Will Madam Be Having Lard With That?

I really think I must have a food intolerance.

After ten days in Singapore and a couple of weeks in Malaysia, I’m mysteriously bloated.

My stomach’s the same size it was when I was four months pregnant. It bulges over the top of my pants in the manner of late-era Bukowski.

It’s all most peculiar.

And, of course, emotionally highly distressing.

What can I blame for this sorry state of affairs?

Bar reviewing is work, right?

What’s a few champagne cocktails, Negronis, cask strength whiskeys, passion fruit Margaritas, whiskey cocktails, sake sets and eighteen varieties of Bloody Mary going to do to one’s weight?

I DEFINITELY don’t blame the beers.

And the Singapore Slings? Those were *research*, goddamit.

And, sure, Singapore has one of the most thriving fast food cultures outside of the US — it’s debatably even worse than the Philippines.

But I didn’t try the dispenser mashed potato. Strangely enough…

But what human being possessed of even basic curiosity could fail to sample the Waffle Hot Dog? If not, perhaps, finish it.

Or the Takoyaki? Deep-fried Japanese savoury dumplings. Five for $3. With a topping of — and I am not making this up — crispy slivers of lard.

I held firm against the Shiok Burger’s siren call.

Though perhaps I overdid the dim sum. Crystal dumplings, prawn, spinach, crab, scallop, century egg, salted egg and pork — ooh, the pork! — some of them literally bursting with rich pork juices.

Too late for dim sum? How about some pork belly, more century egg, crispy tofu, crispy peanuts, and steamboat soup with EVERYTHING.

Sure, I had a little Toblerone. And the occasional Gelatissimo gelato.

But it can’t be that.

Nor the curries.

Sizzling, oily fish head curry, rich with tomatoes and okra. Lamb vindaloo, butter chicken, spicy mutton, mushroom masala, pumpkin and coconut curry, lentil dahl, mustard-spiced green beans, potatoes and peas…

Pile upon pile of Indian breads — butter roti dipped in curry sauce and dhal. Paratha. Naan. Poppadoms. Breads studded with sesame, garlic, grains…

Ooh, and rice. Biryani rice. Rice saturated to gloopy richness in pure ghee. Heaped piles of it on banana leaves, lubricated with thali from tin cups.

Or the Indian sweets. Marzipan candy apples, with cloves for a stem. Great cones of roti tissu decked in syrup.

Could it be the nasi kandar, the spicy Penang cooking that sits halfway between Indian and Javanese?

Surely not. I had VEGETABLES with that.

Or the food courts of KL? That carrot cake, perhaps? The noodle soups. The curry laksa.

I mean, who in their right mind *wouldn’t* try a dish called Chee Cheong Fun?

Nah.

It must be my metabolism.

Or perhaps an intolerance of some kind.

Because, unlike these very funny folk, I haven’t been to the US.

Have *you* ever mysteriously gained weight while overseas? What countries trigger *your* food intolerances? Drop me a comment and let me know…