Time Flows Thin as Clothes: Pandan Cake from Bengawan Solo
At sunset, I went to meet Miss Cheah, bringing a gift, a pandan cake from Bengawan Solo.
We found a casual spot by the Serangoon Reservoir, sitting with our backs to the water and facing the Johor Strait, the sea breeze gently ruffling our hair. The sunset turned to afterglow, slowly disappearing behind the buildings. The tall rain trees stood as dark silhouettes against the dimming sky. The breeze was cool and soft. Fishing boats bobbed on the sea, their faint lights glowing. Under the deep blue dome of the sky, a few solitary figures on a nearby beach looked lonely. Yet, the person beside me must be lonelier.
Miss Cheah’s partner had passed away suddenly six months ago. Two lifelong nonconformists had walked through most of their lives hand in hand, only to end up alone again at twilight. Marriage cannot guarantee forever, nor can love; someone always leaves first. From the corner of my eye, I saw her relaxed, graceful smile, her hair now streaked with white. Time spares no one—it leaves its marks silently.
It had been nearly five years since I last saw them both. Miss Cheah was my consultant, and her partner Danny was also a brilliant business advisor. They chose a life traveling between cities—work-friendly and full of fresh discoveries. Their journeys also allowed them to explore many cuisines. Danny loved cooking and had a refined palate; we all called her a Michelin guide’s unofficial reviewer.
“So, have you settled back in?” I asked cautiously, careful not to stir painful memories. Even though we’d all been shocked and saddened by Danny’s passing, no one can truly feel the depth of someone else’s grief.
“I’m settled. Everyone goes through this. How about you? I noticed you’ve been writing food journals lately. I sorted through some of Danny’s notes, maybe they’ll help you,” she said openly, easing the awkwardness. She handed me a few pages filled with Danny’s impressions of Michelin-starred restaurants in Singapore.
“If you visit these places and write about them, you’ll do just fine. Consider his notes as support from an old friend,” she said.
“Alright, let’s plan a visit and see if the hype is real,” I smiled.
“It’s funny that originally, the Michelin brothers wanted people to drive more, wear out their tires, and buy new ones. So they encouraged food exploration to get people on the road. The guide got better and better, but the tire business didn’t really boom. Instead, the Michelin Guide became a business itself. Funny, right? Many things don’t go as planned, but sometimes going with the flow turns out well,” she laughed.
“Have you decided to move back to Singapore for good?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s time to think about retirement. Singapore is good for that. The government offers senior-friendly plans considering healthcare, home care, and lifelong learning to keep people active. A society’s civility shows in how it treats its elderly and children,” she said calmly. In Singapore, “senior” usually means over 60—a stage when child-rearing and career pressures ease, and life gains new freedom and relaxation. Despite her sharp mind, you’d never guess her age.
“That’s right. The government has recently launched subsidies for senior-friendly facilities, like wall-mounted folding shower seats, handrails by stairways, wider bathroom doors, and home fire alarms. It’s a great choice to enjoy your later years here,” I said.
“Yes. Life is simple. We don’t own anything around us, only our bodies and time belong to ourselves. All we can do is accept what comes and enjoy the present,” she smiled.
“Well then, that’s exactly what we should do now—eat,” I said, lifting the pandan cake. Bengawan Solo is a famous traditional bakery in Singapore, especially known for its pandan cake. The founder, Anastasia Tjendri-Liew, is an Indonesian Chinese immigrant. The brand name “Bengawan Solo” comes from the Solo River in Indonesia, a symbol of her longing for home.
Unwrapping the cake, the rich pandan fragrance filled the air. We tore it apart and shared. The cake was soft and fluffy, neither too sweet nor greasy.
“This brand’s strength lies in baking fresh every day, using freshly squeezed coconut milk and pandan juice. That’s why the cake is so light and fragrant,” Miss Cheah said, savoring the cake as she gazed toward the strait.
The sea breeze rippled the waves, and the moonlight cast a soft, yellow glow.
