Just When Their Mom Was Not Around

Nov 5th, 2006. It was last Sunday. I sent my wife to KLIA for her to catch a flight to Trengganu at 8:40 in the morning. She was going there for a few days to access her students on the clinical settings at Trengganu General Hospital. At this time of the year she would be busy traveling to all the places as her 3rd year students are sent to the major hospitals in all the states in Malaysia including in Borneo Island, Sabah & Sawarak. With handful of lecturers in their team, they have to rotate over on the places to be at – whom to be where and when.

The night before, we put up at my sister’s (Kak Zah’s) house at Desa Vista over in Salak Tinggi (I jokingly call the place as Barking Heights), some 10 km, minutes away from the airport. Late in the afternoon on Saturday, I did text Kak Zah telling her not to prepare anything for us but it was too late, she had it all prepared, expecting us to come in the evening but too bad, I had to bring over the family for my company’s Deepa Raya dinner.

We had a good one at a restaurant in UK, we were ballooned after the dinner and I felt bad, we couldn’t eat anymore of those mouth-watering nasi kerabu, among other things Kak Zah had prepared for us. After all it was very late when we reached her place. Anyway, first thing in the morning, I had those nasi kerabu together with my wife for the breakfast before sending her to the airport, though.

Not having their mom at home is such a big deal to my children, unlike the time when I had to be away. A few years ago I had lived out of briefcase for most days in a month and they were used to not having me around. Thank God these days I seldom travel and my idea of paying back the lost time, I would try my best to have quality time with them; make a point to be at the dinner table (almost) every day.

We do no have maid at home. When my wife is not around, I would be the chief commander in the kitchen. That’s right. I cook for my kids. Who me, can’t cook? Of course I can. I used to live on my own when I was a student and am used to cooking my own food but you had better not ask whether I am very good at it or not. At least my kids wouldn’t go hungry. True… I can always make do without sweating out in the kitchen while we are only minutes away from Syida Tom Yam, Restoran DeNenek’s (It must’ve been someone with a good sense of humor who coined up the name), Kedai Bakar in SU1 or Maju Ahmad mamak restaurant but it’d be no fun.

I can be a good cook if I want to but I am afraid I’d be stripping off the title from my wife hence, she is a good cook and it runs in her family. Apart from that I am afraid that I would then start to give special interests in skincare, experiment with the brassiere or find comfort in lingerie. Nah… kidding, that doesn’t constitute the meaning as cooking is lopsided on female gender alone.

When I was in the kitchen and have my apron on, my kids swarmed around me that made me feel like a chef at a 5-star hotel or something. Move aside Chef Wan, and you too, Chef Ismail! It’s not an everyday thing for them to see me have a showdown behind the stoves; they get to see it only in certain seasons of the year and occasionally when their mom is out-of-town or going overseas for short courses, seminars or conferences, which is why their curiosity never fades.

Sam, my 12-year-old boy asked,

“What are you cooking, Bah?

“Well… I think we’ll have… errr… Fried Fish ala Turkey for our dinner tonight. Right… Fried Fish ala Turkey!”

“Uhhh…it sounds delicious! But how is it look like… and how is it tastes like?”

“Hehehe, sure it’s one of a kind. Very good…Yeah, yeah… I’m sure you’ll love it”

“Fried Fish ala Turkey or Fried Fish ala TONGKEK, Bah?”

Then he laughed. Fara and Edrin also found it amusing with Sam’s twisted name suggested. It sounds hilarious to me too. We laughed.

I had no idea what “tongkek” was, as much as I was not clear on my answer to him what Fried Fish ala Turkey was. I gave the name to him in impromptu to make it sounds fancy as I would usually do, like Barbados Chicken, Ethiopian Chicken Soup, Kratengdaeng Beef Stew, Sydney Sweet Shrimp, Chickamauga Fried Egg, Chin Peng Tofu, Inggeleke Nalladek Assorted Veges and all sorts of names I never pre-planned in my head, just plucked from the air, the ones came across my mind while saying it would then be exclusive if not conclusive.

So exclusive the dishes are and somewhat capricious I am, sometimes I cannot even recall the recipes for the dishes I came up with – I can bet a million if you can find them in the menu anywhere on this planet. There was once when I cooked squids for them, I tried to be fancy with the gravy, I put corn starch in it but it was too much until it became balls of gooey stuff wrapped around the squids – too slimy to eat, much worst than broiled okra. I chunked them off into a bin. Until this day Fara still chuckle over it. At another time I made flour mix to dip the chicken in before deep frying it. May be this was how Colonel Sanders started his business. Everthing was alright but not until I overdone with the salt & spices, thus, I had it covered up with extra MSG, fried it and… voila! I managed to have the taste, but my kids complained of nausea after eating – too much MSG, I supposed… may be too much of everything!

Finally, we were then ready at the table for our dinner. “Yummy! We are having Fried Fish ala Turkey tonight…” I emphasized on the name given. As always, I pre-empted their perceptions over my cooking. I just knew how to play up their minds, leading their thoughts for some psychosomatic effects out of it, I used words like:

“Fara will sure love this because she personally had a hand in it to have it prepared” Of course she was proud of it. She actually did but just stirring it when I requested for help. She is particular over the types of food taken and tries not to eat too much but I saw her eat more than she needed.

“Sam always like Abah’s cooking, he said just like Mama’s” He actually did say that complimentarily and I just repeated his words for him that left him to prove his own words. He finished up a mountain of rice, proven to be the fish was a kicker.

“I wonder why Edrin always eat a lot when Abah cooks..?!” Reverse psychology… He is a poor eater but with these words, he had to demonstrate his agreement over my statement whilst he didn’t object to it primarily, it gave a boost for him to clean up his plate.

This time around, the angels were very kind to me, the exotic dish of Fried Fish ala Turkey turned out to be good, the children loved it, they had a sumptuous dinner that night and even asked me to cook similar dish again next time.

…and I wonder whether next time I can live up to the standard or not.