"I can't be with you," my wife said, 12 years ago, just as I thought we were ‘going out’.

Why?

"There's one thing I really can't stand about you. But to change it means you have to change your character, and you won't do it, so that's why this won't work."

Oh man, she wants me to stop playing games, she thinks I stink, she wants me to have plastic surgery, or liposuc-

"It's your clothes."

Wait, what?

"You, have no fashion sense."

Ok. Er. That's it? The way I dress?

"What do you mean 'that's it'? It is very important!"

For you, maybe. I just wear what’s comfortable.
Listen, if that's the only, ONLY obstacle, tell me what to wear, and I'll wear it.

-

She really did, you know.

She went to Japan and came back with a bag of Uniqlo. (Hey, Uniqlo was cool in 2009.) I still have the orange-plaided fleece jacket. My friends should recognise the yellow/brown not so ultra-light down puffer jacket I've been wearing for the last 12 years. When I first saw the clothes, I suspected in her mind, 'fashionable' was just 'not black'.

I wore the clothes, and we became a couple.

-

Nowadays, I'm her wardrobe consultant.

I buy clothes for HER.

I'm the one who bought her the Sou Sou cardigans in Tokyo which she now recommends to all her friends.

The Gorman raincoat.

My friends have witnessed me fighting over the Uniqlo Marimekko's against a sea of white women.

Just because I don't wear nice clothes, doesn't mean I don't understand design.

I take her through current trends - stripes are out, psychedelic is in. Floral is acceptable. Puffy sleeves are in, but not when you have round shoulders, men's shirt is always good ...

You know what she says?

"Just get me something comfortable."

Wait a minute.
That sounds familiar.

You mean that fundamental obstacle to the start of our relationship, that one thing you couldn't stand about me.

That's where we're at now?

-

For the last few weeks, I've been baking to my daughter's requests, yea?
Cakes, cupcakes, doughnuts, cookies...

Earlier this week I asked her what she wanted this weekend.

"I want purin."

The voice didn't come from the daughter, it came from the other end of the room.

The temperature gave me a brain freeze.

The daughter's read enough of Disney stories to recognise the wrath of a queen's jealousy, so she didn't object.

So yesterday, I made purin.

-

Japanese Purin(from pudding) is just creme caramel.

It's low-key Japan's national dessert. Not everyone cant afford wagashi, but I bet every single Japanese kid has tried a Morinaga purin from the convenience store.

Ironically, it has no Japanese ingredients to make it distinctively Japanese.

In fact, I think it's the only dish which you can make as good if not better than in Japan.

Good quality milk, sugar, eggs.
That's it.

If you're after some pick-me-up for your self-confidence after multiple failings from baking the Japanese Cotton Cheesecake, this is the recipe for you.

It is actually from the wife's home econ notebook.

The caramel:

Heat up 2-3 tbsp of sugar in a small pot for 5 minutes.
Once it starts to melt, brown and bubble, add 1-2 tsp of water.
Let it splatter, stir, then evenly distribute into 3-4 bowls/ramekins/glass jars.

The creme:

Heat up 350ml (1.5cups) of milk to 65°C or until the edges start to boil, heat off.
Mix in 2 tbsp of sugar.
Whisk 3 eggs, and slowly add to the milk.
If the eggs clump together, your milk was too hot.
Start again.

Optional: replace 0.5 cup of milk with cream.

Add 2-3 tsp of vanilla whatever.
Strain the milk mixture.

Fill up the vessels with caramel underneath, steam for 15-20 minutes.
Chill.

In short, it is the sweet tooth version of Chawanmushi.
(Or is Chawanmushi a savory version of purin?)

I always screw up the steaming because I never know how high the heat should be.
The book says 'adjust accordingly', which is the same effect of not being written at all.

On a day like yesterday, when the wife saw bubbles on the purins, she made a face.

A face that implied: I'll eat it, but I'm not entirely happy.

Fine, it's a long weekend.
I can make a second batch, with a different recipe.

I knew there's a non-baking, non-steaming, gelatine powder version out there, but that's not the point.

The point was I wanted to use heat, but not make bubbles.
I'd taken it personally, like Jordan.

The second time, I used yolks only.
I found the last batch a little too 'egg-y', so I used 4 yolks instead of 3 whole eggs. The egg whites always block the strainer and create wastage anyway. Better off keeping them in a container and use it for fried rice/instant noodles/egg drop soup.

I replaced some white sugar with demerara so it'd brown faster but not burn.

I added 2 tbsp of leftover coconut cream.
That's the wild card.

And in the end, exactly like baking a Japanese cheesecake, I baked the purins in a 140°C oven over a water bath for 25-30 minutes, jiggling the tray to check doneness from time to time.

Success.
No bubbles.
Soft like Tau Foo Fah.

The wife was impressed at first.

"Let me, let me!"

Then she froze.

"Ew, what's this? Pandan? Oh, coconut milk. Not my taste."

She walked away.

At that point, I was fine with it.
I took a creative risk with the coconut cream because I wanted to see if it'd taste like Sago Gula Melaka, another Malaysian pudding dessert with palm sugar.

The battle wasn't against her.
It was against the bubbles.

And I won.
Tralalalalala.

I have my people on the Subtle Asian Cooking group anyway.
They'd understand my victorious discovery.

So I chilled the remaining two purins as I wrote this draft.

One to eat, the other to photograph and post for the next day.

What a happy end to a happy day.

......

......

Do you know where this is going?

Stupid guys like me are still lost and clueless.

But the girls, they're laughing their heads off right now.

The girls know.

They know, my wife would eat my purin from the fridge.

The purin she said 'ew' to.

Like a customer who asks for a refund after finishing the whole dish.

Like my fashion sense.

That's why I only have this half-eaten purin to show.

Not because of artistic expression, but betrayal!

The real lesson here, man, is a piece of relationship advice.

Your spouse doesn't always mean what she says.

Sometimes she doesn't know if she actually meant to not mean what she said. It's up to her to decide when she actually means to mean or not mean what she said.

Even after 12 years of being together.

-

Note

We are not Facebook friends, my wife and I.

I refuse to be those couple who likes each other's posts or tag each other, or share links on each other's wall and claim that as 'interactions'.

She is, however, also a member of the Subtle Asian Cooking Facebook group.

So I'm not actually bad mouthing behind her back; I'm openly expressing my discontent.

Somehow I think this grumpiness will only feed into her happiness, make her more powerful.

She also points out that in my posts (or in my book) I use her and the daughter like props and accessories in a show.

To which I reply: ... AND?

What, you think people are really interested in me?

They're interested in YOU!
Plural.

Call me a cheap one-trick pony, but I cannot not write about them.

Because without them, there will be no cooking.

No cooking, no writing.

Here's another piece of marital advice from Chris Rock, the (divorced) comedian:

Your success is their success.
Your purin is their purin.