This morning as in most mornings, Aaron would find something to gripe about with his breakfast that I so lovingly prepared for him. Yesterday, i baked a loaf of Guinness Stout beer bread to share with my neighbour, Kim. The bread goes well with just plain butter on it. He complained this morning that the butter was sticky and left the crust uneaten.
Why can’t you ever just thank me for the food? I asked him.
The few times that the kids actually complimented me on the food, I asked them, do you know why it’s good?
Yah, cos it’s made with love.
That’s the answer I taught them. Food tastes good when it’s been prepared for someone you love. That’s why mom complains about the maid’s cooking all the time. The maid is not cooking for someone she loves, and perhaps she resents cooking for us. But I’m unfair. Arti, who has since left, cooks very well and was under appreciated. That’s also why Ah ma’s (Mike’s mom) cooking always tastes good, even her yong tau hoo soup tastes better than West Coast Market.
While I was recovering recently from my illness, I have actually eaten food cooked with love. As soon as i was discharged, we congregated at my Granny’s house while my Aunt E cooked dinner for us ten people. She brewed chicken soup that night, as well as another pot of black chicken soup for me to drink for the next day.
Two days later, my neighbour, Kim, brought over a pot of chicken ginseng soup. 補血 for you, she said.
Another two days later, she brought me a bowl of lotus root with 虫草花, with 护肝养肝的功效 (liver protection) when she heard my liver numbers were out.
Then last Saturday, Mike took me for Korean BBQ with his parents, something I’ve been craving for.
With so much love and so much 補, having dengue was well worth this lesson of appreciation for the people around me.