Food, Inglorious Food

Since Aziz mentioned it, I suppose I should try to get into the good books of the squad chairman by discussing the delectable cuisine from the Police Academy. After spending a large part of 16 weeks in the SAF [Yes laugh and scoff at the PTP permanent resident], the tale of crap food as a NS experience seemed to be the stuff of history books. The Singapore Food Industries catering was nothing short of edible and filling to boot, and we didn't even have to wash our mess trays because there were none! We ate on proper plates with real cutlery. I'm told the quality of food has declined somewhat since then, I suppose we were one of the first few batches to get the catered food so I suppose there was alot at stake to make the food taste good. Even the venerable old Police Mess has started to get catered food, so this might seem to be a quaint experience for anyone from the catered generation.

Nothing quite prepares you for your first meal at the mess, not even the stories of the seniors who had long since decided that lining their stomaches with palm oil from the tonnes of instant noodles that they ate in the barracks was preferable to taking their chances in the mess. And so, armed with our mess trays and cutlery we marched to the mess. During our first week, we marched off in half-u, but all subsequent dinners were taken in full walk out attire, that is shirt, tie, police pants and we even had to bring our rain coats just in case of untimely precipitation!

Then we laid eyes on it, the fighting fish, despite my best attempts to convince people that it was caught sometime before the founding of Singapore, was in its previous incarnation a selar fish that swam the seas until it was brutally hauled up by a net and after changing hands a few times found itself some time [uh actually, probably alot of time] later in the kitchen of the Police Academy and was subsequently deep fried in some very dirty oil for an extended period of time and then dumped along with many others in a huge pot and eventually finding its way onto my mess tray. Accompanying this delectable piece of seafood were some horrendously overcooked vegetables and some very hard rice and a piece of fruit.

Most of the time, those of us who ate to live would gobble down the food, wait for the others to finish and then head off to wash our mess trays using LAUNDRY detergent and then head off to the barracks wondering about the possible consequences of eating the food.

Seeing as that fish is more or less a universally accepted food, it appeared in almost every meal over the course of the week. Of course if the chef was feeling inspired, you'd get chicken in orange water (i.e. chicken curry) or if he was in a particularly sadistic mood, you'd get sotong delight.

Ah yes, sotong delight, something coined by Chia Tze Wei in an inspired moment. Of course, Mark and I couldn't resist building further on that, ocean fresh calamari simmered in a light tamarind sauce served on a plate of steamed rice accompanied by pan-fried garden fresh vegetables. Well, it was anything but a delight and it was a occasion for us to visit the canteen en masse after dinner!

Sometimes if we were lucky we'd get Briyani rice or towards the end of our stint at PA, spring chicken, for lunch, though the instructors often tried to get us to work off the calories after lunch! I still remembered running a 2 x 2.4 with a mutton briyani in the digestive system, but ah yes, that is also another interesting story!

Breakfasts were sometimes very strange too, some mornings, we'd get the bread baked by prisoners in Changi Prison with the spiciest chicken curry ever, just before PT as well or really non-descript bee hoon mixed with bean sprouts and salt! Despite all this, the teh or milo was really well prepared and was good for raising morale before the start of any day.

Let's see we've talked about breakfast, lunch and dinner, of course, for the hungry or those trying to go on hunger strike against the food regime, there was night snack. This rather quaintly consisted of a tin of Lion Brand biscuits (to last 2 days?? [correct me if I am wrong]) and 2 kettles of milo per squad which 3 unfortunates had to carry back to the barracks after dinner. Try sharing that amongst 42 hungry officer cadets when the average squad size was about 30 plus! The first to go were the chocolate flavoured biscuits, then the lemon cream biscuits and this was followed by anything with a modicum of flavour. By the end of the week, there would be an accumulation of the unflavoured biscuits and by the end of the month, Fauzi would be the one who had to consolidate all the unflavoured biscuits into one tin! But eventually, we ate them all.

Finally if all else failed, you'd bring in food from the canteen or outside the Police Academy. Now, either could be potentially hazardous. Any attempts to smuggle food from the outside had to run the gauntlet of checks at the gate on book-in nights, so that was never a good avenue to try. Even if you succeeded, there were other metaphysical barriers! Apparently the area that we lived in was formerly a cemetery, so anything with any pork content tended to be viewed dimly by the supernatural elements co-residing with us who were apparently Muslim. I've never seen it but some have claimed to have woken up to their beds shaking violently because of an errant char siew pau. Well, not for the faint hearted that's for sure.

But we, in the lower barrack, plus Terence, the permanent resident, were far more enterprising than that. Mark, who had gotten married sometime during junior term, was given a night off on Fridays to spend time with his wife, so he kindly offered to buy us food. Buy us food he did! It couldn't last, and it didn't! One night he returned bearing packs of Mee Goreng, in the darkness of the barracks we were wolfing down the mee goreng when suddenly we heard a voice, "OCT, what do you think you are doing?" Not waiting to find out if it was an instructor or an instructor come back from the grave, we, brave officer cadets dived into bed and froze. Thankfully, it wasn't someone like Liew or Adrian or Hassan for that matter because he chose to ignore the scent of mee goreng coming from the table at the end of the barracks and warned us to go to bed. Stay in bed we did!