The Mooncake Commandment

Come up to me into the mount, and be there: and I will give thee tablets of stone, and a law, and commandments which I have written; that thou mayest teach them!

However that doesn't seem to be all Madame Borgia found as she made the triumphant ascension up the hills of Lambir deep in the recesses of their family estate. Since her son's slow recovery due in part to the sanctity of her blessed low-fat, low-sugar, heart-healthy meals, she has reaffirmed her unshakeable faith in ascetic health foods.

Apparently prior to making the climb, she had stumbled upon a burning hearth whereupon she received several deliciously sinful mooncakes full of devilish lard and wicked cholesterol. With the autumn season upon us - and her son in dire perpetual need of nourishment, Madame Borgia half considered leaving it on the family table as the lure of temptation.

But lo and behold as she approached the table, she heard the admonishing call adjuring her to make a hike up to the nearby hills instead. Where the Commandments of Healthy Eating were wondrously thrust upon her from the high heavens.

Calvin : Surely we can have one mooncake!
Benedicta : No! Mother said no!
Calvin : Not a single one?
Benedicta : We cannot challenge the Commandments!
Calvin : But she placed the mooncake on the table!
Benedicta : As a test! Don't fall for her tricks!
Paul : Gosh just come get some at my place.

Ever the avid prophetess, Madame Borgia certainly couldn't keep such beneficial instruction only to herself and hastily hurried down to share the Good News. It wasn't exactly easy to spread the news. Since I'll admit Charming Calvin the disbeliever wasn't exactly enthused with what he heard.

Madame : I found some mooncake along my travels.
Calvin : Alright. You called just to tell me this?
Madame : But you can't have it.
Calvin : What?
Madame : Yes, it's far too sweet.
Calvin : What?
Madame : The Commandments said so. Sorry. 

Seriously how would you contend with that pronouncement? Can't fight the Commandments after all.

Ladies & Gentlemen

The autumn party has come and gone.

Though admittedly most of the ton decided to frolic in the city for the weekend, quite a few had chosen to remain in the country. Certainly enough ladies and gentlemen for a convivial evening of fun and games.

Highlight of the day was of course the rollicking farce that was Ladies & Gentlemen - a seemingly genteel Victorian game of manners which turned out to be quite the opposite as the Ladies turned into nagging shrews while the Gentlemen transformed into boorish tyrants. Game players are assigned to partners as couples - with the husbands heading off to work in the City while the wives spend their pin-money on frocks and feathers.

Obviously all ready to head to the glamourous ball of the social season. The most well bedecked lady is pronounced the belle of the ball and the rest of her rivals would scurry home to their manors to plot delicious revenge.

Perhaps some pin-money for a bit of fluff, m'dear?

Since we already had couples in the room, we decided to switch it up a bit and split everyone up into random pairings which led to quite a lot of hilarious commotion. Charming Calvin found himself matched with Fabulous Felix in an odd pairing of flighty wife / long-suffering husband.

Without a doubt though, there were the usual hysterical termagant wife / suffering henpecked husband pairing as well.

Wife : Are you even working? How can you afford to buy me the dress I want? 
Husband : I'm trying my best! It's hard. 
Wife : Don't whine. Just get to work and make me some money!

Not all the couples were so stereotypical though. Ever the Renaissance man, Sober Sam who espoused a terrifically independent woman found himself wishing he'd gone for someone far more submissive instead.

Sam : Get yourself a dress, woman. 
Wife : It's not worth it. I'll get myself a dress later.  
Sam : Just buy that dress already! I can afford it. 
Wife : Don't waste your money. There are better deals later. 
Sam : I'll get you the dress! You just wear it, dammit!

I was the wife of course. Rather than being typecast as the typical tai-tai, Kitty Kat took the role of my husband. Turns out we made quite the perfect pairing since Kat made quite the killing at the stock markets while I soused out the best bargains at the boutiques - while besmirching the reputations of the other ladies with pointed insults.

