Happiness is a full stomach

The Ting's counter (note ingredients)

'Kenny! I need your help!' the Ting says to me as she opens the door. I roll my eyes. When you're friends with the Ting, you come to expect these things to happen. 'It's a mess!' I roll my eyes again.

The Tong's stove

She leads me to her kitchen and I finally understand her exasperation. Before us, her ingredients strew the kitchen floor, dinning table and counters. Raw food still in their wrappings, pre-prepared food on plates and in tupperwares as well as plastic bags of condiments. 'We're so not taking your entire kitchen with us,' I say to her.

A ting tong evening

Eight plastic bags, five tupperwares, a plate of prawns and a potted basil later, we cram ourselves into the coach's car. The Tong's cheerful greeting gets lost in his apprehension when he finds out that the Ting's ingredients fill the entire boot and backseats. He's clearly unimpress by her coloured candles with rose petals and orange peel decoration.

The Tong's zucchini and porcini risotto with rocket salad

Joining the Ting's promise to cook for me and the Tong's promise to cook for the coachess was a good idea. With such company, it'll be a weekend of endless merriment and laughter. The coach's car is like a time machine and before long, I'm back in my long-gone childhood days spent running barefoot over soft green grass under a benevolent sun without a care in the world.

The Ting's flowery prawns

The coachess greets us warmly when we arrive and shows us her kitchen. It's bigger than the Ting's. Big enough to dance in as the Ting practises some Cha basics. The Tong follows her example and soon, we're all working the floor.

The Tong's dill salmon on asparagus with minted baby potatoes

Satisfied with their basics, the Ting and the Tong start cooking. Within an hour, the Tong is almost ready to serve his starter while the Ting is still preparing her ingredients. Realising she's behind time, she recruits me and the coach to help her. 'The only things I can cook are cup noodles.' She doubts my cooking abilities but gets me to cut bread into little perfect cubes.

The Ting's chicken lemon grass and salad

I try my best to fulfil her demands. Tediously.and.painstakingly.slow. Finished with butterflying the Ting's prawns, the coach relieves me of my suffering and starts to shred the bread into small indistinguishable shapes at a reckless speed. 'She won't notice. And even if she does, we won't be eating at 9.00 pm at the very least,' the coach whispers to me. The Ting glares at us.

The Tong's raspberry cheesecake

Two hours later, we gather in the tastefully furnished dining room and sit ourselves around the dining table where the Ting's candles cast a soft red and blue glow. Alternating between the best of both Western and Eastern cuisines, we subject our taste buds to a mind-shattering explosion of orgasmic tastes. With our tongues occupied, we tease our intellects with discussions on chilli and other trivial matters.

The Ting's yellow mung bean sweet soup (with whiskey)

Two hours and six courses later, the coachess compliments the chefs and retires early from the night. I pity the baby. All he or she will be getting are simple sugars and amino acids. Then again, being carried around all day in a warm squishy waterbed must surely make up for it.

The Ting 2-0 The Tong

The rest of us waddle into the living room and flump ourselves onto comfy couches. We nurse our palate with steaming cups of tea over small talk. Once our stomachs stopped protesting, the coach sets up his EyeToy which we play well into the early hours of the morning. The Ting gets a tad bit too excited in my opinion but amazes us by winning the Brad Pitt quiz.

The hurdles race

We didn't know it then but we would all awake late next morning with aching arms due to the Ostrich race. Still, live life for the moment I say. And right there and then, that was my life: Spent with the ones I cherish and love the most.