast for the stomach, but also one for the eyes and the mind, as we left the restaurant in full appreciation of not only his skills, but also his creative talent and hospitality.

"Foie gras is a must, lobster, beef and if possible, oysters." I recited to the waitress, as she noted my preferences down.

"The Experience Menu" at BLU is a special menu where patrons are asked for specific food preferences, allergies and the like; which is then reported to the chef, who will set customise a menu for the patron based on the patron's preferences, and maybe, a little bit based on the chef's mood on that day. Akin to a degustation menu, except that it is a two-way deal between chef and patron rather than a one-sided affair.

For us, even though the menu was recited to us, the names themselves were inventive and at the same time abstract, sometimes being a little bit difficult to visualize, leaving plenty of room for the chef to surprise us, and indeed, he did with one dish after another.

Looking out of the tall glass window over a quiet stretch that would eventually meander to the much busier Orchard Road, she spoke of how it reminded her of Otaru, or in general, Japan... again. Some things in life probably leave a deep imprint on one's soul, and travelling on a magical getaway is probably one that still thugs at her heartstrings ever so often. Nostalgia is sweet in itself, but perhaps more so for me than her, the memory of sharing special travelling moments with a loved one is more than the icing on the cake, it is the very essence of the Experience; one that can only be fostered over a period of a compromise between a passionate love and a comfortable trust built over a course of time.

Mushroom Bubble

A spoon with an odd-looking bubble-shaped object was placed in front of us, as we were instructed on how to consume it. Placing it on my tongue, I applied pressure from the top of my mouth onto the bubble, causing it to burst and releasing a potpourri of flavours, dominated by those of mushroom and an after-tinge of cranberry sauce.

Analogous to drinking of the potion in Alice in Wonderland, this little bubble only served as our entry point to the more fascinating things to come further down the rabbit hole.

Lobster "Thermidor"

Washing up onto the shores of our journey-towards-gourment-excellence next was the Lobster "Thermidor." A rich dish that served the most succulent bits of the Lobster coupled with a rich lobster-based broth that had roe floating on the surface, pieces that I almost missed completely in my blindness and negligence. The combination of the succulent meat with the mixture of the rich and thick lobster broth brought back memories and inevitable comparisons of the lobsters I had in Boston. 

Memories of a time of difficulty and a time of need, as I remember the lazy Sunday afternoons that I would be sitting in front of the laptop in my dorm room, literally reaching out to touch the face I saw on the monitor in hope of getting just that little bit closer to her, despite knowing an inch wouldn't make a difference to the miles apart, but still did so regardless. 

Stealing more than a Glance

That familiar smell, that beckoning texture; stood right before our eyes, as I uncontrollably used the knife to spread over the top of the slab, just to attest its texture and its firmness. Expectations rose by the millisecond as I dug my knife gently into it, watching it crumble softly, as I raised it to my mouth and pressed my lips tightly closed after putting it in my mouth.

Typical of those of the higher grades, the piece melted slowly in my mouth, emitting an assortment of flavours within my mouth; a tinge of saltiness, the familiar taste and an additional spruce of nuttiness thrown in for good measure, Foiegras@fruits.com (yes, the official name of the dish) quickly rocketed to the top of both our Foie Gras favourites list, sitting very closely to that of Le Saint Julien's, and playing hosts to a whole deluge of memories.

Foiegras@fruits.com (no, you can't click that)

Memories of the different times we shared Foie Gras. Perhaps a mark of luxury and celebration on our part, most major celebrations in our history is somehow always graced with a platter of Foie Gras at the table; and through these different occasions, I think it is safe to say that we have jointly established it as our favourite couple-dish. Mainly because of the taste, but partially for the memories, the numerous candlelights and romantic-slow-burn dinners we've had over the major occasions in the last 3 years closely associated to the taste of the dish.... the smiles, the tears; the birthdays and the kisses.

The Egg Came First, or so states Chef Kevin's witty answer to the age-old question. My retort: it doesn't matter which came first when the egg tastes THIS good. Cutting down the middle to allow for the yolk to soak in and through the thick onion broth, the combination of the inherent sweetness and saltiness from the egg combined with the sting of the onion in its broth was only made more heavenly with the sprinkle of bread crumbs that littered the top of the dish.

