Monday, June 11, 2007

A Puffy Story

I hate deciding what to eat.

I'm serious. I hate it. When it's lunch time at the office, I hate the part when everyone's asking everyone "What shall we eat?" I usually tell them to decide because I'm not fussy with food.

The man is hopeless at deciding where to eat as well. Despite our growling stomachs, we can still sit on the couch undecided, especially when Jeevan / Colette / Jamie is on. We'll just sit there lah, until we cannot tahan the hunger anymore... then we'll pop over to the usual Chinese shop. So much for trying to find some place new to eat.

I'm back at my parents' for a couple of days. Whatever the time of the year, coming back home is always a cause for celebration because let's face it, no one cooks better than your own mother. Sure, Jamie Oliver is cute and all, but I bet he can't whip up a mean curry fish head dish the way my mom does it.

And what's good about being back home is that, mom doesn't ask me what I want to eat. I mean, she doesn't ask an open-ended question. Instead, she'll ask "Do you want to eat curry fish head / grilled chicken / (insert dish name here)?"

See how much easier life is back at home?

Mom made curry puffs yesterday. I joined in the fun. Her curry puffs have been notoriously good for as long as I can remember. We made everything from scratch - right from kneading the dough and dicing the potatos and ingredients which will be the filling for the puffs.

So there we were, the rain was lashing down hard yesterday afternoon, and mother and daughter in the kitchen busy making puffs. It was a moment to revel in. Everytime I get some spicy potato on my fingers while trying to seal the puff, I lick it off, which is much to mom's dislike. "Ish, so dirty!" she will say.

After about an hour, and 30 puffs all made to perfection, we immediately fried a couple. Best to eat it fresh you know. With the remaining dough, mom made something that looked like a cinnamon roll, while I attempted to make a blob of shit.

The curry puff was like how it always has been. The pastry flaky and just right - not too thick, not too thin. The filling was spicy and aromatic. And when you bite into it, the smoke rises from the hot filling, and then we have to jump about for a while with our mouths open because we didn't allow the puffs to cool first.

And somehow, my blob of shit didn't look quite like shit after frying it.

Is it just me, or does it look like a snake who is all smiley and with mata sepet?

Posted by Doreen at 11:11 am