By Pauline Wong
He was not dressed in black, actually. It was a grey vintage-feel T-shirt purchased from the depths of a store called Ed Hardy (now in residence in our fair country at KLCC) , and a nondescript pair of pants. His name isn't 'Something -something Black' either. Its Emmanuel. Stroobant. He's Belgian.
His moniker is virtue of his black St Pierre uniform, (I think, I am just making a wild guess), which he wears on his TV show 'Chef in Black I' and 'Chef in Black II'. He's head chef there -a position he enjoys because (in his words) 'he cooks, and I do all the talking'.
'He' being his creative assistant. A rather quietly sexy French guy (ahh the French, their men can make slicing tomatoes look sexy) who I'd love have cooking in my home. Antoine, his name. He gave me better poses during the live demonstration at 7AteNine, The Ascott.
Nonetheless, he was chatty, friendly, a great sport (with multitudes of press descending upon him, it is amazing and a testament to his tolerance that he didn't throw his hands up and curse, with alacrity, the Malaysian press in very colourful Belgian), and an all round charismatic and funny guy. Short blond hair and all.
Nothing appeals to me so much as a man who cooks and makes jokes while he does so, so I had enjoyed my (very brief) interview (with 5 other journos) with him. I don't fancy much places that 'posh' -food too small and prices too big.
When the World Works, You Work
By Pauline Wong also
Work has been all consuming, she thought to herself, sitting at the corner of her bed, reaching over to pluck that pesky wire off the floor. She plugs it in viciously into her handphone, and proceeds to flop onto her bed.
She missed her friends. Still do. Misses, then. She misses her friends. She missed their infinite freedom to just 'hang' whenever they wanted to, wherever they wanted to. Most of all, she wanted her 3am bedtimes... okay. Maybe she doesn't.
When the world works, so does she. She types away at her laptop (supplied by her office): she enjoys what she does but sometimes her freezing fingers hurt.
She likes her colleagues a great deal. She likes her job. She is happy.
...but there is something to be said for being able to kick back, relax, and wear ratty T-shirts everyday and talk utter perverse nonsense with equally perverse and nonsensical friends.
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