Which gains gossip points by the way.

Though I did sometimes slander them just for the fun of it.

The Nag

Parents are known to nag. That's almost a given.

Back then, it seemed as if everything we did - or more precisely didn't do - would be followed by an entire period of agonizing nagging from either one of our critical parents. However with growing age and maturity, I'll admit there's a perverse sense of nostalgia attached to that former highly annoying parental propensity.

Though I seriously doubt the other tenants at Netherfield would agree.

With our annual Mid-Autumn soiree coming up, there are several essential tasks to sort out from the caterers to the decorations. Contrary to what others might think, we don't exactly source out the entire social event to the party planners here - since there are sadly few on this side of the Big Puddle. Besides, the decorators here have deplorable taste and I wouldn't even trust them to style the storeroom belowstairs.

So we usually do it all on our own. Very Martha Stewart Arts and Crafts 101 with simple everydau items at hand like the ubiquitous craft paper and scissors.

Not to mention a little bit of help which is unfortunately not all that forthcoming. Years of experience have taught me - quite painfully I might add - that the tenants don't place as much importance on the event details as I do. Whether the party decorations match or if the ordered dishes are enough to cater for all our guests doesn't seem to bother them quite as much.

Paul : Dammit I told Felix that the tablecloth should be in a shade of olive. OLIVE!
Paisley : Does it matter terribly?
Paul : Hush! You already botched up the invitations!

Yes, I'm a wildly controlling, micro-managing bitch. Something I've generally learned to live with which is why I only delegate the simplest of tasks to them.

Paul : I'll hire the caterer, set out the invitations and handle the decorations. 
Paisley : Alright. 
Paul : You are Felix are in charge of the chandelier. Just decorate the chandelier. 
Paisley : Okay. 
Felix : No problem. 
Paul : Get it done before the party. 

Well at least that's what they say. Exactly two days later after I've already interviewed the caterers, picked my favourite and gone through several menus, I look up and see the barren chandelier with nary a shiny bauble in sight. Perhaps a friendly reminder?

Paul : Don't forget the chandelier yeah. 
Felix : Don't worry.

This of course goes on for several days as I keep myself busy with the party preparations. Two days before the party when I've spent several days going through pinterest boards and youtube videos to find DIY decor for paper flowers and lanterns - and experimenting with several intriguing choices, I walk by again and notice that there's nothing all that different about the chandelier.

Paul : It's two days more, yeah. Don't forget to do up the chandelier. 
Paisley : So done. Don't worry. 

Really? Is it any wonder that parents start nagging? What choice do I have with the dates coming so close?

Autumn Is Coming

Admittedly it has been a while since we've had our regular soirees here in Netherfield. With the ongoing renovations over at the new demesne Hartfield to watch over and the building materials needed such as furniture and electrical items spilling over, Netherfield hasn't exactly been the proper place to host guests of any sort. Moving boxes fill up part of the house with the new - wallpaper, lamps and chandeliers - and the old - clothes and knick knacks - all mixing together in a disordered jumble.

Moreover it seems to be impossible to have an entire weekend where all three of us tenants are around. With the price of oil on a perpetual freefall, Fabulous Felix seems to be jetting around trying to solve all the ensuing problems - while at the same time balancing the demands of a new relationship.

What about the third, you say? Well, Pretty Paisley has been around even less than he has. Even when she is physically present on the estate, she seems to pull the oddest working hours in town, creeping home way past midnight with her sassy slingbacks in hand.

Yes, I do have my suspicions despite all her fervent denials.

Paisley : Did someone say a party? What shall I wear?
Felix : Ooh drinks.
Paul : Isn't anyone considering the caterers and the cleaners? 

So pulling together a party hasn't been topmost on my mind, till just the other day when Charming Calvin made a mention of it. Ever since he's back, there has been little chance for him to meet all my friends in one gathering which had him wondering. Obviously the bucolic country air - and the sheer monotony of it all - has suddenly turned him into a social butterfly.

