I was told that food is also a very “trending” topic. Naturally, I proceeded to do some research. Guess what, out of the top 5 bloggers in Singapore, 3 write exclusively about food! I know we love food, but this much..?! Anyway, statistics don’t lie so food it is today then. Sorry, fashion and parenting, you’ll have to wait.

Every weekend, and I mean every Saturday and Sunday, the moment I open my eyes, I look forward to having fishball noodles for breakfast. Not just any fishball noodles, but OUR fishball noodles, at OUR coffee shop, in OUR ‘hood.

I like kway teow, dry with chilli (and chilli padi) and extra fishballs. My husband the ang moh prefers the ketchup version. We wash everything – noodles, fishballs, meatballs, mushrooms, bak chor – down with tea. Me, teh o kosong beng. He, Pokka green tea beng. The whole meal costs us around $10, and what satisfaction we derive from it!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not pretending to be a heartland girl (or actually at my age, heartland auntie, but please, don’t..). Well, I am a heartland, ok, woman. I mean, I grew up in the heartland but ours is the Singapore story, at a personal level. From the age of nothing to 8, I lived in a kampung house in Lorong Napiri. I still remember the pattering on the zinc roof whenever it rained. All four of us, Dad, Mum, Bro and me, slept in one bedroom, and one that was right next to Ah Gong’s (my paternal grandfather) pig sty. The stench, oh the stench… Mum could never get through the day without dousing her nose with endless amounts of Axe medicated oil.. Then urbanization came knocking and along with many others at that time, we moved to a HDB flat, as I started Primary 1. Ah Gong held out for as long as he could, which baffled me. Why wouldn’t he want to move into these tall shiny concrete buildings? What a nice change that would be. No more pigs!

Dad, like Mum, didn’t finish primary school. His and Mum’s experiences would shape many of my own choices in life but that’s another story for another day. For much of Dad’s adulthood, he worked for his elder brother, my Rich Uncle. He didn’t make much and life was not easy. I remember Mum often being in a bad mood over finances – exacerbated in the earlier years by the omnipresent stench of those pigs, no doubt. She had had to pawn the jewelry Ah Ma gave her when things were tight, and then redeem them back when things got better. But Dad had aspirations. When I was in my early teens, he decided to make more of his life by striking out on his own. He never spoke about it, but it must have been a terrifying experience, to give up a meagre but nonetheless stable income for the uncertainty of being his own employer. I’m immensely proud of Dad, for having that courage to pursue his dream, for making the most of the hand that Life has dealt him.

With his hard work, our life improved and we moved to a condo just as I started working. And eventually, a landed property that Dad and I bought together, after I had accrued some savings a few years into my first job. The classic Singapore Dream, no?

Life is very different now. I live in our own house close to my parents. But whenever it rains as I lie in bed, I can still hear the pattering on the zinc roof. I’ve graduated to eating wagyu, truffles and foie gras. While I used to carry paper bags (!) to work, I carry Hermes handbags now. Not because I’ve married into wealth, but because I work as hard as my parents have inspired me to. No matter the changes, I’ll never forget where I came from. And I’ll never forgo my fishball noodles. Never.