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Yellow Hedges

I like everything about winter here in Moscow except for those yellow stains around trees, poles and hedgerows. The yellow stains are really yellow. So yellow that I am convinced dogs do not drink enough water in winter. Anyway, I would like to strongly urge dog-owners to bring a shovel with them when they walk their canine companions. Poop-scooping alone is not enough. Those yellow stains need to be concealed as much as concealing those lines under their eyes. The dog-owners’ eyes, that is. And perhaps Huggies should come up with disposable diapers for dogs and call them Doggies, Dooggies or Duggies. Or something!

 

 

 

 

Abang Putin! Cepatlah sikit bang! Do lah something. Orang tak tahan dah ni. Eeeeee geliii! Tak kuaserrr! Hannnchenggg!

 

 

 

 

Postlude:

Thanks to Overstated for the picture of Snow Pee. Rest assured, I would walk 5 to 10 meters away from the yellow stains and there is just no way I would stop to take photos of ’em! Peeeyyyeeewww!

 

Black Magic

Of all the fresh vegetables that look fresh, aubergines or eggplants always look the freshest in my eyes. I am almost always drawn to them when I do grocery shopping but I am almost always drawn away again as I have not many ideas of what to do with them. I have cooked them in various curries, I’ve seen Bibik stir-frying them with tomato ketchup and sweet chili sauce, I still ooh’ed and aah’ed about the Aubergine Cooked with Shrimp Paste dish I had at Aroi Dee (Palm Garden IOI) on KaCher’s birthday lunch last year, and I have also tried them plainly blanched and eaten with sambal. But the most I would cook this vegetable is probably once a year. That’s it. I am not worried though, they don’t hatch.

“Oval or elongated oval-shaped and black-skinned cultivars include Harris Special Hibush, Burpee Hybrid, Black Magic, Classic, Dusky, and Black Beauty.” (Wikipedia: Eggplant). Tale be told, eggplants were among witches’ favorite vegetables as they were believed to protect one witch against another’s spell. I know all this, indeed. I am a witch and I spell well. Thanks Spellchecker!

This witch of yours, nevertheless, went and got herself not one – greedy ole witch – but two big Black Magic eggplants last week. Doubled the greed as I had no idea what to make out of them when my hands just swept the two purple bells into my broom-bag. Today, a week later, looking as fresh as I first laid my eyes on ’em… the aubergines finally came out of the fridge and into my oven as Crabbergines, an addition to Enida’s own Krazy Lazy Recipes. True to its name, the two main features of this recipe are crab and aubergine.

They look like chocolate chips cookies, don’t they? Me Monchies were ecstatic when they thought they were getting cookies for lunch! Muahahahahaha! There is no way witchy Mommy would ever in a million witchy years be that fun and cool. Please be informed that me Monchies are big fans of neither aubergine nor crab meat. But it turned out to be a hit finger-food as they taste pretty much like fishsticks or fish fingers.

For a krazy lazy witch Mommy like me, deep-frying is a hard work. So instead of deep or pan frying these mini patties or nuggets, I baked them. There are only two main ingredients: crab meat and aubergines. Or did I write that already?

I found this ‘sausage’ of crabsticks at Aliye Perusa today which I thought was a very good idea (when sliced – as in the picture below – it is ready for a crab burger).

I dumped both the eggplant and crab meat into the food-processor to have them lightly ground adding 1 egg, 4 tablespoons of all-purpose flour, a pinch of salt, and 2 tablespoons of olive oil in the process. I then rolled the mixture into a ping-pong ball at a time and flattened each on a baking sheet lined with a baking paper. I then dumped the patties into the oven to bake for 45 minutes at 180°C. I truly enjoyed today’s dumping activities. La didi didi, life is good… la dida dida, lazy mood.

The black pieces are the skin as I purposely threw the eggplant into the food processor unpeeled (for fiber). The aubergine ‘meat’ became soft when cooked, the skin turned out thin and not chewy at all. Tastewise… they actually reminded me of the Thai Fish Cake appetizers I used to devour at the restaurant right across from Ace Hardware Store, Ikano Power Center, called Absolute Thai(?) They are also good at “Basil”, a Thai place in Bangsar Village where my best friend and I had lunch  not very very very long long long ago. (Chin, it’s not the antarabangsat one loh!)

