The first Mother’s Day…

…without my dearest mummy is a mixed bag of emotions for me. I’m sure I’m not the only one who cringed slightly at the sight of ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ texts all through the day.

Last night, little C said I could choose absolutely anything I wanted to eat for dinner (even Chinese or hawker food, she added 😑). As we settled down for steamboat, she looked very pleased. She said “Mummy, are you more relaaaaaxed because are not cooking for us tonight?” I actually genuinely enjoy cooking but did not realise the high strung vibes I must be giving off while trying to get dinner set up at home. 😂

Then this morning, I woke up to an array of my favourite things so lovingly prepared by little C.

A bowl of salad (because I love my greens), a glass of lime soda, a photobook of a holiday we had in Kenya opened to a page of a giraffe (my favourite animal), a hand-crafted paper flower taped to the side of the book, and some tiny animal figurines to represent the nature that gives me so much peace.

I felt so seen and appreciated, especially after I found out how stressed out she was planning all this yesterday. And how early she woke to set everything up before I even stirred.

I celebrate being a mother to little C - she's the most perfect little being I am so privileged to mother. Yet I mourn that she might be my one and only. I also celebrate being a daughter to a woman who truly showered me with unconditional love and never made me feel lesser than I was. Yet I mourn that I am no longer able to show her the love she so deserves.

This afternoon, Ed, in his gentle way, asked if I wanted to prepare for dinner with my dad a dish that my mum would have enjoyed eating. I scrolled through my mental list of her favourite foods - Japanese, fish head curry/claypot fish head, sourdough bread, sliced fish noodles, prawn noodles (only if it is authentic and served with dry chilli powder), mala xiang guo, and the list goes on.

In the end, I decided to capture her spirit in our meal instead - she was adventurous, rarely cooking the same thing twice and not one to follow recipes.

Growing up, our weekend meals cooked for us was excitingly varied. Also, every iteration of her chicken stew or pasta was different. She'd cook based on memory and some kind of cooking logic, combined with the latest nugget of cooking wisdom/lore she gained e.g. bentong ginger over regular ginger or choosing radish with deep green hues for kimchi.

I now recall with amusement that the potato salad she made almost every Christmas was slightly different. One year, she'd use bacon bits from the bottle. The next year she'd fry up her own bacon. The following year, she switched out the brand of mayonnaise, or maybe it was the type of potatoes. Every bowl of noodle soup she made for me after a late night at work was pleasantly unpredictable. I'd never know what morsel of vegetable or protein she'd find from the depths of the fridge that she'd throw into the pot, never wanting to waste anything. Perhaps only her Chap Chye (mixed vegetable) contribution for Chinese New Year was more reliable, but only barely so.

So for our dinner tonight, in honour of her adventurous and waste not, want not spirit, I grilled a fish in the oven instead of relying on my usual methods of preparation for fish.

I also made a salsa-like topping that was loosely based on a molho à campanha recipe I read. I say loosely because I merely remembered that the recipe called for something acidic, some oil and some chopped up vegetables. A small bottle of leftover chimichurri, from steak dinner the night before, became the base that I added chopped peppers and tomatoes to with a big splash of red wine vinegar.

The dish turned out great - even the last bit of sauce was mopped up with some bread. The cherries on the cake were little C’s first proper attempt at fresh pasta (with minimal help from me) that she wanted to contribute to our dinner with her dear 外公 (maternal grandfather), as well as my dad’s Fu Zhok Yi Mai Tong Sui (beancurd skin, barley and gingko nut dessert) that finally hit all the right notes on his third try. It seems we all got the memo to wander into more unfamiliar territory.

I think my mum will be proud that we came together tonight - after all, that was always the higher purpose of food for her, beyond mere nourishment. To make my mum extra proud, I won't bookmark this recipe and will attempt it some months or maybe even years later just off my memory.

Wish me luck.