Everything Changes
It started with too much time on my hands and a sudden longing for aglio olio pasta. Not just any aglio olio pasta, but that one from there.
Tucked in the uppermost floor of TB Plaza is a humble western-style restaurant where we used to frequent. The food is relatively cheap and tastes great. It is also the place where I first discovered the most wonderful aglio olio pasta, which, until now, is still unrivalled by all the other aglio olio pasta I have tried elsewhere.
There are new faces all around except for one - the boss of the place. He serves me pleasantly, his face displaying no hint of recognition.
“Table for one, miss?”
“Yes, please.”
He brings me a menu. It is thicker, posher-looking. The variety of food has expanded, but I order my old favourites without any hesitation and wait quietly for them.
The soup tastes the same - rich and creamy. They now serve it in a dainty china cup, along with a thin saucer. The pasta does not disappoint, it is still as delicious and lip-smacking as ever. But the serving is smaller and they use a different kind of fish. They play the same music. The decor has not changed. The service provided is of their typical style.
Everything is the same, yet everything is different.
- the core , the sentimental lover
s t a r m | s t December 29th, 2005
