Four things I would love to learn, from scratch:
1. French, again.
Number four is the most exhilarating because it is the least enticing. I have always preferred book than bain-marie and painting brush than pastry brush. I took advantage of my mother's liberal approach when it came to kitchen education. I prayed without fail for a husband who does not only cook, but love to cook.
Kamal would prepare iced sarsaparilla on a hot evening, but that is it. Heh.
Then, one day, our friends came over to complete a paperwork. I prepared my signature dish, spaghetti bolognese. Only Kamal loved it. My mother advised me to prepare something that endears to pure Malay taste buds. Something like fried noodle for a start.
I was on medical leave today. By late afternoon, I felt fresher. Less pain, less gas. I decided to celebrate the beauty of life by heeding my mother's advice. I called Kamal to inform the menu for dinner,"fried noodle a la Chech".
I recalled the ingredients used in the practicum in Ketereh. My sister-in-law's voice clearly reverberated in the recipe section of my mind. Blend this and this first, put these and those into the frying pan, and voila, everybody will beg for a second helping.
Truly, it was an art of campak-mencampak. "I might lack the experience, but I am creative", I convinced myself. I put a sunny side up on top of the noodle, for the sake of colours. More colours with cherry tomatoes. They made up for the lack of ingredients, too. I only used the items available in the fridge.
You may have laughed your head off by now at my excitement, but I must say that I was ecstatic Kamal actually finished the big portion served to him. He might have been famished though. Oh, apart from being creative, I am an optimistic. He loved the fried noodle that he asked for a second helping although not immediately after.
I have another packet of noodle for yet another trial.