Calvin : It has been a while since you've had a social. 
Paul : Haven't had the time. Nor the inclination. 
Calvin : Well I'm around this time at least. 
Paul : You sure you'll even lend a hand? 
Calvin : I'll try. 
Paul : I doubt that. 
Calvin : At least it won't be worse than the miserable potluck the other day.
Paul : Ouch. 
Calvin : At the very least, please cater. We aren't that common. 

That's the Borgias for you by the way.

Since my far-too-obliging caterers were all too deliriously happy to help - and surprisingly eager to give a sizeable discount, how could I possibly say no? Took only moments for us to work out a proper menu for the chosen clique that's coming by. Providentially the time coincides quite well with the coming autumn so all we had to do was come up with a fall foliage theme to match, all bright vibrant yellows, oranges and reds.

With the season upon us, quite a number of our acquaintances are back in the city leaving the countryside quite bare. By some fortuitous chance, both Fabulous Felix and Pretty Paisley find themselves in the vicinity for this short span of time - so what few friends left behind, we have brought together for our coming soiree to wine and dine together.

Cupcakes for the Moon

The Mid-Autumn Festival came just a tad earlier this year, or at least the party did. To coincide with my mother coming by for one of her irregular visits, the annual Mid-Autumn party in Netherfield had to be brought forward a week or so.

One day if I do finally retire, I just might offer myself as a volunteer party planner! Soirees at Netherfield have become such a routine that it took less than half a day to plan the menu with the new caterers and to order up the expected dishes for the guests. Twenty seemed like a good enough number, not too many that it would overwhelm yet not too few to seem almost deserted. Decorations were easy enough when I finally decided on a pink lantern theme. With my penchant for papercrafts, it took me a few days to assemble enough paper lanterns to bedeck the entire living room, with plenty left to spare for the other rooms.

Then came the hard part.

Paul : You're the patissier?
Patissier : Oh yes. 

With everyone I know fearing for their expanding waists - and subsequently eschewing the traditional cholesterol-laden mooncakes, I figured having smaller-sized cupcakes would be quite the sweet treat. Anyway having pretty pastel-coloured fondant decoration on the cupcakes would be an easier match for the theme of the party. Minutes was all it took for me to decide on the menu for the dinner table but trying to decide on what to place on the cupcakes certainly took some brainstorming.

Paul : Yes, I want cupcakes. 
Patissier : I should hope so! I don't do mooncakes!
Paul : Maybe a moon on top? 
Patissier : That's all? Quite sad, no? 
Paul : Maybe the moon goddess? 
Patissier : Anything else?
Paul : I guess the rabbit pounding the mortar and pestle?
Patissier : That takes care of two, what about the rest? 
Paul : A lantern maybe? 
Patissier : Three cupcakes. 
Paul : So I have to think of the other twenty as well?
Patissier : I only bake 'em. 

Having the cupcakes resemble the traditional mooncakes except smaller would be impractical since they already have them in a myriad of shapes and sizes.

So what designs to make out of fondant? With other festivals, we seem to have a rich plethora of vivid images to draw upon; from garland-bedecked trees and white-bearded philanthropists for Christmas to scarlet banners and booming firecrackers for Chinese New Year. But when it comes to the Mid-Autumn Festival, I could barely come up with anything - well except for the moon goddess, the rabbit and the lantern.

Thoughts that would plague me for the day... would a ceramic teapot made out of fondant look out of place on the cupcake?

Of course getting cupcakes for the party didn't stop me from getting double-egg yolk lotus paste mooncakes only for myself. After all I'm still very much a traditionalist.

Mid Autumn Fasting

Soon as the Hell Gates come to a deafening close in early September, it heralds the coming of the Eighth Lunar Month on the Chinese Calendar - and subsequently our preparations for the annual Mid-Autumn Gathering at Netherfield. Just planning a party might sound deceptively easy - but soon enough you'll find yourself knee deep in preparations with detailed dinner menus to prepare, various caterers to choose, multicoloured lanterns to pick from...

