Coupled this with a few choice talks about the importance of systematic theology, several simultaneous conversations on Whatasapp about near-deaths and funding for missionaries and dinners in the week ahead, and attempted to eat pad thai & drink tom yam soup (instead of the paint at the end of the brush that, at times, was mistaken for the fork).

A decade ago, it would be unseemly to give real friends such amateur attempts at painting. But now, one imagines it might possibly be appreciated – because of the supposed authenticity of the gesture, just like home-baked treats and home-brewed beer by home-grown beards (paired with plaid shirts and corduroy trousers and high leather boots).

The cult of authenticity pervades the church as well, but it is usually the self-centered sort that makes excuses for our many sins – mostly, as sins are, of thinking too much of ourselves: “Oh ho! I can’t help hogging the conversation and talking about myself all the time,” booms the self-professed extrovert* proudly to all who will listen. “Erm, I can’t help running away from everyone else and being by my comfortable old self,” mumbles the self-confessed introvert* from his little corner, etc.

*regardless of the veracity of such distinctions

There’re the Spitalfields Markets (Old Spitalfields Market, Spitalfields Art Market etc):

Then, down past Poppies Fish & Chips, Rosa’s Thai Restaurant, and Absolute Vintage,

and hang a left to Corbet Place where you can turn Brick Lane Sunday Upmarket or just enjoy the al fresco dining at The Old Truman Brewery:

Brick Lane Sunday Upmarket featured a range of beautiful new products (like leather shoes from Shoe Embassy), cupcakes, vintage in the basement, posters:

and an international selection of food:

to be eaten at proper tables indoors, or on seated on the pavement with friends:

Sometimes, through the little rabbit hole adjoining the entrance to Sunday Upmarket, you can follows the signs to the bright airy space hosting the Renegade Craft Fair:

Back outside, Rough Trade East, Traffic People, a perfume shop, American Apparel, hipster throngs:

What I love about markets is their diversity of goods and the music, and the energy wrought from the coming together of creatives and people who appreciate them. Similarly, it is the smörgåsbord of ideas about truth and reality that has always rendered philosophy so attractive to me.

A good chat with The Tutor on our way out today helped confirm some of the conclusions I reached last week while re-thinking (Gottfried Wilhelm) Leibniz’s Theodicy and how right Voltaire was to scoff at him in Candide – the poor man really got his knickers in a twist attempting to explain what God hadn’t revealed. While the discussion this rainy evening was first about women and bible college, it quickly devolved into one concerning biblical theology vs systematic theology, synthesis vs Bible as false dichotomy, major and minor topics in the Bible, disagreement about biblical theology as process and systematic theology as product (synthesis as product? but really, relationship with God as aim), summation of the Law as “love God and love neighbour” not being systematic theology but mere summary.

The problem with systematic theology (as distinct from doctrine synthesised from biblical theology) is that it attempts to force the Bible to answer its questions, whereas it is God through his word in the Bible who should dictate the questions. So questions about ontology, for example, are moot. Ah, this explains why I’ve never been convinced by such arguments as might be found in Thomas Acquinas’ Summa Theologiæ.

Now: listening to Vladimir Horowitz work his way through some Chopin to de-buzz.

PS: Brick Lane Sunday Market + Backyard Market:

Want to celebrate something? Go out for a good meal. Want to comfort someone? Go out for a good meal. Want to mark a special occasion? Food. Want to start a fight? Claim you know where the best char kway teow/laksa/chilli crab/chicken rice is to be found.

So according to the diary, the next few weeks are set to pass in a blur of being brought out for makan or being cooked meals. It’s very nice of everyone to do this, though with upwards of 3 farewell meals on some days, I fear I will be made to pay for two seats when I finally roll up the plane, dragging my enlarged liver behind me.

One day last weekend, we ate our way through Katong, also introducing a Japanese girl to the delights of Nonya cuisine. It was difficult to tell if she enjoyed it since her eyes glazed over halfway through the trek, as yet more dishes were placed before her by her expectant hosts.

