Farewell, old friends, I say with regret, bidding goodbye to fried food of every description.

I seem to recall in the dimmest recesses of memory a time when I actually did not like food that was crispy. As a very young child, I preferred soft, easy to chew and easy to swallow food - not spicy at all, and if it was sweet, so much the better. I even hated meat, certainly did not like potatoes and if it was fishy, well, forget it. Under no circumstances would my mouth open to allow entry to those boney instruments of child-torture.

When did it all change? I think I can trace it back to when my Dad used to come home with curry puffs as a treat.He was so proud when we began to eat curries, and chillies - almost a rite of passage, as it were. Then there were the kropok which Ah Poh used to dry in the sun, then fry and store in numerous gigantic tupperware containers - so much the better for eating in front of the TV.

Then came the Pringles era. When these first made an appearance, Dad used to buy cannisters by the dozen and we would all sit companionably in front of the TV, or with visitors in the living room, eating the stuff and drinking coffee or tea or alchohol (or, in the case of us kids, something sweet and fizzy out of a can) chatting and bonding as a family.

Then, as we began in our own jobs, we brought home different versions of the fried foods that Dad used to buy, widening the scope - triangle curry puffs from different stalls, chicken curry puffs, sardine curry puffs, potato curry puffs, curry puffs with egg, without egg, spring rolls with shrimp and without, ngoh hiang, yew char kway (stuffed and un-), fish fingers, bergedel, tauhu goreng, Indian rojak, Malay rojak, gado-gado, fried fish balls, fried wantons, kropok with chilli sauce - anything crunchy, oily, and dribbling sweet sauce was an instant hit in our home.

I have today, excessively, even for me in pre-cancer days, had three curry puffs (one with puff pastry), and two 'butterfly' thingies (made from yew char kway dough) and enjoyed every single bite. And with these, I bid goodbye forever to my fried friends.

I have many happy and fond memories of the first time I ate them, and times spent, particularly with my father, who loved fried food equally well. My father died of cancer 8 years ago and is still missed. Every time my brothers and I eat something unhealthy, we inevitably talk about how Dad loved the stuff, all the while shaking our heads, thinking: If we knew then...Giving up fried foods is almost like saying goodbye to Dad all over again.

However, having read last night how fried stuff, especially doughy things, absorbs loads of oil, how the pastry contains margarine (a trans-fat and cancer causer, and ultimately, killer food), how oil, if reused as it is in all the deep fried food stalls, loses its ability to retain heat, causing the food to need a much longer cooking period, thereby increasing its cancer-causing capabilities...well,the writing is on the wall (or in the wok). I need to give these things up. No more chips. No more tempura (wail, wail, wail). No pisang goreng (or any goreng). And (wail ad infinitum), absolutely no more curry puffs.

Really, people talk about chemo reducing the quality of life. Well, let me tell you, chemo was nothing compared to having to give up my favourite foods. I've already given up steaks, foie gras, roast lamb, nouvelle cuisine, and every single cheese in the world. Now,its fried food. What's left? A dismal, yawning chasm of non-activity for hands and mouth while watching TV. Now, it's just me and the flickering screen, no mood enhancers, no sub-theme of sensory pleasure. Just the box. And if the program is crap, I will have to admit it, since I cannot distract myself with food. And will have to switch the TV off. And find something else to do.

Like what? Perhaps twiddling my thumbs will stave off the post-chemo neuropathy, burn a few more calories, stimulate my cardio-vascular system...or, perhaps, I will just write another blog entry! Every cloud...