I am now my mum’s personal sous chef. Who would have thought? Certainly, not my mum. Not me. Not my husband. He still laughs at my current thrust-upon role. He finds the circumstance-driven transformation rather ironic.

I am not at all keen on cooking, especially the savoury stuff. I even have a plaque on my kitchen wall that reads, “I only have a kitchen because it came with the house”. I kid you not when I say I have many sleepless nights thinking of what to cook for my mum. I don’t have a ready repository of recipes. My go-to is Google and YouTube. I look for easy and minimalist Indian, Western and Malaysian recipes.  Why? I cannot remember ingredients or instructions. Long lists of ingredients scare me. I don’t have the natural instincts to mix and match spices, balance flavours and whatever else experienced cooks do in the kitchen to produce delicious meals. I am a little half-baked. I wing it a lot of the times. But I do try my best to get it as close to edible as possible.

To be fair, my dear old mum is a relatively easy customer, in some ways. She knows I don’t enjoy cooking. She’d rather I didn’t. Too much time. Too much effort. Too many tears chopping onions. In fact, she tells me she’s quite happy to have Massimo wholemeal bread every day. Or as she calls it ‘Bengali bread.’ She has ‘Bengali’ bread many ways. Cheese on toast in her toaster or waffle maker. But only with Bega or Mother’s Choice sliced cheese or Laughing Cow’s cream cheese. She will not indulge regardless of my assurance that these brands are reasonably priced and/or are perennially on promotions. No more than one sliced cheese or unbelievably half a triangle of a cream cheese for every two pieces of bread. Apparently, this is to prevent cheese from escaping – bursting at the seams – and messing up her toaster and waffle maker. Suspect to say the least.

The other way is she would fold the bread in half and dunk it plain in Milo – her preferred chocolate beverage. Or as she calls it ‘chicha.’  A week ago, she said she would like, from now on, to have a large Massimo sandwich loaf in place of the usual medium. She then gleefully announced that she could quite happily have ‘Bengali’ bread any time, any day. She further explained that from the large loaf she will dunk two slices in milk for breakfast.  Hmm… Despite my constant nagging that she should have something more substantial for breakfast like cereal, bread and/or fruits, she has steadfastly drunk just milk. Finally, dunked soft bread that she can chew/swallow minus her dentures. For some reason, her morning routine does not include wearing dentures.

Her other staple that she genuinely enjoys is cream crackers. Not Hup Seng’s. Jacob’s original cream crackers. Being old school, her first and only concern is price. She used to like them in a tin because she thought she was getting value for money. After finding the biscuits were not filled to the brim (they had probably settled), she was convinced there was pilfering going on. How I asked? She didn’t know how but it didn’t matter. No more tins. It’s still Jacob’s but cream crackers in value packs. Another of her favourites is McVitie’s original digestive biscuits. The one that is used as a base in cheesecake. She prefers plain, oops I meant original, to the yummier milk chocolate, dark chocolate and classic caramel flavours. The fourth is Muncy’s Hazelnut Oat Crunch. Not Chocolate Crunch. She has them for tea, occasionally. Again, she dunks or ‘chicha’ these biscuits in Milo. 

The fifth staple is Anzen organic rolled regular oats. Not instant rolled oats. Not oatmeal from any other brand. Oats makes a religious appearance for lunch and dinner every Monday, and sometimes on Friday.  My mum’s two official vegetarian days. Her other designated vegetarian days depend on festivals and/or where the Moon is situated during the month.

While my mum is content with her staples 24×7, me not so much. At her age, she needs a variety of nutritious meals. Cooking for her since last March when the first Movement Control Order (MCO) was imposed, I’ve learnt that she favours savoury meals. With a bit of bite and more than a helping of salt. Nothing sweet. Nary a sweet tooth. Technically, that’s incorrect as my mum wears dentures (except early in the morning). Her stash of chocolate and chocolate coated biscuits (that I buy for her) are left in the fridge, and forgotten. Gladly, I am the beneficiary. Savoury meals in exchange for sweet desserts. More than a fair trade.