Honestly, I was very tempted to put some megahot chilies in the mix while it was processing. But I then realized that it was no fun watching a husband and two monchies smoking away at the dining table from the heat. The fire extinguisher would be too much of an effort and it would be way too messy for my own good. It was supposed to be an easy-n-lazy day anyway. So, I settled with Thai Chili Sauce dip which had no trace of heat whatsochiliever. We had Crabbergines with some leftover Egg Noodles in Beef Soup for lunch.

So there went my Crabby Krazy Lazy Saturday!

This Big

The big thing about big schools such as the one my Dara Monchy – Kitreena – goes to, is that it goes big on everything. Fees, definitely. I fell off my toilet seat when I found out that to secure a placement for a child costs US$50,000! Yes, I then got up and sat myself properly on the toilet seat to pass my motion and emotion as a reaction to this knowledge! I am not sure if that US$50,000 is refundable. But logically, big schools would find big excuses to not refund big moneys.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining. Nor do I ever have that much moolah for kids’ schooling. Maybe I will, when the time comes for their tertiary education. But that is twelve years of bread for breakfast, soup for lunch and bread and soup for supper. If I could, I would just send me Monchies to a local school, non-private, non-international, non-grande-dinero. I was, actually, ready to send Dara Monchy to SRJK Yu Hua Kajang or SRJK Tamil West Country Kajang if these schools would accept a Canadian citizen.

 

Anyway, just like any big organization, this big school I am talking about, has a big reputation to manage and maintain as well. Being built on a big budget sponsored by embassies of big countries, the school really wants to look big by giving big donations. No biggy! After a huge Christmas Bags Project for the orphans a month ago, now it is time for the Silent Auction. (Parents donate items into themed Class Baskets that are to be auctioned at the Holiday Night Event. All out Oscars style!)

 

Kitreena’s Class Basket’s theme is ‘Princessy’ or ‘Girly’. I wish I had gotten some extra Malay, Chinese, Indian Princess Dolls (like the ones I got for my mother-in-law) from the souvenir store at the Equatorial Hotel in Bangi. And I wish the Malaysian Embassy here in Moscow would have something or anything that represents Malaysia for sale. You see, I am very Malaysian at heart and would really like to educate some hardcore Russians that between Thailand and Singapore there is a paradise called Malaysia.

 

With that note, I am unexcitedly off to go shopping for some Barbie or Bratz dolls and some custom jewelleries with a Botox smile on my unBotoxed face.

 

Meany Me

Years ago, someone I went to university with had this habit of overusing the “You know what I mean?” expression. Even after I did everything I could – and applied everything I learned in the Interpersonal Communication subject – to show her that I really got what she meant, she would go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on (I can go on and on and on and on with this, too, you know what I mean?) with her sob stories. And after every second or third sentence she would say, “You know what I mean?” Sometimes with a different variation such as, “You know what I’m saying?” or “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Mind you, I knew even back then, that I was not only an active listener or a dialogic listener, I was a reflective listener.  I did not only have empathy, I communicated my empathy. So I put up with her annoying habit until one day I just strangled her to death and sent her to heaven. You know what I mean? Yes, I was that mean. You know what I mean?

 

Well, I wish the story and the friendship would just end with something as easy as strangling her to death and sending her to heaven to end her misery. But no. It didn’t end that way. It ended with a technique called Avoidance Technique. Or sometimes known as ‘Run The Opposite Direction When You See Her And Make It Look Like An Accident’. It worked. I was just about ready to strangle myself and send my good-listener self to good-listeners heaven if I hadn’t adopted the technique fast enough, though.

 

So to Ms Mean, if you still do what you used to do (and was about to cause yourself a tragic death), please change. It has been close to 17 years since I had to use my Avoidance Technique on you, so I would truly like to believe you have grown out of it. Mind you, you are the only person I ever had to use the technique on. In later years, I actually learned different techniques. My favorite has been “Be Honest, Just Tell Them”. Thanks to the quotation I found not long after we graduated…

 

“The greatest consolation of all is to speak one’s mind.”

 

 

I Kan Fishy

Though I love to eat, I don’t normally disclose what really whets my appetite – for the fear of revealing too much about my deeper self, my inner desire, my intimate lust. After all, “We are what we eat”, are we not? I have heard about some freaks people who claim that they can tell how good one is in bed just by what one eats. Oh yeah! So, to cut the carrot short, I won’t pretend to be surprised if they can rate my performance by the brand of meehoon (rice noodle) I have in my pantry! Rate all they want, I won’t wound their stomach or get angry. I promise.

 

But then, let me just quote Edrick’s latest favorite expression to show you what I think about my fear of revealing too much, “Oh foooeeeyyy!”

