Stuffed mushrooms

When I was growing up, I had always craved for mushrooms. For some reason, the only mushrooms I encountered (mostly in my mom's cooking) came in small portions; they were minor accompaniments to chicken or beef in soups or to veges in stir fries. These little bites never satisfied my craving and I bugged my mom to try an all-mushroom dish. (I later discovered that there is a myriad of all-mushroom dishes in the Malay cuisine. None of them, however, are part of parents' native culinary culture.)

One day, my mom finally acquiesced. I distinctively remember looking at the bag of mushrooms sitting on the kitchen counter; they looked like freshly-mined gold. My mom sliced and sauteed them with some garlic and oyster sauce. I remember spooning the mushrooms onto my steaming hot white rice. I remember the taste of the oyster sauce but what catapulted me to ecstacy was the texture; the mushroom is disctinctively rubbery, spongy and chewy at the same time. It was heaven.

Everyone else in my family weren't too keen on the dish so there was a lot left over (which probably explains why my mom rarely makes an all-mushroom dish). I took the liberty of finishing it, literally licking the bowl clean. It's not a pretty picture but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

Later, when my family was settling down to an after-lunch siesta, I started feeling nauseaus. I started getting sudden bouts of light-headedness. Then, before I could even tell myself to start running, I was running to the bathroom. What happened next was, again, not a pretty picture. Suffice it to say that I developed a, what I like to call, psychological allergy to mushrooms.

After that incident, even the sight of mushrooms made me nauseaus. I would get a tingling sensation on the bridge of my nose and my throat would well up with imaginary bile. This went on for several years until I was in junior year at UTM. I had friends who were big fans of mushrooms so I started eating them again in small portions, making small increments until I finally graduated to all-mushroom dishes.

Today, I had that craving for mushrooms once more so I made this and refrained from overdosing again.

Of Dreams and Yearnings

i was at a farmer's market pushing an empty shopping cart. that must be from Food Inc. The producers recommended that we shop at local farmer's markets rather than at large supermarket chains.

there were samples for tasting in the bread aisles. i tried the babka and it was mildly sweet. that must be from looking through the bread section in McCall's Cooking School manual before i went to bed.

i looked in all the bread bins but there were no babkas left. somebody said they must be sold out. that must be from work. anything that goes on sale on friday is sold out by sunday.

someone came up to me from behind and grasped my shoulders. i didn't know who it was but i let her hug me and touch her cheek to mine. i felt the familiar softness of my mom's skin. i smelled the gentle perfume of her night time lotion. i felt my chest squeezed by how much i miss her. this must be from reading a text message from her the day before.

i don't know who this person is but she feels just like Mama so i let her hold me.

i turned around and it was her. Mama. between sobs and tears she tells me that everyone is back. we walk arm in arm down the street. my twenty-nine year old sister at age twenty came towards us. her husband and daughter doesn't exist and her cheeks had the blush that only innocence can give.

the men of our family waited by the car. it's a familiar scene. it's one of those nights when we're just returning from a special dinner somewhere. everybody is satiated and longing for bed but reluctant to bring the evening to an end. we jostle into the backseat, hear the engine hum to life and doze to my parents' quite conversation on the drive home.

this distant memory of a childhood ritual somehow made it into my dream last night.