Dammit did I forget to order candles? 

And of course, delicious savoury mooncakes to indulge in. Generally eaten in celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival which falls on the fifteenth day of the eighth month. Legend has it that the mooncakes were embedded with secret letters, not to mention coded with messages on the patterns on the pastry surface, to start a rebellion in China under the rule of the Mongols. Though I assume few of the malcontents had the time to read since most would have gobbled up the sweet treats.

Something most apprehensive gay boys these days avoid with a vengeance, considering the thousands of frightful cholesterol-laden calories concentrated into one sinfully decadent golden-hued slice. So much so that most partake of only one meagre piece for the entire festive period, choosing to hand the rest out to their less watchful friends.

Like myself.

Which I find a pity since I adore the tempting treats. Certainly not the newfangled snow skin mooncakes with alarmingly outlandish flavours such as kaffir lime or musang king durian; just my classic baked lotus paste with double salted egg yolk will do well enough for a traditionalist like me.

Contemplated getting several gift boxes as I usually do this time of year - none for the finicky health-conscious in-laws of course - but I decided not to keep that many for the coming soiree. With almost all my anxious weight-watching friends, and that includes my nurses, seemingly on a fad diet for the past few weeks, it seems as if there might be some trouble finishing the lot.

Nurse : Ooh but we love mooncakes. 
Paul : Don't think I'll get that many this year. Who's going to finish them?
Nurse : Of course we will.
Paul : What about your diet?
Nurse : Forget the diet. It's a once a year thing.
Paul : You just swallowed one teensy baby carrot for lunch. 
Nurse : Which makes the mooncake so much more worth it.
Paul : If I get a whole lot, you'd bloody well make sure you finish them all. I'll stuff the lot in your mouth so help me God.

Though something tells me I'm going to end up dining on mooncakes for several nights after the party. 

Day of a Thousand Lanterns

Though not celebrated with quite as much fever, frolic and fanfare, the Mid-Autumn Festival still occupies a special place in my heart. None of the cacophonous cymbals, crackers and celebrations that usually accompany our typical Chinese festivals. Call her the restrained, subdued sister to the wild, flashy Spring Festival.

A softer, serene and entirely more sombre observation - one shared with close friends and family around a quiet evening meal under the light of a full moon on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month.

And possibly more than a dozen pastel-coloured paper lanterns.

Paul : Out for a walk, are we?
Panacea : Yes, with my lantern! Made it with my own two hands!

Of late however consumerism and commercialization has dragged this quiet lil mouse into the spotlight. More than a month before the actual date itself, the enterprising stores here already have their tables laden with hundreds of savoury mooncakes of increasingly... exotic tastes in beautifully appointed containers. Seaweed and floss anyone? Snow skin mango paste? Cherry Black Forest?

I'll stick to the more traditional lotus seed paste ones, thank you very much. Served with my prerequisite double egg yolks. Yes, the perpetually-dieting health-conscious gym bunnies can just scream over the thousand calories contained within.

Old-fashioned me! That's why I still prefer the cheap accordion-style lanterns to the newfangled monstrosities out in the market these days :) Not to mention the beautiful airborne paper lanterns known as sky lanterns 天灯.

Recently co-opted by Disney in Tangled.

We had our chance recently to reenact the glorious scene from Tangled just last night when the city brass decided to release a thousand lanterns into the sky to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival. Since it was the first time the bumbling city officials had a hand in organizing such a major event, I don't blame them much for the crowd control snafus.

Even when they had hundreds of overeager participants stampeding over a rickety wooden bridge to receive their sky lanterns; more than a few irresponsible cretins trampling children underfoot. Nothing like handing out freebies to bring out the worst in people. Fortunately the bridge held under our collective weight. Certainly wouldn't have gone down well if the first celebration ended with everyone submerged in a mucky pool.