First up, Katong laksa (with an account of the feud between laksa stalls), then on to kueh and Nonya dumpling snacks at Kim Choo Kueh Chang (facebook. 109A/111 East Coast Road),

then went in to sit next door in its restaurant for a lunch of chap chye, sambal prawns, ayam buah keluak, and babi assam.

After, we strolled past the very tempting soon kueh at Yong’s Teochew Kueh (150 East Coast Road), en route to

the venerable Chin Mee Chin Confectionery (204 East Coast Road) in the shadow of the Holy Family Church. The auntie seemed to have given up her previous grumbling against shutterbugs (probably after the last decade of happy clickers) and cheerfully concentrated on forgetting our drink orders instead. From the open kitchen wafted the smell of fresh cream puffs and the aroma of bread buns toasted on charcoal fires. The cupcakes and cream puffs catered to old skool tastes – harder and drier than the Japanese stuff we get now but tasty in their own way.

Then, drove over to PeraMakan (facebook. Keppel Club, 10 Bukit Chermin Road), slightly late after dropping off the troops at the Peranakan Museum (where the poor Japanese girl was relieved not to find another restaurant waiting), for a second Peranakan meal. Love the stuff. Ayam buah keluak (rather different recipe cf Kim Choo), Penang Nyonya pork ribs, chap chye, apom balik, chendol (do not adjust your screens, the luminous green is real), and durian pengat (the mousse tastes far better than it looks).

I dislike farewells (and in fact, just woke from a nightmare (literal) about one) because the attention is immensely off-putting. But these ones were very helpful for all at the table because the spotlight was on God and how he brought each one of us to know him. These weren’t success stories about how healing sicknesses, or finding spouses, or getting that ideal job; they were how God worked in different circumstances to reveal his majesty to us. The competitive ambitious one was told that looks, money, and brains weren’t good enough if there was no God, and so was determined to find out what was lacking and was then attracted by the truth of it all; the blur one was dodgified by an early experience with a Christian cult group and eschewed all contact with Christian things but decided on a whim to go for a talk one day and was struck by a message from Scripture that God as creator of the world wanted to have a relationship with us humans; the somewhat flighty one was attracted first by an attractive teacher and wanted to find out more about the teacher’s faith; the annoyingly intense one just wanted to get to the bottom of things – the meaning of life and the reason for our existence, but it wasn’t persistence that paid off – rather this truth came along and tapped her on the shoulder when she was looking the other way.

And this is the promise:

that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)

It seems to me that hardly anything about Yet Con (“since 1940″. 25 Purvis Street) has changed over the decades. The signboard, the wording on the flanking pillars and that particular font on the aluminium-framed glass doors, the position of the man chopping succulent chickens on an old wooden block, to your left as you enter,

then the white-haired man who oversees the whole operation of the restaurant with an eagle-eye from behind his cashiers’ desk (complete with retro orange pay phone, ancient safe, and abacus at the ready), shouting instructions in Hainanese, and as new orders are made, writing hieroglyphics on pieces of paper neatly lined up and held in placed with binder clips. He does not seem to have aged a day since the 1980s, in his immaculately-pressed white short-sleeved shirts.

Adding to the atmosphere of nostalgia, discarded eggs shells on the linoleum floor, and the garlicky kick of the chilli sauce, and the depth of flavour of the soup that isn’t just all about the Aijinomoto.

The main draw for me – the pork chop: deep-fried then drenched in tomato-based sauce (possibly with the addition of some Lea & Perrins?). Best eaten with chicken rice.

Woah, this is the first time I’ve seen a menu.

The next day, Jiro Dreams of Sushi opened in Singapore. 83 minutes of the whole cinema collectively sucking in their breath (and drool) as sushi after sushi was precisely made and placed on a black enamel platter, the fish coming to rest on top of the rice with brushed sauce dripping from it in slow motion.

