Ascending The Ranks in Ramadhan

The last few days of Ramadhan always manage to stir up fond memories. The lead up to Eid was always exciting for me.

My dad and mom, both being among the elder siblings in their families, could almost always expect tons of guests on the first day and first weekend of Syawal. It's tradition for families to visit their elers within the first week of Syawal and the elders usually reciprocate over the remaining three weeks of Syawal. A bit of an inequity, really because the poor elders will have massive floods of people within a week while the youngins get away with trickling guests into their homes... hehehe.

Anyway, I digress. We always had fairly huge crowds at our house. Not only was there my parents' immediate family (in total, 22 siblings between them, each sibling bringing spouse and kids too) but there would be second cousins, colleagues and friends (and their families, where applicable!) to account for as well!

Consequently, there would always be a lot of prep work involved.

Especially where food was involved. Man, considering that Ramadhan is meant to be the month of abstaining from food and water, I sure do have a lot of food and kitchen-related memories!!

I remember Dad would come staggering home with massive plastic bags full of meat, chicken and vegetables. He would also buy canned soft drinks by the palettes. At least two trays (or 48 cans) of soft drinks. And the cannisters of cookies, boxes of kuih lapis and tupperwares of savouries (rendang and ketupat usually, if we were lucky, sometimes ayam masak merah) would come trickling in and and start taking up residence in our fridge.

And the last few days of Ramadhan would be filled with lots of time in the kitchen.

And boy was there barely enough time to get anything done.

Every single free surface was utilised as we multi-tasked all types of prepwork in the lead up to the feast on Hari Raya. We would sit at the dining table, churning out tray upon tray of cookies and cakes as Hari Raya songs played in the background. And as we are all aware, I am far from religious but I love hearing the (omg I can't even think of the proper name now) recitations on the radio as well - that would be the highlight of the eve of Eid as I struggled to stay awake while helping mum and sis in the kitchen.

A lot of the time, I think that all that time in the kitchen is what probably contributed to my appreciation of the cooking process and really, my appreciation of food. My culinary self was raised in the Ramadhan Kitchen.

Indeed, I saw the pre-Eid rush as a yearly assessment of my culinary skills.

With all the food prep to do, no one was spared from the cooking process. We needed all the help we could get. On every open house day, I would be running ragged between topping up drinks, making sure there were enough cookies and clearing tables and washing dishes so that the next lot of waiting guests could move on from tidbits in the living room to a proper meal in the dining area (which normally accomodates 6 but in times of need, we usually squeeze in another 2-4 chairs where we can). And this would go on all day. So you can imagine just how much food was needed to feed the masses.

Being the youngest in the family, I was always tasked with the simple "unfuckup-able" jobs. Especially when I first started helping out as a kid. My initial tasks included:

• playing fridge tetris aka trying to stuff as many cans of soft drink into the fridge
• ice cube inventory and constantly making trays of ice
• getting bowls from the cupboard
• pounding ingredients in the mortar and pestle
• putting cherries on top of the cookies

And I would watch, almost enviously, as mum and sis got to do real jobs. Like slicing shallots (because I was deemed incapable of slicing them finely enough), cutting up the delicate tofu and frying the various bits and pieces. Even brushing egg yolk on the cookies was considered a more intermediate task because kiddie fingers tend to squish cookies and slop too egg yolk much on - and I suspect one of my mum's bugbears was having overly eggy brown cookies.

But as the years went by, I got "promoted" to doing the more technical tasks. Mum was still commander in chief of the kitchen (and she still is) but as the years went by, I was trusted to do more things.

Such as the tricky task of filling the mini cupcake liners with walnut cake batter. Which sounds simple enough. But then you can't overfill or you'll have exploded mini muffins. And you have to keep the sides of the liner as clean as possible so that the smudge of batter (which would cook to a crisp before the rest of the cake) wouldn't form a barrier for the cake to rise.

And in the later years, I was even allowed to help shape my mum's famous cashew nut cookies. Famous not just because of their taste. But because of the unique shape my mum makes them in.

Now usually when you think cashew nut cookies, you imagine them as being round cookies adorned with cashew nuts on top.

But of course, mum being mum... she has to be different.

She doesn't make star shaped cookies. She doesn't use cookie cutters. She doesn't go crazy decorating the entire cookie with cashew nuts.

Nope. My mum hand-shapes her cookies so that they look like the cashew fruit. So imagine a stylised, curvy pear shape, with a half cashew sticking out at the bottom and a single clove at the top for the stem.

No wait. Have some visuals.

Yes, it was and still is an absolute bitch to make. Namely because so many things can go wrong.

You have to work fast because otherwise (I find anyway) the mixture gets crumbly - probably because the butter from the cookies gets absorbed by your skin. Probably.

And having a time limit is BAD because as you can imagine, this unique shape is not exactly easy to replicate. Not only is it a matter of getting it looking "sexy", as mum calls it, but that bottom bit has to be made sturdy enough so that you can stick that half cashew piece in there without tearing that bottom bit of cookie or exposing the cashew nut. Because if you do, not only do you have to start over but you'll also have to deal with previously mentioned crumbly batter.

So being able to make or at least be allowed to have a go at making the cashew nut cookies was what I always considered to be the absolute pinnacle of culinary finesse during Ramadhan. Which is why I was always so happy to give it a go whenever I was asked to shape the cookies because even if I didn't get it anywhere near right, it made me feel like I was finally part of a sorority of chefs. So to speak.

What with us living in Perth right now, we don't really celebrate Hari Raya anymore. Well I lie, my mum still goes visiting with her friends but we don't have the traditional open house any more. So unless I specifically request for certain foods, our kitchen is not as harried as it usually would be in the lead up to Eid.

Which is kind of sad because not only do you miss out on the fun (albeit exhausting!) bit of Hari Raya but there's no bonding over trays of cookie dough while the scent of vanilla of cloves wafts in the air around you. Crazily enough, I miss it even though I would almost always end up half asleep, pinch of quaker oat cookie dough in hand. Good times.

Yes, it was a lot of work and mum would always be telling me how to do things in the background but there was always a sense of accomplishment when the finished product came out beautifully. And when you saw your guests enjoy every mouthful of their meals.

(Cue impressed elder types going, "wah, Nadia dah boleh kahwin nih!" aka "Wow, Nadia can get married now!". Yep. Apparently the only criteria for marriage suitability is the fact that you can cook.)

So while I am currently complaining of all the running around and elbow grease that was yesterday... I really did enjoy it. It triggered the surge of memories which made for a lovely distraction as I went about my work.

I had a pile of shallots to slice yesterday and even though the sulphur fumes stung my eyes something cruel, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Not a word was said about the thickness of my slices. :)

Yea, I've come a long way.

Even if I STILL can't get them cashew nut cookies right.

(Mine is the skinny one in the middle and the one to the left of that)

Although that said, I did manage to nearly nail them in the end. Mum was kind enough to say that I had "graduated" in cashew nut cookie making.

Which means a lot coming from a typically anal, food-oriented Malay makcik like her.

It means a lot as well because mum and I don't have the best of relationships. As such, receiving such genuine encouragement and praise from her was really the highlight of my sleep-deprived night. I think we bonded last night and I think it's a step to a better mother-daughter relationship.

Ahh... another Ramadhan memory for the history books, I think. :)