Making fried rice lunch boxes (Singapore)

For my first secretarial job in Singapore, with a firm of three lawyers, I would get up a bit earlier and make a fried rice lunch box with the surplus rice from the night before.

My second sister could never get out of bed in time for work, never mind get up earlier to make a lunch box.  The first time she found me making the fried rice, she used the same line with me as she had with Dave over his fried rice*, peering over my shoulder, “Ooh, that smells yummy.  Can I just have a l-e-e-e-tle taste?”  Before I knew it, a “l-e-e-e-tle taste” had decimated what was to be a full lunch for me.

So I made a bigger dish next time:  one portion for me, one portion for my sister.  Being the kind of weak-willed person that she is, however, she couldn’t wait until lunch time.  By the time I had put the lid on my lunch box, she had already eaten half of her lunch.  At least she had the grace to say, with a sheepish giggle, “Who would believe it, huh?  You, with a full lunch box, yet so skinny.  Me, with only half a lunch box, yet so fat?”  

*see blog entry My brother’s late-night dinner

(Singapore 1973-74)