Zen Japanese Restaurant, Hawthorn

It has been a while since we last had Japanese food so Gaz decided he'll bring me to a restaurant on Burwood Road, Hawthorn that has received good reviews.

We had takoyaki balls as entree. They were piping hot and very delicious with the bonito flakes and mayo on top. Gaz also liked them very much. My only gripe is that there is not many octopus bits in the batter.

Gaz wanted to have some sashimi and ordered a main sized sashimi platter. 16 pieces of fish comprising of salmon, tuna and whitefish. Doesn't the whitefish look like chicken? The salmon was really delicious, full of flavour however I cannot say the same with the rest of the fish. Oddly the tuna did not have the familiar melt in your mouth texture but was rather grainy and bland.

This is my bento set comprising of sashimi and sushi, tempura, teriyaki chicken, inari and salad with sesame sauce. I believe the staff are Korean as I overhead snippets of conversation in Korean. The sesame sauce on the salad is a Korean touch to the bento box.

Gaz had another bento box with beef, teriyaki salmon, teriyaki chicken and salad. The teriyaki salmon was delicious. The chef must have received a good shipment of salmon.

The bento came with miso soup and dessert. We got green tea ice cream and sesame ice cream each. Gaz preferred black sesame ice cream to his white sesame ice cream but we took a picture of the ice cream anyway because the pattern on the bowl is so pretty!


The food at Zen is good overall, and reasonably priced for the portions we received. I did feel that the sushi rice were inconsistently prepared - some bits were larger, some were smaller and lacked the precision that I have come to associate with Japanese cuisine.

A Night at the Opera

The other day, Gaz called me at work and asked me if I would like to see Placido Domingo. Would I?! I spent my teenage years listening to cassette tapes of the Three Tenors. I listened to the tapes so much I could almost sing the songs myself, without the charisma, voice and without knowing what the words meant of course.

The concert was held on a Monday evening at Rod Laver Arena, so I rushed back from work, gobbled down a hasty dinner and drove to the city. We were seated in good time, and watched people filing in. Most of the audience was of an older age, although it was heartening to see three young girls on the row in front of us also set to enjoy the night.

'A Night to Remember' starred Placido Domingo and Welsh mezzo soprano Katherine Jenkins, accompanied by Orchestra Victoria and only played for two performances, once in Sydney and once in Melbourne.

He sang many of the familiar tunes and seemed to get better as he went along. At one point, his voice was so strong that many other men in the arena stood up and shouted Brava! The atmosphere was electric. I could see that Gaz also enjoyed the performance, because although he yawned, he did not nod off!

I Would Like..

As my birthday approaches, the annual question of what I would like is asked. This is a difficult question to answer, not because the number of things I would like exceed the number of friends and family I have. Indeed I am blessed by caring family and friends who take the time to ask, as well as a very short shortlist of what I really want right now.

For a couple of years now, and this year especially for no particular reason, I am reminded once again of a certain scene about this time seven years ago. My parents were taking me out for dinner at the local restaurant, which we went to every week, the one that made a really awesome tofu with crab meat and egg chiffon dish. There was no fanfare around the day, just me and my parents spending time together.

Parking was scarce and the only spot Dad could find was at the end of the street from the restaurant. So we parked and started walking. There was no foot path for pedestrians (this is Malaysia!), we walked along the verandahs belonging to the strip of shops. It was dark but for the street lamp that shone nearby and quiet as most of the shops were already closed.

The first shop was a shop selling some sort of machinery during the day, its verandah was uneven cement covered with engine oil. Another was a cafe, it's verandah floor was covered with mosaic. Next to it was a shop that sold bits and bobs for the house like nails, nuts, door handles, paint. It had a nice smooth concrete floor on the verandah, like polished marble. Each shop had different floors on its verandah and each verandah had slightly different heights. We stepped carefully so as not to stumble and fall. There is a little alley, a break between the strip of shops. 3 steps down a little stair to street level, cross the alley, then back up 3 steps onto the verandahs.

On the steps back up to the verandah, we saw a solitary dark figure sitting on the steps close to the wall. Mom immediately drew me away from him, closer to her. Dad led the way in front of us but walked further away to the left. Amidst the daily reports of snatch thieves and robbers, all of us were instinctively wary.

It was during a time where Malaysia imported many foreign workers from poorer countries to help with jobs that locals did not want to do. Working conditions and remuneration for these foreign workers were far from ideal, therefore many commit crime to supplement their income.

The man on the steps was a foreign worker. I could see it from the way he dressed, dirty white shirt, black pants and slip slops. His skin colour and face bone structure did not fit. Oily and dark with dishevelled hair. He was also making noises.

As we neared, I realised what they were. They were sobs, heaving sobs which rose to a soul wrenching cry. He cried as though all hope is lost and there is nothing more to live for. He cried as though a lifetime supply of tears was not enough for him to cry. Our presence did not affect him as there was no space in his world but him and grief. He truly exuded pure anguish and hopelessness. I had never seen a grown man cry like that. I think it even embarassed my parents a little, they being traditional Chinese people who were taught not to express emotions too readily.

We passed him by.

The second shop after the alley was a rubber thong shop. I know from experience that the shop owners who also live there will be sprawled in front of the television with the door ajar enjoying a Hong Kong drama serial, oblivious to passersby. They were true to their nightly routine that night.

We arrived at the restaurant, ordered my favourite tofu dish and had dinner. None of us spoke much, and certainly not about the man, but I could see all of us were still thinking of what we saw. After dinner, we took the same route back. The man was gone.

I have thought again and again of the man since then. Where had he gone after that? What had he experienced? What would have happened if we had just stopped by him that night?

This birthday, I am not in want but there are many in the world who do not have family and friends who are able to ask and provide hope. So, if the question must really be answered, then it will be answered this way - please donate to a charity of your choice and let us sow hope.