A Good Time: Group Therapy At Katong


It’s happened before. We’d be wondering “Is there somewhere else we can go?” Other than Drury Lane and The Plain. Somewhere where we won’t feel fleeced, somewhere where the food quality is consistent… (I know everyone has their favourite place and you can be more forgiving if it’s a place you’ve already pledged your loyalty to. But ….)

So someone told us let’s go to Group Therapy at Katong and we weren’t very sure if we were gonna like it (mainly ‘cos we have cafe fatigue) but perhaps it’s always good to have an open mind.

It was that week that lots of trees flowered all over Singapore. We were due to arrive shortly before 12. Somehow we managed to find parking at Katong V easily, and we schlepped across the open air car park, so distracted because there were flowers all over the floor and our feet went “crunch, crunch” and Singapore looked so pretty.

Somehow we managed to get a table within 3 minutes. What a great start to a Saturday, I say.

And the food was good. The hash brown and its sour cream nailed it. Our friend (hi April!) had too many mushrooms, I actually ordered salmon and enjoyed it, and Siew quietly ate up her chicken stew (which wasn’t really a stew but a slab of chicken with a great sauce on top).

Things weren’t cheap but we are supposed to be happy that there’s no service charge. I would have ordered another coffee but there were too many people crowding the entrance, waiting for a seat.

If anyone wants to meet us in our neighbourhood, I think we will have to meet them at Group Therapy.

PS: If you have difficulty looking for it after coming in from East Coast Road, just walk through the NTUC Finest.

Starting To Bake Bread


These days, the level of domesticity is pretty high.

For a time, I turned into one of those that stares silently at the supermarket’s baking shelf; collecting tools over days and weeks, while refusing to buy specialized/ expensive versions; looking too many times at the clock to see when I can get home to get some baking done. That was the initial period. I still hadn’t figured out what went wrong.

I also stalked the baking shelf at the bookstore but decided no book other than James Morton’s appealed to me. Now, I did get something wrong (overdoing the folding before resting when I only needed to do it no more than 10 times) so I can’t say it is truly and devastatingly clear but I really like how approachable James Morton had made baking bread out to be.

(I actually saw his book months ago but only bought it after we had finished moving homes. So happy that I could still find it even though I didn’t write the name down!)

I am now better at baking some edible loaves, and I can’t quite stand Gardenia bread anymore (!). I find myself missing a piece of my home-baked bread; I give names to each type of loaf I baked. So far I have Pong Pong (meaning bloated; for the round ones) and Tin Boy (those that come out from rectangular tins).