Of Fish Head and Eye Ball

Mum wanted to cook today. The whole time since she was diagnosed, we discouraged her from hassling with the pots and pans, or being too near to the fire. It is understandable that prior to this, she had control over what we eat and the kitchen was her playground. Noticing this point, I decided that I should let her cook at least once. Since last week, she had been looking for an ingredient which she couldn't point out due to her not-too-great memory so yesterday I brought her to a bigger Jusco supermarket in Midvalley Megamall and let her take her time to browse through and pick the items herself.

As it turned out, she wanted miso paste (味噌, みそ). The thick, dark miso paste is typically made of fermented soybeans, or barley and rice, with salt and kōjikin (麹菌, こうじきん) fungus. And the colour of the paste depends largely on the kind of kōjikin used. I didn't realise mum is that familiar with Japanese ingredients. And that was not all, she picked a salmon fish head as well. She said, "I'm going to cook this for you tomorrow". I'm not a fan of fish head but I nodded obligingly.

Even though Mum didn't prepare most of the dishes served for lunch today; dark soy sauce chicken and my favourite stir-fried pumpkin but she did cook one dish in particular, all by herself. Her first attempt with miso pan-fried salmon fish head. She was inspired by a cooking show she watched on TV and so she tried it out herself. It was pretty good. I didn't know salmon fish head could taste good. And strangely, the flesh in the salmon head is not the usual pinkish orange colour. Its texture and colour are just like what you find on chicken meat.

While tucking into one part of the salmon head, I discovered its huge eyeball which Mum asked me take. Never in my gastronomical history have I ever consumed a fish eyeball but Mum was persistent in asking me to eat it and so I did. Heard fish eyeballs could improve vision. Whether it's a myth or a fact, I took a bite and swallowed it in an instant. Not as bad as I imagined, but yeah, I ate it. Yay!

Mum's New Clothes

I remember the last time I REALLY stepped into the women's section of a departmental store was with Mum in Hat Yai (หาดใหญ่), Thailand at least fifteen years ago. I was a kid, still dependent on tagging along with parents on their frequent trips to the southern part Thailand every year. I never particularly fancied the waiting and standing while the women in the family shopped, or being squeezed on the cheeks by those entrepreneurial and delightful Thai women peddling clothes in bazaars.

Last week, I braved the racks and rows of women apparels in search of Mum's clothes. For years Mum has not been getting new clothes for herself. As much as I can remember, she doesn't shop much for herself. I observed over time that she only bought children clothes for relatives' kids and snacks for us. To begin with, she is a very thrifty woman. She has been frugal about spending on and for herself, and over the years, just to make sure we have enough for school and make it through college. She wore mostly the same clothes.

"Why didn't I realise this sooner?"

It was this question which propelled me to the decision of getting her some new clothes. I always wondered what kind of gift I should get her on her birthday. Usually flowers, cards and cash. It never crossed my mind about getting her clothes. So I was set on this idea and made my way to the ladies department. Picked her two shirts and one shorts based solely on my instincts, and judging from the the size she wears; the day before I went through her clothes to have a general idea of her size and the sort of cutting suits her body frame.

As I laid the clothes at the cashier counter, the two lady cashiers looked at me and smiled teasingly. I smiled back bashfully and uttered in Malay, "Untuk ibu saya". In English they mean, "For my mum".

Mum tried on the clothes and I was relieved they fit her. Most important of all, she is comfortable wearing them. I was worried my choices were too out-of-style for her. I asked her which one she likes most.

"I like them all..."

I didn't see that coming. I was expecting her to say, "I like the red one". Or of the other. "I like them all" sounded abrupt but hit me right through endearingly. That's what we would hear from a mother. That goes to say, she really appreciates everything we are doing for her, and whatever we have done so far, she is deeply touched by it.