Of Food And Memory [Recipe: Honey-Soy Grilled Chicken]

I must be honest with you. I’ve had three drafted posts thus far containing nothing but edited photographs and jotted recipes. It seems I may have been struck by the writer’s block, though it feels a little more solemn than that. Somewhere along the line I had lost my mojo, both in the culinary aspect and that pertaining to the written word. In fact, even my unspoken words these days, much of which my years had pivoted on all these while, sound a tad lacklustre in my head.

I’ve had requests to share the recipes to specific posts on my Instagram, but it has become apparent that blogging is possibly the last thing on my mind, since I rarely bother measuring out ingredients these days, opting for the oft-mentioned agar-ation, its Malay equivalent being campak-campak;- the act of uncalculated throwing of random ingredients to whip up something in the kitchen. I’ve actually had thoughts of just dropping the blog, and resume my social media life through square-formatted photos and ramblings of 140 characters. However, coming across these photos of honey-soy grilled chicken, it reminded me of the primary reason I had set up this blog. And as selfish (and possibly offensive to you, dear readers) as it may sound, I’m sorry, but it’s not so much to share, but more to preserve. To memory, that is.

I remember vividly the mister taking a bite from his plate, he looked up and said, “Please, please, don’t forget this recipe!”. And that right there was the it moment, if you may call it that, for me; a trusty tried-and-tested recipe book without its yellow pages and dog-ear folds, this blog to me is the repository of my kitchen escapades interspersed with precious moments I hold dear each day. I’m sure fellow food bloggers can attest to this; times you refer to a recipe from your blog, and go “Ah, I remember that day. The smiles and laughter made all the cake effort worth it”. And the beauty of sharing the recipe(s) is the promise of a possibility to press replay on that etched memory, to a rekindled smile and laugh.

Thus, as much as I know I am horrid at keeping a regular blogging schedule, and though words may keep failing me each time, this blog is here to stay, and by the taste of it, this juicy sweet honey-soy grilled chicken recipe is too.

No Fancy Shmancy [Recipe: Churro Balls]

I’m afraid this is going to have to be a short and quick update. Almost as quick as it takes to bring random nondescript pantry ingredients together to become what is possibly the easiest fix for a peckish tummy with only so much time to spare while her little one catches her (cat)nap. In fact, it took such a short time to bring these from stove to plate that I was convinced enough to do a repeat act the very next afternoon. In my defence though, I had some leftover cinnamon sugar from the first day, and my momma taught me never to waste a delicious thing food. Another thing she taught me? The best things in life never had a need to be fancy shmancy; so whilst the purist in you can grab the piping bag and have pretty long churros, the rest of us can easily enjoy the same crispy-on-the-outside-chewy-on-the-inside churros in a simpler, no-fuss, pop-in-your-mouth way.

A Gift {Recipe: No Sugar, No Egg, No Milk Banana Bread}

Barely five years ago, whilst finding myself elbows deep in mixer rumblings, greasy butter and flying flour, traipsing alone in the kitchen in the dark of the night working on orders, a thought that would constantly fill my head was the day when, God willing, I will have someone to bake for. A little someone, to be precise. That the day will come when all this practice of working on adorable cartoon-themed, rainbow-coloured sweet treats topped with hand-moulded sugary figurines will come in handy for my own little one. The day I will get to see the tiny-toothed smile, cheeky grins my clients had always told me of; only this time, it will be the best gift to myself, to see my own child enjoy my work.

Fast forward four years later, whilst finding myself pinned down on the stomach by a determined one-year-old trying to snatch my glasses by the bedside, yanking my hair and nose in the wee hours of the morning, a thought that plays in my head is that the day has come, all praises to God, when I have my own little someone to bake for. And as fate would have decreed it, those years of practice did not exactly come to play the way I had imagined it to be ever since I donned the mommy badge. With my oven dead and replacement plans on halt till our new place comes along, and with the realisation that I am not exactly comfortable with loading my child with refined sugars, food colourings and dirty dozens, baking for my little A comes with a twist; from the airfryer, and with no added (refined) sugar, and no egg and dairy (under one year old).  And with every baking day, I get to see that tiny-toothed smile, cheeky grin, and excited hand-flapping action accompanying “Mmmm!”, and deep inside, I know that I have given her the best gift I can, a healthier (yet still fluffy and delicious) version of one of my favourite baked goods.