Jiro Ono, the subject of David Gelb’s film, started Sukiyabashi Jiro – a ten-seater, sushi-only (as in, “no appetisers; sushi only”) restaurant in the Ginza shopping district of Tokyo. It has been awarded three Michelin stars several times over. The secret of Jiro’s success was that there were no secrets. Sure, the seaweed had to be toasted over charcoal, and the rice was special and had to be subject to a certain amount of pressure and kept at a certain temperature, and the fish was obtained from the best dealers at Tsukiji market (the tuna for example was obtained from a tuna merchant who only sold tuna and was an expert in the fish), and the octopus was massaged for 40-50 minutes (up from 30 minutes) to make it soft, and the fish had to be aged and then sliced in a certain manner at a certain thickness etc.

It was merely repeating the same tasks over and over again every day (with breaks on national holidays) and trying to make sushi more delicious the next day that enabled him to reach such a high standard. The raving Japanese food critic featured in the movie said that he had never had a bad experience with Jiro. He could go expecting that every time, it would be consistently perfect.

Would Jiro’s two sons live up to his high standards? The director cunningly attempts to create this tension/suspense by interviewing various parties, who shake their heads gently or try to be politely optimistic. Then there was a little surprise at the end concerning the authorship of the sushi placed before the Michelin inspectors…

As Christians, our passion and obsession is pleasing God, and God’s standards are higher than that of any Michelin inspector or self-driven perfectionist. If we had no hope of changing from our old anti-God ways, then our lives would be pointless tragedies. Thankfully, this is not the case.

We were working on Chapter 3 of Matthias Media‘s Back To Basics in preparation for someone’s baptism.

¹¹ For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, ¹² training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, ¹³  waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, ¹⁴  who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2)

The same grace of God that brought us salvation also trains us to live God’s way, because this was the purpose of Jesus’ death in our place. Therefore we are not left bereft and without divine help. Yet, this does not mean we sit around and not do anything – because if we are really passionate about pleasing Him, then we would be even more obsessed about godliness than Jiro is about sushi.

A vintage-chic home decor blog post in the flesh! British flag bunting! The retro factor was no token – there weren’t just old Singer factory chairs and tables made from old sewing machine ones, or random old cash registers and Underwood typewriters and weighing scales, but also tea towels!, lovely old plates and cups and glasses and cutlery you could use there and then purchase for home! Are those chairs made from old church pews? Even one wall was plastered with retro wallpaper. It was the experience of being immersed in an eclectic antique shop without the dust. (The Singer sewing machine table and my legs had a bit of a fight though with the knees taking most of the hits.) Yes, the old telephone does actually work. And yes, almost everything is for sale. Retro stock was shipped over from London in a container or sourced locally.

The better thing about the cafe was that so much of the food (even the jams – pineapple & rosemary, blackcurrant & pinot noir) was made in-house by Shenn Sim. This meant variety throughout the week, the ability to tweak recipes in response to feedback, and freshly baked goodness. The two separate groups of people i met prior to arrival highly recommended the passionfruit meringue tart – it was indeed refreshingly satisfying. The quiche wasn’t warmed up but still tasty. Someone gave the thumbs-up for the Valrhona sea salt caramel tart. The pear frangipane didn’t really stand a chance in this company.

The scones were alright (we generally prefer cream scone recipes): no clotted cream to accompany them, liked the unique taste of pineapple & rosemary jam but the sweet kick of the blackcurrant & pinot noir was something else. Coffee from Liberty Coffee beans off an old Elektra machine.

After, a bit of fresh air and sunshine trying out the new boomerang someone got me in Perth, in that lovely big field along Old Holland Road, attempting not to knock pretty RC planes out of the air.

Then dinner at Jane Thai at the somewhat dodgy Orchard Towers before Thomas Leeb and his percussion-hacked guitar took to the stage at the RELC Auditorium.

In line with the week’s discussion about supporting missionaries, headed up North in the early morning to speak with a family there. Which leaves the next few hours for clearing China work.

Many miles to go before i sleep. Chuffed.