The Egg Came First

A refreshing refresher of grape yogurt and soda-infused grape later, our main courses were served. A fresh snapper with vanilla-scented paella for the Lady, simply entitled "Catch", and the manly Wagyu Beef Mustard for the Gentleman.

"Catch"

Well-coloured and even more well garnished, with the brown sauce taking the shape of a perfect diamond, the Wagyu Beef Mustard melted slowly in my mouth, rivalling the texture of the Kobe Beef that I had savoured in Japan a good while back, before the sting of the mustard kicked in to give the meat a sensational after-taste. Passing her a piece, I saw a similar reaction in her eyes as she savoured the meat through the consumption process.

Wagyu Beef Mustard - A Perfect Diamond

My personal belief is that a good relationship changes a person, ideally for the better; as we work towards the notion of becoming more "complete" through our partners. It wasn't too long ago at Morton's that I instigated and tempted her to break her abstinence from beef, never to look back. And while this is highly debateable on whether it is a change for the better or not (in my books, more than definitely), over the months and the years, I can safely say that we've both changed one another.

No more is she the wide-eyed gal with an infinite sense of wonderment, but blossoming into a butterfly of confidence and an opinion to back it up; and no more am I the impatient, self-centred jerk that I used to be, but blossoming into an impatient, and slightly less self-centred jerk now upgraded with enough room for two in my mind, trying my best to consider her thoughts and her feelings along the way alot more (ok, maybe I didn't change THAT much).

"It was still swimming yesterday, so that's super, super, super, SUPER fresh," he said, pointing to the fish. "Not that it makes it any more appetizing, but it makes it a lot healthier."    

A rarity to see the chef outside the kitchen, but yet Chef Kevin made it a point to make personal trips out of the kitchen over the course of the night to play host and explain his creations to the patrons in the small, cosy 40-to-50-seater lined with a traditional, but nonetheless, elegant decor of velvety reds and soft-wooden browns.

The candlelight continued flickering as her unsteady hand tried to capture a shot of our dessert. The Egg proved to be a highly innovative dessert, shaped convincingly like an egg, but tasting nothing like one - but instead, with a mango centre, and coconut white and finished with passion fruit sorbet at the bottom, the combination of flavours was fruity and refreshing, and served as an excellent finish (almost) to our "experience".

Candlelight is perhaps another one of the totems of our relationships, simply because the abundance of candles in the places we've graced, and when you have a predominant-couple-activity of (fine) dining, it is not hard to find the association.

More symbolically, and perhaps more exaggeratingly though, is that this love has indeed proven to be my Light-in-the-dark cliche. But as much as I hate to conform to such, the truth is that, no matter how frivolous and non-committal we wanted to establish it to be at the start, at many a time of darkness and gloom cast upon my career over the last three years, the romantic candle has often remained my source of strength, simply by the virtue of it's presence beside me, and perhaps to much (of her) chagrin, the listening ear to my neverending moping and the little haven for my perpetual brooding.

Customarily, I wrapped up the bill and passed it to her after paying for the dinner, as she picked up the hand-written menu based on our "Experience".

And as we walked out of the doors of the restaurant with happy bellies, I knew deep in my heart, that there was more to the night than that. More so than a Celebration of a Milestone, a Celebration of a Record, a Celebration of History, a Celebration of the Future, a Celebration of Memories, or a Celebration of Love - it was a Celebration of an Experience.

ex·pe·ri·ence (k-spîr-ns)

n.

c.  the totality of a person's perceptions, feelings, and memories



Crowne Plaza: Bubbles in Time

11th July 2009

I stood there, looking out the window, squinting through the reflected images at the lights that lined the runway. Little taps were heard on my glass window - taps that accompanied each and every little droplet that fell, playing a soothing tune of harmony to the jazzy sounds of Michael Buble.

I watched a little droplet slowly trickle down the window, as my mind wandered...

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Water trickled down my brow as I rose, my body still shivering from the initial plunge.

