COOKING YOUR OWN MEALS

This story was featured in the 1950 ACS School Magazine and was written by my Dad, Foo Chee San when he was in Standard VII C

Cooking meals at its best is only a very tedious and tiresome piece of household labour especially to the uninitiated. But at times when the cook is indisposed we are forced to conjure up a few dishes, however tasteless they might be.

We wandered round and round the kitchen, bewildered; everything seemed to go wrong, the bottles of sauce and lard could only be found in the most unexpected places. At length we had all the necessary ingredients placed on a table nearby; the rummaging had been successful but not until the kitchen had the very appearance of being hit by a tornado. The first obstacle surmounted, another cropped up: the small flame that we applied to the dry chips of wood in the stove refused to burn. We coaxed and blew until we were blue in the face but still our efforts were futile. The cook had to be called from his sick-bed and his advice sought; his skilful hands rearranged the pieces of wood in such a manner as to allow an inflow of air between them. A flaming paper dipped in oil was then applied and the fire burned merrily.

All eyes were turned admiringly on the back of the cook and once more we turned our full attention on the job at hand. The three of us divided up the work; one washed the rice, one washed the meat and scraped the inside of the fishes and I took on myself the easy, or so I thought at first, task of peeling the potatoes. What a sad delusion! Time and again the elusive potatoes slipped from my fingers to fall with a splash into the tub; the others had finished their work, the rice was boiling in the pot and the fish was sizzling in the pan. They could now afford to stand around looking at me miserably peeling at a whole pile of potatoes. Having got tired of crowding round me and enjoying the pitiful spectacle I presented, they left the kitchen to cool themselves in the adjoining corridor. Like inexperienced cooks that they were, they left the kitchen when the fire raged the hottest; I was so engrossed in my work that the first intimation I had that something was amiss was the acrid smell of burnt rice. I shouted out to them to come to the rescue but the damage was done. I had the last laugh at the expense of my stomach!

It was then proposed that we should begin all over again but as “An army cannot march on an empty stomach” we thought it better not to tempt the dates any further. Let those wiseacres say that much pleasure can be had from cooking our own meals, but they will never convince us. We pooled our resources and dived into a nearby restaurant. With the memory of our most trying experience still fresh in our minds we enjoyed the food all the more.