Savouring mommy moments: cooking

Monday, 22 October 2012

Inspiring passion in my child (to combat the ''I'm bored'' syndrome)

On Saturday morning while the kids were in karate classes, Mo and I were discussing Shakeel (13)'s recent lack of passion for anything (other than his Playstation). He had loved hand-rearing his birds, but after two of them died recently, he seems to be afraid to get to close to the others, so tries to remain uninvolved.

But then I remembered the times he'd google his favourite cake recipes and bake them. Or invent food recipes to serve his dad and me on special days (like our birthdays, Mothers and Fathers Day). So I decided to rope him into cooking duties since he seems to show both the interest in and flair for cooking and baking.

My mum, sis-in-law, brothers and their kids were coming for supper on Saturday night and I had been planning to serve butter chicken. Shakeel was so excited when I told him that he'd be making supper. But then, as I should have anticipated, came ten year old Tharaa 's whiny accusation, '' Mommy, you just want to spend time with Shakeel. You don't care about me. Why can't I help?''

I considered it for a moment. I had really wanted Shakeel to complete the dish by himself from start to finish. I'd wanted him to experience that sense of accomplishment, which would hopefully further fuel his passion for cooking. So, cleverly I suggested that she make any dessert of her choice.

Or, I'd only thought that I was being clever, for immediately upon hearing that her sister had been commissioned to bake a chocolate cake for dessert, Nuha (7) started to grumble, '' What about me? Why can't I help? Why must I always spend time with boring old Aisha (2) so that the rest of you can have fun? It's not fair!''

Shakeel must have sensed my exasperation and probably fearing that I was about to call everything off and cook supper myself, he exclaimed excitedly, '' You should make the rice! I don't have time to make rice and it is the most important part of the meal''. Clever boy.

With a feeling of importance and purpose, Nuha headed to fetch a chair to get the tub of Basmati rice from the top shelf. When - yes, you guessed it - we heard another (more terrifying) nagging voice - that of Aisha (2), '' I want to help! I want to help!''

Oh crap. The involvement of our drama/tantrum queen had the potential to ruin our plans before we even got started. Luckily the kids jumped to the rescue by fetching the flour.

''Yay, I make roti!'' she squealed gleefully. That simply meant that she wanted to mess with flour and water. But, since everything seemed to be riding on her non-interference and compliance, I happily allowed it.

I assisted Shakeel with some of the cooking, simply because I do not work from a recipe, which meant that I guided him with instructions like '' Add a little bit of this'' or '' a dash of that''.

With Tharaa, I oversaw the melting of the chocolate for the ganache - this simply to avoid her from devouring all the chocolate before it reached the cake.

Nuha obviously needed me to handle the boiling water for the rice. Surprisingly, she remembered the proportions of water:rice: salt from all the times I had issued the instructions to Elizabeth, the domestic worker.

The only one who proceeded from start to finish without my help, was Aisha. Her 'dish' was perfect - a perfect mess. She delighted in the sticky mess she'd created and earnestly stirred and prodded the gooey dough.

The kids' meal was hugely successful. Shakeel's butter chicken was creamy; flavoured with a perfect balance of spiciness and tomato. Tharaa's chocolate cake slab - which was filled with fresh cream in the centre and topped with a chocolate ganache - was light and moist. Nuha's rice was light and fluffy, much to my mother's excitement, since my mum always complains that her own rice is too sticky. Aisha's ''roti'' served its purpose, i.e. it kept her occupied and out of the way so that the rest of them could get on with their culinary masterpieces. Later she and my little nephew delighted in messing her ''roti'' all over their hands and clothes.

Although I had a chest pain after the entire experience (yelling instructions and warnings while trying to prevent dishes from splattering all over the floor, is anxious work), I will definitely do it again. Maybe not soon - I first need the chest pain to subside before my next attempt at hosting Masterchef.

But I shall persevere in the hopes that their success could spell the end of my time in front of the stove. One can but hope.

　

　

Monday, 20 August 2012

Love and laughter with family (on Eid ul Fitr 2012)

So Eid ul Fitr 2012 has come and gone. After an exhausting few days of cooking, baking and decorating; mixing and matching of outfits and trying to obtain some kind of compromise between my outdated fashion sense and the kids' more adventurous ideas, life is returning to some measure of normalcy.

I must say that the constant hustle and bustle, though exhausting, was so rewarding and totally worth it.

On Friday night I baked the Eat-sum-mor biscuits, which turned out delightfully due to their melt-in-mouth lightness. On Saturday I made the romany creams, chocolate eclairs and a firm favourite of Mo's family - caramel, banana and nestle cream on a shortcrust base. Mo's mum sent chocolate cupcakes, date and walnut cake, snowballs and some savouries.

I also spent the night before Eid making the curry base for the prawn and crayfish curry so as to avoid having to rush on the day. Quite on the last minute, I remembered to defrost the leg of lamb to marinate the night before so that I could just pop it into the oven on Eid morning.

Just before midnight on Saturday night it became clear that I was falling behind, so Mo helped me by making the peppermint crisp pudding, as well as dipping the eclairs into and filling the biscuits with melted chocolate.

My 2 helpers

On Eid day we had a lovely breakfast after mosque (it was meant to happen before mosque, but we had been running late). We took the opportunity to have (what turned out to be a very emotional) talk with the kids about the significance of the day and what the end of Ramadan signified.

Thanks to Elizabeth, our domestic worker, who hung curtains, washed couch covers and windows, and also scrubbed grubby paw prints and kiddies' artwork from walls, the dining room looked lovely. Unfortunately, though, you will just have to take my word for it, since I was much too busy running around to take pictures.

This year we popped around by my extended family (from my mum's side) first. As a result I was filled with joy at having had the opportunity to sit down and talk to my aunts and actually wished my Uncle for Eid (I'm ashamed to say that this was the first time in years that I'd done this). We fetched my mum to have lunch at our place. I must say that I returned home feeling really blessed at having had the opportunity to share so much love with the wonderful inspiring (older) members of my mum's family.

After lunch we enjoyed a rowdy jovial visit with my dad's family at my aunt's place (where I was also lucky enough to run into my paternal uncles and their families. I would have loved to stay longer, but we had to rush off to meet with Mo's family.

I must say that this was by far the most joyful and meaningful Eid I've had in a very long time. Although I did not get to capture most of this memorable day in pictures, I am sure that the warmth of these memories will remain with us for a long time to come.

My girls