I ONCE cooked with Watchara Sirvanjanakul, aka Roger, in a sweaty cubbyhole at his restaurant in Avonmore Centre in Morningside. The experience conjured up images of The Year of Living Dangerously and I felt, fleetingly, like Mel Gibson. Only, whereas old drop-dead gorgeous Mel struggled to find his feet in the political turmoil of Jakarta, I grappled with the heat and Roger’s accent. I foolishly clutched a wok, as if to make myself useful, and Watchara whirled around with alarming Asian efficiency. Stop what you are doing, get down to Green Mango.