It was so alive. Vivid colours just like a Taiwanese children’s encyclopaedia – “Little scientist of 100 topics”. Even Netter would be turning in his grave. I was holding onto a segment of small intestine, orangy-pink colour, surrounded by an array of tiny pulsating arterioles arranged neatly like a fan. I was getting hungry and soon the numbing feeling in the arms from retracting parts of abdomin was hypnotic enough to trasmit me to a few blocks away. The thought of crispy fried chicken filled my mind. Mmmm.

Or the other time on a late ward-round at 6pm without lunch yet. I saw a tall glass of chocholate milk shake on a table near a patient. My note writing turned into thoughts of a cold iced milk-tea from a greasy, Asian restaurant. I was so hungry and thirsty. On the occasions after leaving the hospital at 9 pm while being rostered on till 5:30pm, a plate of good salty and oily deep fried pork spare ribs from Dessert House on Swanston st, or a plate of roasted duck egg shiffon from A1 on Russell st, topped with a cold glass of iced milk tea is just amazing. Then I can bitch/gossip about the day.

Location and environment. Hervé This strongly believed that the environment in which you eat the food plays a vital role in how the food is percieved. Heston Blumenthal let you listen to the sound of crashing waves, wind and sea gulls while eating a dish that lookes like a beach, complete with sand and salty foam. Wonderful. I enjoyed a bowl of wedges at Cape Bridgewater (photo) yesterday.