And God created my mum and Morton's

I always love Morton's, the mecca of steak-house in Hong Kong. (This is personal opinion only. No tomatoes and eggs please, thank you). But this is only the second time I went there. The first time was quite a while ago. I remember I only ordered the mignon. I wasn't that into food outside before my mum died. I always love my mother's cooking. She is a loving and wonderful cook. She cooks so well that I never found eating out a pleasure.It is more a social occasion for friends to catch up rather than a pure experience. And I hate going to Chinese eateries for dinner because it seems so much a disrespect and betrayal to my mother. In fact, even though I ate out on average three times a week before my mum died, I always went home and had an extra meal of her food. Her food is tasty and with lots of love. Don't want you to get goose bumps and I am not talking about sentimental crap here. I am trying to tell you how much my mum loves us by memorizing our favorites and make sure we can all have healthy and loving food. My sticky-rice dumplings were always tailor-made for me, with lots of fatty pork and dried scallops and dried mushroom. You may bet to differ judging from the ingredients of the dumplings. But this only happens once a year and the dumplings memory so etched in my mind that I couldn't bear the dragon boat festival because it reminds me so much of my mother.

Now, Morton's. What does Morton's share with my mother? My mother cooks domestic food and here at Morton's it does fine-dining cum Chicago grill cum steakhouse. Well, to start with, its food evokes in me a feeling of love. That has never happened to me on any kinds of food, except dim sum (at home, not in the restaurant, please). But its tuna tartare and especially its souffle, sent me right away to heaven, as if I really know what heaven means. It gives the pleasure that for whatever price, it's worth it. The souffle is huge and fluffy. With the cream to go with, you almost ready to die in the syrupy concentric circle and with every bite I took it sent me to vertigo. I shared with my friend and I kept digging and digging and telling him how much I felt I was in love. I never love sweets. But souffle is my soft spot. And souffle at Morton's? You can't beat it.

Food goes beyond mere palate-pleasing affair. It carries an implication of what you go for in a relationship. And how far one can go. Food means a lot to me. Not that I am a food critic. But my love of certain food shows my identity and I relate myself so much to it that I won't be able to spend my entire life with someone who carries the kind of cuisine I could never fall for. I still have that criterion of making sure that the nationality of my boyfriend or my husband should be one of my favourite cuisines. I can never imagine saying something like this to a guy, "I love you. But I don't love your food." It's such an insult to that person, and it's an insult to me. Better be safe than sorry. There is only one kind of cuisine that I can't really bring myself to try again. And only one, so guys, come hither - to the food of love.