 

There is an adage in Bahasa Malaysia:

“Kalau takut dilambung ombak, jangan berumah di tepi pantai.”

(It literally means, that if you are afraid of being thrown about by waves, do not build your home on a shore.)

 

To this blog of mine, where I house my stories and my thoughts, the web is an unimaginably big ocean. And unfortunately fortunately to my limited knowledge, I am the only subject known to me well. No, not just well. I know me best. I know me the wellest! Therefore, my front door is where the water is and I am testing it all the time when I write about myself. I don’t just write. I reveal. I open myself up to your judgement. But then, judge all you want. Criticize to your heart’s content. I know I’ll bypass all your judgement and criticism with a byword: “If you be yourself, no one can tell you you’re doing it wrongly.”

 

Anyway, it wasn’t a part of my plan to sound philosophical today. I was going to show you this:

 

 

 

Oh yeah, if this is any indication of what I like and what I’m like… I like it hot, baby. And I am like… ooohhh hot hot hot!

 

Since I had run out of the liquid Vietnamese Mắm Tép, yesterday I finally opened the block of Malaysian belacan I successfully smuggled through Domodedovo Airport in November. Two months and 60 degrees Celcius later, my mind just could not shake the craving off. I was on a mission to stink the whole house. I started with the sambal. As a preventative measure against poison-gas emission, and for preservation, I cut it up in cubes, store them in a glass container and into the freezer it went. Such dangerous item this belacan is, it has to be handled with care. This is how the belacan cubes look now, frozen, ready for my Sambal Belacan.

 

 

 

Oh yeah, the stinkier the better!

 

(Oh, just remembered that I haven’t labeled the jar. I hope Mr. Johnson wouldn’t mistake them as chocolates – as I don’t normally keep chocolates in the freezer. And that is because I have a much bigger and more powerful freezer in the backyard! It’s a solar-powered seasonal -25°Celcius open freezer.)

 

And here’s the whole dish for you to judge me by:

 

 

Yes, the gold/silver dead object you see on my plate is the tail of a very unlucky fish. I bought a Russian (lightly) salted dried fish last week in the hope that it would taste similar to the Malaysian Ikan Masin/Kering. Fish is fish and salt is salt you know. Salt is salty and fish is… uh, fishy. How wrong can one go? In Sakhalin, Vladivostok or Moscow, what’s fishy will smell. You can dry ’em, you can smother tomato sauce all over ’em, you can hide ’em, you can can ’em, and you can even can’t ’em if you can. A fishy affair, though has nothing to do with fish, will inescapably smell.

 

Well, back to the fish. The verdict is… “Pretty Darn Close”! I had a tough time, however, trying to gut the fish. It’s tough enough doing it when the fish is fresh. Tougher when it’s tough. But I am not complaining. What I did was, I basically just cut the whole middle section out with a pair of kitchen scissors. (I know I am grossing you wayyy out, Neil!)

 

The fish tastes like a cross between a salted dried and a fermented fish (pekasam), though the meat is a bit harder and firmer than the real McCoy. I suppose I can, for next time, fry the poor fish and then soak it in lime juice with some chopped shallots and chilies for a good half day or so. See if I can restrain myself that long. Or will I go all soft, fermented and as fishy as a fishy affair can be. We’ll see.

 

All said and revealed, and after all the discursive paragraphs above, here’s what I originally had in mind for this post:

 

 

 

When I was a little girl, I remember, my Mom used to do this everytime she made sambal with her Lesung Batu. I now call it Nasi Lesung. While she never had a name for this special ‘dish’, the intention was clear. To clean the lesung, and not to waste any remaining sambal sticking to it. She would put a scoop or two of just-cooked rice into the mortar and gently rub the pestle around, ‘cleaning’ the lesung in the process by mixing the rice with the sambal. There is this distinctively fresh taste to the mix, so to speak.

 

And this, ladies, gentlemen and notsogentlemen… is to die for. I am not equipped with a term in any languages I speak to explain why this is worth flying 8157km home for (or driving around in a city of close to 15m people looking for sambal-material megahot chilies for). So I won’t waste my your time trying to cook up any description. Well, maybe it is just my excuse to cut this short, so I can run downstairs to enjoy my cucumber sticks with sambal dip-dip lunch. It’s for you to judge.

 

Judge away!

