At a cousin's wedding in August, my grandmother and I were seated at the same table as my cousin's other relatives. These relatives have pretty much known me since forever and I'm still in awe of the fact that their eldest children are about to graduate from college when I still think of them as being little toddlers. Two of kids at our table are brothers with a bit of an age difference, with the younger brother not in his teens yet. The elder brother is quite affectionate towards the younger brother, and is very patient. In fact, my husband and I made a note of how wonderful it was to see that between siblings.
The elder one is about to graduate from college and actually presents himself very well. A very good-looking young man who carries himself very well around others, Joe and I felt very sure that he was going to do well in whatever he wanted to do with the rest of his life. My grandmother also felt the same way and started a conversation with the young man. She asked about his school, what he was studying, and what he wanted to do. She praised him for being so loving and attentive to his younger brother and also praised him for being such a good son. She of course then asked him if he had a girlfriend and if he didn't, to not worry because she knew of a few very available young women back in Singapore and Malaysia. He replied very courteously that he wasn't attached to anyone.
"Well then you shouldn't wear that earring, young man," she declared (maybe a little too loudly), referring to the little stud he had in his earlobe. "Wearing an earring only shows that you're a troublemaker. It shows that you have no respect for other people. You should take that off!"
Mortified, I tried to stop my grandmother from berating the poor young man in front of his parents but it was like trying to stop a runaway locomotive. I quickly apologized to my poor young cousin (because technically, he IS my cousin even if the only way we're related is through our cousin the groom) for the fact that my grandmother speaks without a filter. I then made a mental note to NOT give my grandmother any more wine (she had 1/4 glass of white wine) at parties. By the way, have I mentioned that the happier my grandmother is the louder her voice gets? Rest assured, she was quite the happy great-grandmother who was only made happier with a little bit of alcohol. I definitely caught glances made in our direction by guests seated at other tables several tables away.
It was definitely during that time when I wished I was a part of the Southwest Airlines commercial for "Want to get away?". Where's my "ding", dammit???
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
It's all about presentation...
I have to confess... I love food. I love the smells of food. I love the taste of food. I just love the very look of food. Which makes it all the harder for me to be the kind of foodie I want to be (sigh... I will sadly never be an Iron Chef judge) because of my allergy to certain foods, though this actually makes my husband quite happy on account of him being able to eat more of what I can't and won't eat (I've only lately started eating cilantro again and it's barely... LONG story there!).
I've never quite possessed the taste buds necessary to be a badass chef, nor have I the skills (though I'm very proud that I made little flowers out of carrot slices for a particular clay pot once). Suffice it to say that the food I cook is definitely edible and considering I haven't had much time to really indulge in fine cooking, the fact that I can put anything together at all has been a feat in itself. Fortunately for me, my grandmother being the awesome cook that she is, gave me a great lesson in cooking. I had made dinner one night in an attempt to NOT consume the usual grandmother-fare (see "Hazards of Salad") which was very simple: steamed rice, steamed chinese sausage, steamed eggs, and stir-fried cabbage with dried shrimp. Granted, two out of three were steamed and didn't really require any extra effort on my part but I DID cook the cabbage (stir-fried with some garlic and a little bit of chicken broth)! In fact, my husband and I agreed over dinner that night how nice it was to have a simple dinner and how refreshing it was to eat a plain vegetable dish. I had made quite a bit of it that night and was, in fact, the only thing remaining as leftovers.
The next night, I had come home a bit later than usual and even though I had told my grandmother that I would cook dinner, I had returned to find dinner already made. One of the items I saw cooked and ready to eat was my leftover cabbage, only it wasn't really my leftover cabbage. It resembled my simple stir-fried cabbage dish of the night before except that this one seemed to have huge chunks of chicken in it along with a visible layer of oil coating just about every nook and cranny.
"Grandma, did you recook my cabbage?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Yes, I added some chicken!" She replied happily.
"Why did you add the chicken?"
"So the dish will look prettier!"
So there you have it.
I've never quite possessed the taste buds necessary to be a badass chef, nor have I the skills (though I'm very proud that I made little flowers out of carrot slices for a particular clay pot once). Suffice it to say that the food I cook is definitely edible and considering I haven't had much time to really indulge in fine cooking, the fact that I can put anything together at all has been a feat in itself. Fortunately for me, my grandmother being the awesome cook that she is, gave me a great lesson in cooking. I had made dinner one night in an attempt to NOT consume the usual grandmother-fare (see "Hazards of Salad") which was very simple: steamed rice, steamed chinese sausage, steamed eggs, and stir-fried cabbage with dried shrimp. Granted, two out of three were steamed and didn't really require any extra effort on my part but I DID cook the cabbage (stir-fried with some garlic and a little bit of chicken broth)! In fact, my husband and I agreed over dinner that night how nice it was to have a simple dinner and how refreshing it was to eat a plain vegetable dish. I had made quite a bit of it that night and was, in fact, the only thing remaining as leftovers.
The next night, I had come home a bit later than usual and even though I had told my grandmother that I would cook dinner, I had returned to find dinner already made. One of the items I saw cooked and ready to eat was my leftover cabbage, only it wasn't really my leftover cabbage. It resembled my simple stir-fried cabbage dish of the night before except that this one seemed to have huge chunks of chicken in it along with a visible layer of oil coating just about every nook and cranny.
"Grandma, did you recook my cabbage?" I asked rather incredulously.
"Yes, I added some chicken!" She replied happily.
"Why did you add the chicken?"
"So the dish will look prettier!"
So there you have it.
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