To the layperson, this seemed to be the sequence of events: in 2006, the year Jim Lahey’s No Knead Bread recipe arguably started to spawn the artisanal bread renaissance and attendant micro-bakeries, there arrived, opposite Thian Hock Kheng Temple on Telok Ayer Street, Kenny and Karen and Books Actually (now at Yong Siak Street, Tiong Bahru Estate).

They sold second-hand (and new) books for what seemed an exorbitant amount for those of us who still trawled Bras Basah Complex and lo-fi hand-printed and/or hand-stitched ephemera (postcards, bookmarks, journals, cahiers) that would eventually be parked under the “Birds & Co.” label. The price tag signalled to customers that this was not a thrift shop and at the same time elevated old stuff to objects of desire. The unique quirkiness of the space was enhanced by a series of plastic green soldiers along the stairway to the shop on the second storey, a dunce cap on an olive chair in the corner outside the shop, and retro decor within (including not-for-sale old Polaroid cameras).

Hundredth monkey theory validity aside, a Lomography shop set up before or about the same time on Smith Street before wearing large plastic frames was in fashion.

Then The Little Drom Store, Cat Socrates, and vintage rag and bric-a-brac shops (that somehow also encompass the tchotchke, handmade independent labels etc that inevitably accompany granny’s clothes):

• C K Collection (not Calvin Klein. 586 Serangoon Road),
• David Antiques (215 Rangoon Road),
• Deja Vu Vintage,
• Dulcetfig (facebook),
• Dinky Di’s (Golden Landmark Shopping Complex),
• Dust Bunny Vintage,
• Five Stones Vintage,
  
  
  
  
• Flea & Trees (facebook),
• Granny’s Day Out,
  
  
  
• Nana & Bird,

• Oakham Market,
• Past Image (#03-08 Excelsior Shopping Centre),
• The Attic Lifestyle Shop (04-146A Far East Plaza),
• The Heritage Shop (93 Jalan Sultan),
• Trippies (42 Bussorah Street),
• Salvation Army Thrift Store(s),
• Stevie’s General Store.

And now, demand has been such that shops (not along Sungei Road) sell vintage / rehabilitated / re-purposed / restored / pre-loved stuff for stiff prices that might shock a person of that certain era. Well it’s a “free economy”, so furniture that you could once get from garage sales or next to the trash can now be acquired in sanitised settings. Though they may not be considered collectibles or antiques (but when do objects make it over that threshold?), retro (including mid-century which may be considered distinct from specifically Singaporean retro) lust can be assuaged at:

• A Thousand Tales,
• Asher’s Vintage Market (facebook),
• Barossa Furnishings,
• Changi Junk Store (facebook),
• Forår: for wood and vintage,
• Hock Siong & Co. (facebook),
• Jennifer’s Vintage and Antique (facebook),
• Journey East (Tan Boon Liat),
• Junkie’s Corner (94 Jalan Senang),
• Koda‘s Commune,
• Belle and Cheu’s Like That One, Long-longtime Store (facebook),
• Lorgan’s The Retro Store (facebook),
• Mad About Vintage,
• Oddyssey – odds and whatnots (facebook),
• ReStore,
• Room of Woods (facebook),
• Rumah Kita (facebook),
• Second Charm,
• Soon Soon Hong Huat (by Booksactually),
• Tong Mern Sern Antiques Arts & Crafts (acerbic neighbour of The Plain cafe),
• Viewpoint Trading.

If replicas are the barometer of popular taste then it would should be of note that the furniture reproduction business is also booming (though mostly for mid-century -> Modern or vague approximations): Comfort Furniture, Gnee Hong, Lorgan’s The Retro Store, Lush-Lush.

Similarly, if wedding accoutrements are any indication, the healthy rental rates for kombis and old VW beetles should attest to the vintage trend: Kombi Rocks (facebook), Ray’s Vintage Rental, as should recommendations for bespoke invitation cards (see also Ri Stationers, Box In Blue).

