Perseverance

Perseverance – the utterly annoying persistence that is supposedly to bring reward towards the end.


As most would know, I am in Australia finishing my degree. Tiffany had been spending time with me here till September when she returned to Singapore. After she left, my live returned to the lonely wreck that it was, however, remnants of her presence were everywhere. For instance, during the weekends we would try to bake. Tiffany had purchased a snack oven; it was a steal at just AU$30, and we would try to bake, cookies, biscuits and the sort. On most occasions, the outcome often did not meet the desired results we had hoped for. Some suffered burn injuries, over 70% burns in some cases. In others, there was, some may argue, some form of erectile dysfunction, the cookies that were meant to be hard turned soft and collapsed. On one occasion, we experimented with crossbreeds, creating new hybrid cookies, a splice between a well-formed coconut cookie and a dysfunctional coffee cookie. The mutation gave varying results, some would turn out pretty with a nice palatable texture, while some had simply lost the basic characteristics of fundamentally being a cookie. I believe this would be what Darwin would refer to as the process of ‘Natural Selection’. But on the whole, the experience would more often than not yield acceptable and palatable results.

So what about perseverance am I to be yapping about? Apparently, a lot of the ingredients, like flour and sugar were still in abundance. Hence, keeping to our tradition I proceeded to bake, only this time, doing it alone. On the first occasion, I wanted to make bread. Yes, your eyes did not mirage, I said bread in a snack oven. So I looked up a recipe on the Internet, followed it strictly like how Tiffany would, shoved it in the oven and crossed my fingers. What came out was a lump of carbohydrates so chemically bounded that I had problem cutting it. The disaster was to the extent that if I were to drop it on the kitchen counter at a height of 30cm, the resulting ‘clank’ would be on the same tangent as dropping a saucepan at the same height. I was heartbroken, devastated and emotionally torn apart. I had hoped to for a favourable result, allowing me to rekindle the messy yet wonderful moments when Tiffany was here. I got quite depressed seriously, over this inability to bake something properly. A week went by and I did notice that this failure did somehow affect my performance at campus. I was lethargic and restless, as weird as it seems, it really did happen. I had to resolve this, it was nagging feeling I had to answer, much of like that itch you have between the crevasses of your rear posterior. (I am undoubtedly a master with euphemisms) And so I tried again, this time completely ignoring any recipe whatsoever. The results were very satisfying indeed. It had a nice thin crust, a sweet aroma of vanilla and a soft delectable pallet. Believe me, I really wish I could let you taste it.


This was not a victory over the oven, nor was it an accomplishment that I could bake. It was more than that; it was a moment of connection between man and wife three thousand miles away. It may seem trivial to many, but to me it was an assurance, an emotional rekindle, and a silent declaration of love.

This loaf of bread, I dedicate to my lovely wife, who despite her absence, guided me, helped me, tugged on me, whispered to me, gleamed with me and prided with me.

Epilogue

“I’m going to try to bake bread”
“Wa..abuse my flour ah”

-Spencer and Tiffany