The pool was unusually cold, just as she had forewarned, perhaps due to it's marble floor, unique layout or simply just due to the fact that it was on the 3rd floor and located around an airport where we were left virtually naked to the powers of the wind; one way or another, that didn't stop the eyes from widening as the arms tightened themselves to the body in an attempt to trap heat.

Architecturally designed to be contained within the distinctive "Cat's Eye" of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, the eye provided a poolside view that included the distinctive Control Tower as part of it's backdrop, providing swimmers and poolside-loungers alike with an instantly identifiable landscape.

Inside the Cat's Eye

A graceful backstroke allowed one to peer through another rooftop "Cat's Eye", but this time with the gently floating clouds providing the hypnotic backdrop that fed the eyes with each graceful stroke of the arms.

Due to the different medium, movement slows in water; and perhaps as a figurative parallel, I had found a moment that time slowed down for me, a moment of respite amidst a chokingly-busy schedule, allowing me to take both my mind and body off the drowning workload, giving me the first full 2-day weekend that I've had in the last 4 months.

Uniquely designed with tropical trees and plants littering the landscape of the pool, little and disparate cosy jacuzzi corners were well-camouflaged under the trees and behind the plants. To a passer-by perhaps only the sound of crackling laughter could be heard coming from behind the bushes, as we shifted along the stone slabs, in an attempt to find the strongest jet to massage our (my more than hers) aching backs.

Adjusting myself to an ideal position to get a automated massage, I saw the bubbles rise from the 2 jets adjacent to mine, little bubbles rising to the water's surface and dissipating as the came into contact with the air. And while I knew that my little Bubble in Time would soon burst in the coming of reality, all the more I was determined to enjoy every little moment of rest that I could muster out of this little bubble endowed upon me by my lovely host.

Illusion of Time

Crowne Plaza: Runaway by the Runway

11th July 2009

Light and Shadow

"Just let me take this photo," I said, sensing her looming behind me and with a slight sense of beckon.

It was obvious she was planning something, as she had urged me to take a seat amidst the vibrant colours of the hotel lobby a little earlier, while she went to check us in and perhaps attend to the said surprise. Surely I had my guesses, but the better part of me emptied my mind to the environment around me, to subject myself to a potentially greater sense of surprise for whatever was in store.

Surrounded by vibrant colours of the furnishing with a strong emphasis on contemporary shapes and curves, the furnishing of the Hotel Lobby well-complemented the modern architecture of the building.

Technicolour World

While the theme on the lobby played heavily on colours, the corridors that had led us there earlier played on another aspect, that of lighting, and how it strived to create a sense of rhythm. Streaks of sunlight streamed into the winding corridors on alternating bands, as the Lady and I had earlier traversed, moving through the light and shadow at a steady pace, with an almost parallel swirl of emotions, alternating between the darkness of the unknown that we were walking into and the warmth of the excitement that filled our hearts.

Shadow / Light

All these emotions were about to culminate into a climax that awaited us 9 storeys up. I braced myself and rose from my seat, lifting my bag, and taking her hand and with a warm smile, taking slow and heavy strides across the lobby and through the lift doors.

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Runaway by the Runway

A beep, a click and the swinging of the door marked the prelude to our little weekend hideaway. Anticipation ran through my soul as I put my first foot forward, walking through the narrow doorway until I came into full view of the room, and much beyond that.

"Wow!", I squealed, ruining my composure there and then, as I let out my first sign of visible excitement since we embarked on our little "runaway."

Warmly lit and equipped with a sofa area, a large double bed, a flat screen wall-hung TV, and even an iPod dock; these extravagant features seemed secondary compared to the 2 bigger fishes. A luxurious bathroom with a unique glass wall that looked into and subsequently out of the room, decorated with flower petal decals, gave the room a more spacious and definitely more unique feel of openness and transparency, in additional to serving it's decorative purpose.

She's Everywhere

But definitely the biggest draw lay behind the white satin curtains. I approached it slowly; first grabbing a Dark Chocolate off the specially-prepared Birthday Treat laid out on the desk, and as the outer shell started to melt in my mouth, the sweet warm chocolate fudge at its centre rushed out and unto my tongue.

