“this is the last thing i will cook for you,” said my mother, before bustling into the kitchen. it was lunchtime, her final day in melbourne after five weeks of maternal duty. she had come to cook confinement food, but the first half of her time here, there was no kitchen, and the second half saw her in delicate negotiation with the boy to see who would flex whose culinary muscle on any given night. in the end, i think she only managed sesame oil chicken with ginger, stewed pork, bak kut teh, and a couple rounds of turmeric salmon. the bottle of ginger wine she’d brought with her was only half gone, the additional two bottles i received as a gift, completely untouched. her mission to brew up vast quantities of tong sam and longan tea was aborted — the vile memories of this peculiar beverage from seven years ago still lingered in the back of my throat. while still in singapore she had discussed this tea, enthusiastically. “no,” i said. so she arrived with a kilo of the herb (and four bags of dried longans). “no,” i said. so she asked again and again over the next fortnight. “no,” i said, “but are you asking until i say yes?”
“no,” she said, “but i couldn’t remember what we had decided, and i wanted to make sure.” i wonder if the wonderherb tong sam is as beneficial to short term memory as it is to milk production.
this past saturday she had planned to celebrate harlan’s month on earth with a party (when i’d told her i didn’t really have anyone to invite, she volunteered a few of her family friends and distant cousins). there would be ang ku kueh, and red eggs, and curry chicken with nasi kunyit and roti jala.
in the end, there were just red eggs, and no guests. pinkish eggs, really, when the dye didn’t quite take. the recipe called for them to be boiled for 35 to 40 minutes and then immersed in a dye bath. somehow they ended up being cooked for a good hour or so — impressively rubbery things, with thick grey circles surrounding the yolk, and blotchy patches of pink in the whites where the dye had come through the cracks, and a mildly sulfurous aroma. i’d be eating rose-tinted egg salad wraps and cold, sliced boiled eggs with matching beetroot on toast all week.
saturday evening, party plans scuttled, i took my mother to cumulus inc. for dinner, where she paid. the next morning, after she arrived back in singapore, i received a txt informing me that she’d left the roti jala mould in my kitchen. perhaps i will have curry and roti jala in my future after all.
plus i may have to make this soup again — tasty and calming enough to eat beyond the period of confinement.
marinate minced pork with cornflour, sesame oil and salt. fry julienned ginger in sesame oil, then add chopped garlic and salt. add the pork and fry until not quite browned. add water and bring to the boil. simmer. add meesua. serve with baby cos leaves (or baby spinach, in this case), and… a spoonful of ginger wine.
happy full moon, sweet baby!
9 Comments
I never realised it was confinement food – my mother makes it from time to time when we are feeling poorly.
ps) does stewed pork = vinegared pork hock with glistening fatty bits and a beyond sour gravy? Delicious.
hey shez. yeah, i think it probably isn’t confinement food — my grandmother in malaysia would have bowls of it waiting for us when we made the pilgrimage to visit during chinese new year. except her version had chicken and a whole boiled egg. i must say the pork version is much more compelling, and a welcome change from the renditions of chicken in ginger wine which make up my mum’s repertoire. her stewed pork is probably not actual confinement food either — pork shoulder stewed in ‘taiping soy sauce’, the kind eaten sandwiched with sprigs of coriander in mantou.
Oh, Harlan is such a cutie, you really have some gorgeous kids.
Hope you are getting your nutrition, from confinement food or otherwise =)
so cute! happy 1 month! my grandmother used to sneak in some kind of alcoholic chicken soup into the hospital when any of her children had a baby. I remember my mum trying to refuse when Zac was born but I think in the end she had to drink it for good health :S
This is kind of late as I’ve been behind on blog reading but Congratuluations on kid #2. Wishing you a very happy and safe Christmas
i’m intriguied by the roti jala … i wonder if it is has any resemblance to string hoppers … the mould (upon a swift google search) is different and it looks like there is coconut. looking forward to trying it some time soon!
harlan is such a sweetie pie! happy 1 month!
bel: thanks! there’s a lot of eating going on… and i’m sure there’s some nutrition to be found in aldi chocolate-covered gingerbread, no? 😉
sonya: thanks! i know — somethings just drinking the potions would be the path of least resistance. just, with the red dates, resistance took the form of an automatic gag reflex. i’d happily drink copious amounts of the soup though.
tiffany: hello! and, thank you. 🙂
deborah: hmm… i would say not too similar to string hoppers, though just as wonderful a receptacle for curry. 🙂 the roti jala has a fatter thread, and the threads are not as distinct as the hoppers. i would say it is more of a lacey pancake — with more traditional pancake ingredients like eggs and flour (and yes, coconut milk). i believe poh won over the judges on masterchef that time when she made a mould by putting holes in a coconut milk tin and serving up roti jala. sooo exotic! 🙂
The word mee sua conjures up such warmth and comfort. Yum. Happy 1 month, little one – he is very cute.
oh, hello, sweet mr. h! how have i missed all these posts all this time, i ask you.
oi i tell you — that ginger wine is really good in anything chinnis. a spoonful in fried noodles, a drizzle in stir fried veg, a glug in the hainanese chicken rice marinade… and this is me, hi, “i don’t like ginger”! when like more than half the bottle was left after mowmy flew outta town, i thought it was just going to sit around collecting dust, but we are in fact almost out.
and, god, that meesua soup… mmm. aah.