I've had mutton soup twice this week. The kind they sell at mamak shops at food centers? That kind. I don't have it very often but I've had it twice this week. It’s a grey soup with tender pieces of meat, seasoned with a bunch of Indian spices that melts in your mouth. It's so tender that I suspect it was cooked for a whole 48 hours before being served. Insufficient exercise just doesn't to cut it anymore. I now have to consume multiple cardiac-arrest-inducing dishes just so I can feel guilty and good at the same time. If you ever had a large, steaming hot bowl of mutton soup while it's raining heavily a few feet from your table you know what I mean. If you haven't, well it's like highly exertive, sweaty sex, the very night you walk out of a confined 3-week in-camp training, with some really hot, classy dame who is definitely not your wife. It's so good but so very bad. Then again, what do I know about sex? The auntie I had lunch with, said the mutton soup was unhealthy and very high in cholesterol, a fact that I was aware of. My first taste of this deadly delicacy was when I was 10 at ABC food center (now undergoing reconstructive surgery). My dad was the culprit who introduced me to the dish. At that age I had no knowledge of healthy nutrition and the evils of fats & cholesterol but deep in my heart I knew this dish has brought many Singaporeans to an early death, if not an annual bypass. It was thick, oily, spicy and heavenly steaming, hot. Gastronomical Bliss. That sheep did not die in vain I thought. Since then I've had many other sinful delights but that soup first torched the food-lust in me, a burning that has yet to abate. One day it will consume me I know. Be forewarned.
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