"Oh, you actually noticed the chocolates? It was specially prepared for you, you know?" she said, with a hint of pride in her voice.

"Yeah, I know," I said naturally, always self-believing that I knew more than I did.

Approaching the curtains, I drew it slightly to take a garner at the view that lay before my shade-covered eyes.

Peek-a-Boo

A giant Singapore Airlines carrier was full-frontal, staring right at me and slowly making her way towards me, definitely in hopes of getting a bit more upclose and personal with the Birthday Boy, as she inched slowly towards my position and then took a turn to the right. In the background, on the runway, another one of her sisters was preparing to take flight, while on the parallel runway a Qatar Airline's carrier raced her to the skies.

Racing Queens

I pressed my ears to the glass, straining to listen to the sounds I remembered from the numerous occasions to the Viewing Gallery in my youth, as a Turkish Airline's carrier was greeted by the warm tarmac of our sunny island. Indeed, it felt like we had our own little personal viewing gallery, just for the Lady and I.

I drew the curtains wide, to share the view with the Lady who made it possible and we stood there in silence, just watching the activities on the runway for a little while.

For Your Eyes Only

"Thank you, Darling," I turned to her and said, breaking the silence.

She looked back at me with her large, round eyes and smile, one that showed a thorough sense of joy, and yet conveyed a sense of suppression - perhaps towards the things that were yet to come...

Al Dente Revisted : Bridge of the Worlds

Contrary to the familiarity of the decor, the changes in Al Dente's menu actually ran deep in relation to our last visit. As much as we reminisced about the dishes of our first encounter, we wasted almost no time making acquaintances with the new menu, and readily picked our gastronomical highlights for the night.

Familiarity

Failing to find the pizza of the past, we went for the Al Dente instead; partially based on the written description, and partially based on the deduction that it had to be the best considering that it was the restaurant's namesake.

True enough, the pizza proved equal to, if not better than, our previous choice. The thin wood-fried crust reminded me of how a difference in the simple layer of pastry at the bottom can make or break a pizza, while the combination of fresh vegetables and salty sausages contributed to the pizza being a blend of fresh and savoury tastes at the same time. The only gripe I had with it was the huge chunks of avocado which littered every piece.

Al Dente - with the name spelt right

It's glorious partner in crime was the Ravioli. Soaked in White Wine sauce and stuffed with Cheese and Spinach, I went with this due to my childhood fondness of the dish in general. Thinking that the lady would probably enjoy it less than I would due to its heavy reliance on "essence taste" proved to be erroneous, as she gave it her (straight) thumbs up before I even had a chance to sample it.

Ravioli - My Childhood Best Friend

Cutting a small piece carefully - as there were only 5 pieces and I wanted to maximize my satisfaction and gratification - I placed the dumpling-like pasta into my mouth, only to feel its subtle cheese taste teasing my taste buds, before the intensity of the White Wine sauce soaked through. The outer-layer of the pasta was perfectly folded, being not too thick (a common sign in lesser Ravioli's), yet not thin enough to tear easily. It's a pity that there were only 5 pieces, as I was still craving for more long (and I mean long) after the meal was over.

Our dinner was made less lonely than the sparse Thursday night crowd with our memories filling up the spaces in between. "Oh, I know which table we sat at", "Do you remember which side you were sitting on?", "What about the table next to us?", littered much of the conversation over dinner.

Memories are always a tricky thing, being constructionist in nature allows us to pander them to the emotions that we want to invoke while recollecting them. Personally, I feel that memories are the walls that define the world that we form in our minds. Some times, these are walls enclose a prison; other times, they fortify a fortress. Yet, there are times when these memories play the role of a bridge, where two people's mental worlds intersect, share and communicate.

Despite the transience and vulnerability of said memories, there is still a form of unexplainable joy when you validate them and their meaning with someone else's, where more than one can share the emotions that are tagged on with them memories.

To be able to share memories with someone is always a beautiful thing; but to be able to build and shape and sculpt memories with someone is oftentimes an art form in itself.

Re-creation

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