 

 

 

 

 

Postlude:

By the way, if you ask me what my favorite cooking smell is, my answer will be:

 

 

Freshwater fish (in this picture it is Trout) rubbed with salt and turmeric powder, fried on a woodfire stove. What can beat that? Signing off, a homesick kampung girl having a fishy affair in her kitchen in a mega city of Moscow. I kan fishy!

 

Glossary for Neil:

ikan = fish
I kan fishy? = Aren’t I fishy?

.

Pokrovsky Boulevard #9

I knew I was going to confuse many people with the last entry. I am not sorry as it was totally intentional! Muahahaha. No peeps. I am not inchinta (pregnant in Italian). My business has seen unimaginable profit with Kitreena and Edrick and my shop is closed so that I can spend the remaining years of my life counting my profit blessings.

 

It is my friend Jo-Anne – also my neighbor I once or twice mentioned in my entries – who is expecting a little one. She lives 13 houses down the boulevard from me, if you noticed the number. Hehehe. I was just too excited about the news yesterday because I actually creepily had a dream that she got pregnant, and she did!

 

Pokrovsky Boulevard #28

 

The pregnancy news just made my year.
Come what may, I am smiling ear to ear.

Beary Much Loved

 

Whatever love is, I am reminded… love lots.

 

Tujuh Gunung Sembilan Lautan

Cik Nan,
Saya dapat sms awak terus tak boleh tidur. Terus rasa nak bergebang, maka… awak satu laman je sms, saya enam! Alih-alih, daripada saya mengkayakan syarikat talipon Megafon yang dah sedia kaya, baik saya menulis blog untuk awak. Ni lah dia penangan sindrom rumahsakit [read: homesick] yang dialami Cik Nid! Tapi saya memang homesick tahap baboon – tahap yang a few thousand darjats lagi hebat daripada tahap gaban yang digunapakai dan disukaguna di Facebook kebelakangan ni.

 

Yang paling tak tahan bila homesick ni tekak le seperti biasa. Mula-mula sekali macam dalam text saya tu, dan dah beberapa hari lately ni tekak saya rasa nak makan Mee Goreng Mamak jeh. Dah bosan tahap baboon alpha male makan kentang. Walaupun kentang tu saya buat sambal goreng ke, kari hijau ke, masak merah dengan ayam kampung Surgut ke. Well, not that I eat potatoes everyday pun.

 

Pokoknya apa saja yang saya masak saya dah bosan. Kentang ke, nasik ke, termasuklah angry noodles that won’t wound my stomach. Semua tak sedap, semua tak selera sebab semua masakan saya sendiri. Saya nak mamak jugak yang masakkan untuk saya. Mamak comot pun comot lah. Tangan berbulu lebat pun wa tak heran na. Asalkan bukan tangan saya dua kerat ni yang memplong-plang kuali.

 

Lepas tu bila dah abis berangan Mee Goreng Mamak hensem mata kelabu kat Jalan Ampang, saya homesick terkenang sesi kopitiam kita kat The Curve tahun lepas pulak. Sesi kopitiam adegan yang biasa kita lihat antara Cik Nan-Cik Nid, makan 2 keping roti kaya tapi duduk bergebang sampai ahpek ahso nak tutup kedai pun kena dial 911 mintak bomba datang kerat bangku tempat kita duduk suruh kita bawak balik je lah bangku tersebut.

 

Yang peliknya saya miss se’sangat kopitiam punya telur rebus separuh masak, tapi tiap kali saya turun sarap, yang keluor cold cereal dengan susu beras trademark saya tu. Tak tercapai pulak dek tangan saya ni akan pintu esboks mengambik telur barang 2 butir masuk koley air panas selama 12 minit. Padahal telur bersepah kat Kedai Kak Pokrovskiah kat tepi gate Bukit Pokrovsky tu haa. Punya banyak telur sampai bertelur Kak Kiah nak mengabiskan stok telur ayam Surgut beliau itu kengkadang.

 

Oh ha, cakap pasal Kedai Kak Kiah yang lokasi nya terletak betul-betul sebelah sekolah montessori yang Edrick akan masuk balik kelak, Rabu ni saya antor dia masuk balik sekolah. Dapatlah saya berkhalwat dengan diri saya sendiri selama 4 jam setiap Senin, Rabu dan Jemaat mulai minggu ini. Dah sekian lama saya tak berkesempatan nak duduk-duduk, baring-baring, belai-belai diri saya sambil potong-potong kuku, cabut-cabut bulu dan picit-picit jerawat dengan santainya serta tak perlu memakai jam randik.

