Journal EntriespreviousnextNote: Background images in December 2002 and January 2003 journal entries are selected from Frances Ku's collection of her original watercolours. |
Bon Journal
Lead us not into temptation
Just as I was about to help myself to a small slice of cream cake, one of the restaurant chefs brought out a large tray of freshly made tiramisu.
With my mother's words still echoing in my ears, I waited for him to put the tray down. I just couldn't resist cutting a small piece to add to my fruit salad. I was already feeling bloated after having had the cream of potato soup, bread, rocket salad, couscous and roasted tomato salad, stir-fried mange tout and string beans, rice, and curry.
Earlier my mother had called me and asked about my health. My back and shoulders ache after playing the piano for too long. Performing in public is very different from practising in the privacy of my own home. The free dinner I get each time is too good to resist. Every evening there's a new cream soup. Since I'm trying to improve my cooking, especially that of creamy soups, I help myself to a bowl with my favourite pumpkin seed bread. The cold starters are always good. The hot dishes include plenty of stirfried vegetables. The curry is sumptuously enticing. I never have enough time for the cheese or dessert. So sometimes I come back for dessert, of which there are five kinds, all made by the hotel restaurant chefs.
"You must resist eating so much," my mom said. "Just because it's free doesn't mean that you should eat it. Just because there's variety doesn't mean you should try them all."
I confessed that I had also taken alcohol over the holiday period, in the form of champagne toasts for New Year's Eve and hot mulled wine that I had made for my home concert. She said, "I told you not to drink alcohol. You could have toasted with juice. Your friends would respect you for that."
I also confessed that I had been eating meat, in the form of chicken a la ku which I had made for the home concert. I had also been indulging in the finest duck liver pate that my French friend's parents had brought from Marseilles. Yes, I had also cooked and eaten shredded pork with lemongrass and basil.
"Have you had chili or other hot food?"
Yes, I replied meekly on the phone.
"Well, at least you don't drink coffee."
No that's not entirely true. I didn't tell her that I had developed a craving for decaffeinated Irish coffee.
So my high fiber, nonalcoholic diet that I had started when my mom visited me last summer fell apart in the last two weeks. With Christmas tales to tell, several reviews to write, I am hardly in a state to feel guilty.
"Have you stopped working out?" she asked at last.
No, thank goodness no. If I stop, then all the muscles I trained since I joined my local health club six months ago would turn into fat. But training also gives me the appetite and guiltless quest for the kind of gourmet all-you-can-eat buffet dinners at the hotel.
