Ami's Special

WARGHHHHHHH!!!!!
Oh Tuhan!

I stumbled out of my Protong upon reaching home after a trip to Bangi, and immediately kissed the paved entrance to my house. Such relief! I couldn't bear another minute of Miley Cyrus twanging "I Got Nerve", "Fly on the Wall" and her other techno-pop repetitive junk anymore. I had two whole hours of her. Return ticket through hell, locked in an enclosed space called Claustrophobia on the highway, with that little....ermmm...pop teen-queen blasting from the dashboard speakers right into my pounding brain through my battered ears as my short, long and medium-sighted eyes desperately tried to make out the cars in front of me in the driving rain because the extremely clever drivers wanted to save on batteries and the environment, too and didn't turn on their lights. Malaysians are a very, very concerned lot, especially where it only concerns them.

Sakinah strode into the house in a huff, clearly peeved that I didn't find Miley's CD a brilliant piece of musical accomplishment and a gift to teenkind as she did.

That, my baby, is an understatement.

I would rather have Lou Reed sing about "Heroin" to me in that unique slightly off-key voice, over and over. Even the heroin-needled (riddled) Nico, singing in her ghostly foghorn of a heroin-addled voice, pupils dilated, in the creepy underground clubs, I can take.

But Miley, oh Tuhan...help me! She even butchered Cyndi Lauper's classic "Girls Wanna Have Fun"...

Rain. It's raining hard this evening, as I'm back in the comfort of my bedroom writing this piece (of another self revelation for the whole world). Ah...can't wait to snuggle up under the covers and watch "Blow" (no its not a porno flick) which I got from a Chinese pirate in Seri Kembangan who is singlehandedly responsible for Hollywood's dwindling fortunes (recommended by a Jerome Bixby fan), who happens to carry a whole range of foreign movies too, from Turkish to Kiwi (can't wait to get Black Sheep next, a Kiwi horror-comedy about, well... killer sheep in New Zealand)

We, the girls and I, started the day with breakfast at the swanky NZ mamak restaurant opposite KLCC. The same NZ chain which I used to go to in Wangsa Maju, before I found the guy who usually makes the teh tarik coming out of the toilet, zipping his fly and proceeding directly to make my order. Without washing anything. Even his hands.

This swanky branch has...ambience. But has retained the same old familiarity, ie the same bevy of "straight off the ship from India" workers...straight off the ship and into the kitchen. No crash course in hygiene, whatsoever...but I had no choice, coz I needed my rava tosei, and the one at NZ had cracked peppers in it. Maybe the peppers would kill the fecal bacteria, I surmised...perking up immediately, having learnt the power of mind over fecal matter from a hot rocket scientist aka hypnotherapist aka Professor Serbatau.

When it came, it was burnt - to a crisp. I said, "mamak, saya minta tosei, bukan arang..." and he smilingly proceeded to make another. I do hope his smile didn't turn into a devious grin as he picked his nose and added some extra condiments to my new order...I couldn't see. But like they say, what you don't see doesn't hurt you.

Alternatively, what you don't see could REALLY hurt you, as was evidenced by the Alam Flora lorry which came out of nowhere in front of me, right beside the Ampang cemetery, before I could turn into the NZ restaurant, causing me to swerve into oncoming traffic and the oncoming car to swerve elsewhere. Thank Tuhan, it was a relatively traffic-free morning. I could have been buried with my kids at that same Ampang cemetery, leaving me in my grave, kempunan for that dubious rava tosei. Adding to my various other kempunans...like for that Aston, going on umrah, the haj and, and...well, some things are better not said. I'll take that to the grave.

Anyways, back to the tosei, laughing and enjoying the morning with my kids, I was hit by that sudden feeling of melancholia. Something was missing from this picture. And the tears welled up unannounced (tears which I tried to fight, considering how inane and obscene the reason seemed, given the real sufferings of people elsewhere halfway across the world), which I quickly mopped up before they fell onto my now perfect rava tosei, thus rendering it soggy and forcing me to call for a new order. As I turned away to the side, to avoid the eyes of the hopeful mamak waiter (whom I had again tortured to reheat my already tepid tea...some of the mamak mistake my repeated calls to them to fix my orders as signals of a blossoming romance), Maryam looked at me and sighed...

"Awww...Umi, why are you crying again?" she looked at me with her usual resigned, lopsided smile.

"Tak lah..mamak tu letak banyak sangat pepper...ni mesti dia nak kenakan Umi balik, asyik complain jer...haha," I replied.

" Don't lie lah. Umi, can I tell you a secret?" she continued.

She beckoned me to come closer and whispered, "This hurts me very much, but because I love you....you can find someone else, ok?" smiling shyly in the inimitable way only she can.

Kids. Such wise, selfless, perceptive beings.

Adults. Foolish, selfish, clueless, self-absorbed.

I wish...it were that easy, Maryam. It isn't.

Someone else. Like you can dip into a bowl of potentials and choose the lucky (or unlucky) one.

Anyway. This piece was to be about Ami's (my mom) special. Sitting here back home, reminiscing about my visit with her, I thought about all her wonderful dishes she used to make when she was well. She had like three cupboards full of recipes, which she bought, cut out from magazines or the papers, or transcribed carefully from the old radio shows.

My favorite, and the family Eid favorite, amongst her other luscious spreads is the Chicken Beehoon Briyani.

Ami's Chicken Beehoon Briyani
(I never cook to precise measurements, unless its cakes or bread, so the amount of onions and etc are according to taste)

2 packets of beehoon broken to pieces, soaked in water with a pinch of tumeric powder (and/or saffron strands),

11/2 chicken cut into small pieces, marinated with a handful of ground green chillies, one cup of ground almonds and the juice of two limes for a couple of hours,

1 tablespoon each of kas-kas, ketumbar, jintan manis, jintan putih, white pepper, all ground together, (or more, depending on your taste)

a few cloves, cardamons, star anise and a piece of cinnamon

a can of evaporated milk

a bunch each of daun ketumbar and daun pudina, chopped finely

2 large onions, a few cloves of garlic, and some ginger, ground together

Fry the ground onions and spices till fragrant.
Add the marinated chicken and the remaining marinade. Fry till the chicken has absorbed the spices. Then pour in the milk and leave the chicken to cook thoroughly on a low fire. Make sure to keep stirring often lest the milk gets burnt. When nearly dry and the chicken cooked, add the drained, softened beehoon and chopped mint and coriander (pudina and ketumbar) and salt to taste.

Keep turning the beehoon over a low fire until it is well combined with the chicken and spices, and dry.

Takes a while. Smells absolutely divine.

When its done,

Just eatlah.

Tunggu apa lagi!