The Steak Lottery

Sometimes it happens by chance. Other times, through dogged, passionate pursuit. No matter how, finding the best place to eat a certain dish is an endeavour I'd happily devote my weekends to.

The best char kuay teow is at Zion Road, the best pepper crab in an old mansion on East Coast Road, the best Thai on Liang Seah Street. The best sushi bar, to me, is a casual corner shop in an Orchard Road building full of Japanese bars. I'm not being coy. Like my best friend's house, I know how to get there but, for the life of me, can't remember its address. You just order "omakase" and let the chef make whatever takes his fancy - at $150 a head, you get the most artisanal morsels quite unlike anything you get at the plebby conveyor places.

The search for the best steak, however, goes on. Sometimes, the honour goes to Hoggies. You can't help but have a soft spot for Hoggies because the people working there are so cheerful and the pictures of Bondi on the walls remind you of Sydney. The steaks are however a tale of hits and misses - sometimes they're so good you let out a blissed-out "Mmm". On occasion, they are so tough, you stop eating to give your jaws a break. It's a pity, because badly done steak is a waste of the poor cow's life, and the chef's time.

Why do they get it so right some days and so wrong on others? Is it because there are different chefs on duty? Or because the cooking let the side down during peak hours?

The last time we went there, I was determined that this would be a hit, so went into Meg Ryan's Sally mode and ordered "medium, and can you make it exactly medium, because sometimes it comes out undercooked, sometimes overcooked and other times it comes out perfect..."

When I've finished, he gave the waitress an apologetic smile and gave me a look that I think says "I am so not taking you here again".

"I think you freaked the waitress out."

I did, (or Sally did) but we got them good juicy ones that day.

Why do we keep going back if things are so erratic? Just for the chance of striking steak lotto -when the stars are aligned, and meat comes out thick, tender, pink and smoking. No other place have we had steak this orgasmic. Once you have been there, you will take your chances again.

And Now, We Wait

"Too bad all the people who know how to run the country are busy driving taxi cabs and cutting hair." - George Burns

Phew, I've recovered from my pesky virus, which means I've got a lot more living and slogging to do.

Thanks for googling my illness, even though I'm sure you have better things to do on a cold, stormy and hail-ridden Canberra night. Or maybe not. Oh heck, that's not the point - you know what I mean.

It's been a slaughter fest on the markets, and you know it is really hurting when the elegantly grand dining room at Raffles Hotel is virtually empty, except for the three of us journos.

A few weeks ago, it would have been filled with the low hum of busy chatter, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a spare table. It is now so still, every word, every clink rings through the airy, chandeliered room.

"What is the greatest thing about being a journalist?" asked the old boss.

"Um... being in the front seat when something big unfolds?"

"The big stories. We live for the big stories," he said.

I guess this week counts for a biggie. As with every storm, the only thing to do is to wait it out.