 

Kalau saya guna perkataan berkhalwat dalam status Facebook saya, apa gamaknya orang fikir ye Cik Nan. Sebelum saya ditangkap basah dengan diri saya sendiri, baik saya jangan guna perkataan berkhalwat. Baik saya guna istilah bersunyi-sunyian jeh. Ni lah saya konon orang Malaysia nak cakap Arab. Elok-elok tajuk lagu ‘Akukah Yang Terlewat’ karang terus jadi ‘Akukah Yang Terliwat’  kalau tak reti eja. Tersinggung Royston Sta Maria yang kuminati itu jadinya nanti.

 

Naah, cakap pasal Royston Sta Maria dengan lagu beliau ‘Akukah Yang Terlewat’… saya baru-baru ni memang terkenang se’sangat lagu tersebut:

 

 

 

Masa tu tengah berdriving dengan Be and Monchies keliling-kelalang Moscow cari tempat nak makan Kuey Teow Goreng ke, Laksa Singapore ke. Siap sempat saya Google lirik lagu ni kat Megaphone saya okay, jiwang karat tak karat homesick nya! Pakkal tak nampak sebijik pantai pun kat tetengah bandor bersalji masa tu, kalau tidak… mau saya terisak-isak menangis sambil membiarkan airmata menitik sedih jatuh berderai.

 

Bila dah teringat lagu ‘Akukah Yang Lewat’ nih, mulalah saya teringat Majalah Dewi Remaja zaman 80’an dulu. Dalam majalah tu saya ingat ada satu cerpen bertajuk “Cintanya Terdampar Di Pulau”. Pehhhhh! Penulisnya Aliah Ahmad kalau tak salah saya. Kalau salah, saya tak tau lah apa yang betulnya kecuali kalau ada yang tolong betulkan. Kalau tak ada yang ingat, tak payah lah betulkan. Kalau ada yang ingat tapi tak nak tolong betulkan, tak payah. See if I care.

 

But anyway, ceritanya digandingkanlah konon dengan lagu Roy ni. Saya pulak memang sedia sentimental, romantik dan jiwang tahap dewi remaja masa tu. Tiap kali baca cerpen tu pasang lagu, baca je pasang lagu, baca je pasang lagu, baca je pasang lagu. Well, you get the drift lah kan. Menangis macam anak ayam Surgut hilang mak sebab mak dah kena potong dan kena steam oleh Kak Kiah. Tapi memang terbukti… anak kalau hilang mak, dia akan menangis tangisan yang paling sedih pernah anda lihat. Macam yang berlaku pada 7hb Oktober 2009 bila saya hilang mak. Anak ayam Surgut pun tak boleh lawan sedih saya.

 

Bila cakap pasal mak saya, saya mesti akan ingat lagu-lagu yang mak saya suka. Sebab tu lately ni kalau awak tengok Facebook saya asek berlagu jeh. Mak saya kalau bab lagu, pehhhh… boleh bukak bank punyalah kaya ingatan beliau ni. Pernah sekali kawan saya yang nak membuat pertunjukan pentas menyanyi lagu Pop Yehyeh tapi tak ingat lirik. Saya angkat jeh talipon tanya mak saya yang masa tu tengah menggulai ikan haruan di dapur, beliau terus petik baik punya! Lagu tersebut ialah yang bermula begini: “Hari ini kau datang riang, tersenyum buatku senang…” Nah cobaklah kaok nyambong nya kalok brani.

 

Bila dah banyak sangat saya menonton YouTube lagu-lagu lama kebelakangan ini, baru saya perasan anak dara saya sekarang bercakap mengikut gaya orang Singapura zaman lama kalok berchakap. Malah sekarang kalok dia maok berchakap sama saya, dia maok panggil saya ‘Emak’. Mujurlah belum lagi dia berchadang menukar namanya kepada ‘Puspawangi’ macham felem Musang Berjanggut sambil berjalan di hadapan bapaknya, “Pak pak, dara tumpang lalu ya pak?” Sebab bapaknya pun tak tau namanya ‘bapak’.

 

 

 

 

Sudahlah dulu ya Cik Nan, kejap lagi Cik Nid nak ke ladang tanam kachang, jangan bimbang, hati senang. Walaupun saya bergebang, berstatus dan berkomentar di Facebook dengan seluruh dunia tujuh gunung sembilan lautan macam dunia ini ana yang empunya, kawan-kawan yang dekat di hati saya boleh dikira dengan jari sebelah tangan. Dan pada saya, awaklah ibu jari. Tak kanan, kiri.

 

 

 

 

Zapin