Paul : Hope the bridge holds up.
Felix : Lake doesn't look too deep.
Paul : If the bridge collapses, I'll probably drown the blockhead who bulldozed his way through. 
Felix : I'll help.

Damn. The times you wish you had a gorgeous brigand like Flynn Rider to help.

But even the awful almost riot failed to diminish the absolute wonder of a thousand lanterns drifting up into the night sky with dozens of artful hopes and wishes. For a while, all the raucous noise of the masses dropped to an awed hush as we stared at an endless stream of twinkling lights snaking its way to the heavens.

Raise the Red Lantern

Rigid traditionalists around the world love to mope and moan over the gradual erosion of cultural traditions and ancient festivals under the relentless tsunami waves of globalization. Takes a lot to withstand the brainwashing powers of MTV and McDonald's after all - and obscure traditional practices are being slowly swept away by the more prevalent media-friendly Western culture.

Surprisingly there is one cultural festival over here that actually seems to be getting larger and more prominent with time. Not sure exactly what's been driving this peculiar phenomenon but I suspect it's a diabetic conspiracy hatched by the nefarious sugar manufacturers.

Years back, I could just recall a handful of red lanterns and several half-eaten mooncakes commemorating the occasion - but nowadays everyone seems to be getting on the loony mooncake bandwagon when the autumn equinox approaches. Lanterns and mooncakes flood the streets as prominent restaurants and confectionaries go all out during the ( no doubt lucrative ) Mooncake Festival, touting their various delicacies in the most creative manner.


Little lanterns everywhere!
Oddly enough while almost everyone celebrates the spirit of the season, no one's really all that sure of the actual date of the event. There's a vague sense of the festival approaching with the ubiquitous mooncakes making their presence felt but by then, everyone's already too busy rhyming verses by moonlit rivers to care about the actual date. No doubt the combination of the free-flowing wine and the sugar-rich mooncakes helps in the creative writing process.

Of course not all of us are aspiring poets who pen sentimental stanzas after the inevitable alcohol / sugar rush and there are some who invariably insist on putting their own unconventional spin on the festivities.

Paul : What are you gonna be doing this Mooncake festival?
ISO : Clubbing.
Paul : What? What does that have to do with the festival?
ISO : Everything. Trust me. I'll be busy sampling savoury mooncakes and tasting their sweet, delicious filling.
Paul : Seriously. How can you make everything sound filthy and degrading?
ISO : It's a talent we both share.
Unfortunately I can't argue with that.

Still, not everyone's busy gorging themselves on the local fare this auspicious season. Doing his sedate bit to garner business for his ample products, Big Bicep Barry's usually busy mooncake shopping this time of the year.

Paul : Busy distributing mooncakes again?
Barry : Yeah. Gotta placate the loyal clients.
Paul : Sweeten their lips? Do I get some sugar?
Barry : If you are a good boy.
Paul : So are you giving any sugar to Bad-Ass Brenda?
Barry : You've gotta be kidding. Brenda is not getting any mooncake of mine!
Paul : Glad you don't hand your mooncakes around indiscriminately then.
Barry : Are we still talking about the same thing?
Not sure what I'm gonna be doing on that day but the alcohol bit is starting to
sound good. Wonder what Charming Calvin is up to on that night.

Moon guilt

If you happen to live in the suburbs of Malacca - and just happened to look out your window this evening, you might have seen a dark-haired guy in shorts huffing and puffing his way through a jog.

Seriously, I blame the moon.

The jog hasn't exhausted the oxygen supply to my head leaving me slightly addled - though my hands are a bit jittery, I'll admit. The moon spawned the Mid Autumn Festival, something celebrated by Chinese all over the world over... and invariably, they share cups of heavy wine and the inevitable mooncakes under the light of a million lil lanterns. Desperately sweet, oily, cholesterol-laden mooncakes - guaranteed to have your friendly cardiologist screaming in fear.

And I can't resist them. That is why after eating one whole cake by myself, I felt a huge pang of guilt. Damn.

So I ran.