岁月长衣衫薄，斑兰蛋糕Bengawan Solo
日落时分，我去赴Miss Cheah的约会。我带的伴手礼，是一份Bengawan Solo的斑兰蛋糕。
我们在实里达大坝随便找了一个地方坐下，背靠实里达水库，面朝柔佛海峡，吹起了海风。夕阳化作余晖，渐渐隐匿于楼宇之间，高大的雨树在暗暗的天光里宛如黑色的剪影。海风凉凉的，温柔地吹起我们的头发，海面上摇摆的渔船里亮起了微弱的光。在深蓝色的穹顶之下，不远的海滩上，几个形单影只的人，看上去很孤独。此时，我身边坐着的人，应该更孤独吧。
Miss Cheah的爱人半年前猝然离世，两个不婚主义者携手走过了大半的人生，人到黄昏，又重新回到孑然一身。婚姻不能保证的东西，爱情也不能，总有一个人要先走的。我从余光里看她，脸上带着松弛优雅的微笑，鬓边的头发白了好多。原来，时间没有放过我们任何一个人，总在无声里留下它的痕迹。
距离上次和他们两位见面，算算也快五年了。Miss Cheah是我的咨询顾问，她的爱人Danny也是位非常优秀的商业咨询师。他们选择了一种城市旅居生活，便于工作也便于发现生活里的新鲜感。穿梭于不同的城市，也给了他们探寻美食的便利。Danny会下厨也很懂吃，我们都叫她米其林的编外评审员。
“怎么样？回来都安顿好了吗？”我小心翼翼地选择问候的话，生怕说错了话勾起她失去爱人的伤心之情。即便听到Danny离世的消息，我们也经历了震惊，惋惜，遗憾，很难过，但人终究无法做到真正的感同身受，她所经历的痛苦，我们无法想象。
“安顿好了。人嘛，都有这一遭。你呢，我看你最近在写美食日记，有空整理了一下Danny的笔记碎片，也许对你有用。”她大大方方地提起Danny，解除了我的窘迫感。我随手接过来她递来的几页纸翻看，都是Danny写的他们去新加坡米其林一星餐厅的感受。
“这些你去餐厅吃一圈，也能写的似模似样，他的文字权当是老朋友给你的书助助力吧。”她说。
“好，我们约着再去尝尝 ，看看是不是名副其实。”我笑说。
“说来有意思，米其林兄弟最初是想让人们多开车，开远一点，有轮胎磨损就可以更换轮胎。所以就鼓励人们去发掘美食，让大家都开车出门。结果评选越做越好，轮胎生意没有促进很多，倒是把米其林指南做成了生意。有趣吧。可见很多事情未必都是按照计划行事，但是顺其自然，结果也不差。”她笑笑说。
“是啊。你这次是决定好要搬回新加坡住了吗？”我问。
“决定好了，是该考虑养老的问题啦。这里就很好，政府有乐龄易计划，考虑到老年人的医疗保健，居家护理，还有终身学习机会让人保持活力。一个社会的文明程度，要看它对待老年人和儿童的方式。”她不紧不慢地说，新加坡的乐龄是对60岁以上年龄段的别称，大概意思就是人生到了退休年龄，养儿育女的烦恼没有了，竞争激烈的工作搁下了，生命出现前所未有的自由、轻松感。Miss Cheah也许因为一直在职场工作的原因，完全猜不出她的实际年龄。
“对哦。最近政府正在为老年人推出‘亲乐龄设施’津贴，好像是由政府来安排加装浴室内的壁挂式折叠淋浴椅、在有楼梯的大门旁安装扶手栏杆、加宽浴室和厕所的门，还有一些居家防火警报器的设施。回来安享晚年是个很好的选择。”我说。
“是啊。其实人很简单，你身边的一切都不是你的，只有你的身体和时间是你自己的。能做的就是接受到来的一切，好好享受现在。”她笑着说。
“那，这也是我们现在要做的事，开始吃吧。”我笑着举起斑兰蛋糕。Bengawan Solo 是新加坡著名的传统糕点和甜点品牌，尤其以斑兰蛋糕闻名。创始人Anastasia Tjendri-Liew是印尼华裔移民，品牌名称 "Bengawan Solo" 源自于印尼的一条著名河流 "Solo River"，寄托着创始人对家乡的思念。
拆开包装，浓郁的斑兰香味散发出来，我们掰开来分着吃，蛋糕口感松软，不甜不腻。
“这个牌子的蛋糕好就好在每天都是新鲜制作的，使用的椰奶和班兰汁都是鲜榨出来，做出来的蛋糕才这么蓬松，香味浓郁。”Miss Cheah吃着蛋糕看着海峡的远方。
海风吹皱了海浪，月光昏黄。