So now the letterpress gets its 15 minutes with great excitement being generated about its process and the tactile enjoyment it provides (for more, see Briar Press). Excellent for stationery fetishists:

• Kin Yiap Press – for more commercial design printing,
• Paper Tiger Press – “purveyor of luxuriously tactile paper goods”, “evoking a bygone era of sophisticated correspondence”, “it’s got real soul, but it also isn’t exact”, “subtly unique”,
• PapyPress – 1950s Heidelberg Windmill, “letterpressed print speaks to a bygone era when printing required great skills and the printer regarded as an artist. The result is an art piece that aroused romantic and oftentimes sensual feelings in the beholder”,
• The Gentlemen Press – run by two ladies,
• Perched On A Tree Letterpress (facebook) – when they finally get a space to call their own,
  
• possibly a Bureau Press at The Bureau?

If all else fails, there’s always Jonathan Wright stuff at Strangelets, a design shop next to BooksActually along Yong Siak Street, Tiong Bahru Estate.

We were talking about the occurrence of this sort of thing at last week’s somewhat secret supper club, “supper clubs” being unique to urban locations where alienated individuals crave some way of connecting with fellow humans. In the same way, the retro zeitgeist seems to have been propelled by city dwellers so desperate for human warmth that they would pay a premium for anything “artisan”, “bespoke” or “handmade” regardless of actual quality (ah, but who determines quality?).

So what is valuable and what isn’t? If one man’s junk is another man’s prized antique, who is right about such attribution of value? Who is to say that the old couple who have hoarded decades-worth of newspapers in their flat have psychological issues? The fruitfly-lifecycle of these trends tell us this much: some fools sell and some fools buy, but the wise man invests in things with objective value. The Eternal One who is in control of the history and future of humankind tells us as much:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” (Matthew 7:21-27)

This method of printing is quite simple; it was access to a Gocco printer i really wanted:

1. Draw design with [Micron] pen on a piece of paper.
2. Move over to the printer. Cover the printing pad with a piece of paper.
3. Insert screen (red arrow first) into printer.
4. Insert two new flash bulbs into head.
5. Place design onto paper-covered printing pad.
6. Close lid and press down. The bulbs with expend their lives with a bright flash.
7. The design should have been transferred to the screen.
8. Keep the design on, flip open the plastic film and put a good amount of ink on the screen.
9. Return to the printer, insert the inked screen, place target card on printing pad, press lid to print.
10. Leave prints to dry.

To clean screen, scrape off excess ink with a scrap card first, then wipe with a bit of Gocco ink remover, turn it around and wipe other side once with dry tissue. Clean the plastic sheet with wet wipes.

After, we moseyed down to The Orange Thimble for our first meal of the day at 5.30pm,

and a chat and/or laugh about typography, the font of Singapore street signs, teaching people to really Look at their surroundings, the relationship between typography and architecture, Simon Garfield’s Just My Type (a book about fonts), cross-cultural communications, and silly interpretations of each other’s prints from the afternoon. (And, apparently i am a one-person peanut gallery.)

Despite the problems in determining culture-specific indications of “no!”, words are still far more effective tools of communication than visuals. The Draw Something app (+ fat fingers on an iPhone not an iPad) wouldn’t have provided so many hours of entertainment if trying to understand what the other person was attempting to communication didn’t involve so much guesswork (sometimes!):

And as i was protesting the interpretations imposed on my design by friends (both old and very new), it occurred to me that the Bible featured in my print, taken by them as representing faith or purity, is actually the primary means chosen by God to reveal himself to humans. We are not left with the task of trying to guess at God’s will for us from dodgy visions or shifty dreams (if any); the Bible is accessible to all and tells us clearly our place in this world and how we are to live – we can enjoy our coffee and tea and sweets because they are all good gifts from God, we can love in a way that we were built to love, we know who God is and how to please him. Next time, i should adopt the imagery of Psalm 119:150:

Your word is a lamp for my feet,
a light on my path.