Ah Kong

I pushed a full cart pass the laxly policed scanners before finding my way into mummy's embrace. The joy at having finally arrived in the land that I called home, and relief at the end of a long and tiring year, dissipated upon hearing the uttered words.

"Ah Kong is in the hospital."

"We didn't want to tell you because you were having your exams."

Time is experienced subjectively.

A stressful year seemed, to me, a long time. That, and the fact that the move to another country was a high stakes one. A do or die kind of thing (I exaggerate of course. But it sure felt like that).

Yet a year for Ah Kong seemed to move too rapidly. How could a person who appeared so in control of his mind and bodily functions at the start of the year deteriorate so much by December?

I would like to believe that Ah Kong waited for me to come home. Thank you for giving me the chance to see you for the last time. You lived a long and fulfilling life.

Rest in peace dearest grandpa.

Food memories

Growing up in a food loving Peranakan family, I have always been just a little bit food obsessed. My yearly family calendar is dotted with events surrounding food, such as Chinese New Year, the yearly National Day lunch that mummy single handedly accomplishes with lots of compliments and admiration from those invited, and the Christmas and New Year feast at my cousin's place. My earliest memories are images of my mother and grandmother chopping up vegetables and frying all the colours of the rainbow in a hot wok, the sounds of mummy's trusty kenwood fluffing up egg whites for her signature chiffon cake, and delicious food smells (particularly the fragrance of frying rempah or sambal belachan) wafting out from the kitchen.

When I was younger, more idealistic and fiercely feminist, I took the side of the bra burning feminists (not literally) and rejected the traditional female role as the nurturer and home maker. Hence, I never did take hold of the opportunity to learn first hand from the masters of the kitchen, a decision I regret today. My interest in cooking to preserve cultures,excite the senses and nourish the body only developed later in life when I started working. Being in a mindless 9 to 5 environment with a daily nightmarish journey on the public transport that was operating at a 100 times over its capacity (in my dramatised mind) made me seek out alternative hobbies to make life less dreary. So I began baking, experimenting with bread because I fell in love with the hard European types when I was in the continent during a semester exchange programme.

After packing my bags for a move to yet another continent for further studies and a career switch, I found myself longing for more time in the kitchen, recreating familiar recipes. I guess my homesickness manifested in the longing for food that was more readily available back home. While I am thankful to be in a place where  farmers markets are aplenty and people are as conscious about sustainable farming and cooking according to the seasonal produce available, I still hanker for the colourful and bustling streets of South East Asia where food is available at every corner and at any time of the day. Cannot wait to be home next week, even if it is only a short trip!