That all too familiar longing for the comfort and warmth of home, and mum’s cooking, is captured here beautifully by our Uncle Nelson (Nel) Philips’s musings on a cold winter day as he tries to recreate the famous family ‘Christmas Stew.’
His memories are peppered with nostalgic recollections of being our (now 99 year-old) grandmother Mary Margaret’s kitchen helper, as the heavy monsoon rains outside the family home filled up the Kelantan river.
The weather in that part of Malaysia is much cooler that time of the year (December), with mist and clouds lending the surrounding hills and mountain ranges a mysterious aura. However townsfolk and villagers living along the banks of the river are often on their toes, as the Kelantan river often bursts its banks between November and February every year, flooding towns and villages along it.
Dr Nelson Phillips or Uncle Nel to us, is now based in Ohio where he is Emeritus Associate Professor of Biochemistry at the Department of Biochemistry Case Western Reserve University. Uncle Nel who left Kelantan in his 20s, has called Ohio home for the last 40 years after obtaining his BSc in India and MSc in Australia.
This is the throwback for Uncle Nel as he attempts to recreate his memory of home in a pot filled with familiar tastes, aromas and experiences from bygone-days in the quaint wooden house in a village known as Guchil 5, in the town of Kuala Krai in Kelantan:
The Missing Ingredient
by Nelson Phillips
Written in Dec, 2022
On rainy days and Christmas eves, thoughts wander towards half a world away, to days of the never ending rains and rising waters.
And a pang of nostalgia seeps in, like the rising waters of the Kelantan River.
One eye on the disappearing ‘Bradley Steps’, dreading the impending floods, in a town called Kuala Krai, where memories were borne.
On days such as these, when Mum and home, are longed for, melancholia and cravings are awakened for Mum’s special Christmas chicken stew.
To recreate these moments, I ventured into the kitchen, to relive these nostalgia
With hopes that the familiar flavor would pacify the longing.
Through my vast experiences (so I imagined), as mummy’s kitchen helper and a wanna-be-chef, and the savory memories, in anticipation of a taste of the stew, I braved myself into the preparations, hoping for the sensory experience – and not an impending disaster from the outcome.
I fry the usual culprits; diced onions, ginger and garlic. followed by the stick of cinnamon, a few cloves, a complete star of the anise. A few pepper corns drop in, depending on the brave tongue.
Not to forget a bay leaf or two, or was it a sprig of curry leaves…, I’ll know soon enough… and certainly, half a teaspoon of turmeric for the visual delight.
This is followed by chopped-up chicken, with a generous portions of the bony parts.
After a bit of frying, coconut milk is added, and diced potatoes…almost forgot.
Another span of time say twenty minutes or so, on low boil. and I believe it should be done when the potatoes are not all mushed up.
Ah.. Almost forgot, diced carrots and peas join the stew after the potatoes had their fill.
So all the players are in and the moment of truth is at hand….the taste?
Hold on… something is afoot, what is this flavor that is strange to a memory
I did enter all that was called for by mum, and then some
A dash of the forbidden MSG, and the extra pepper corn
I did turn on the stove… the wok scorched my fingers upon the touch
What then?
It dawned on me then, that in all the stirring and twirling of the ladle, in every little morsel, in a bite that was to savor a lingering memory, the most important ingredient of them all was missing …
that little dash, or perhaps a sprinkle of love that mum put in….
(P.S. For the original recipe, please consult mums everywhere for the precise
ingredients and portions….
And that one special spice that can never be reproduced.)
When he is not conjuring up nostalgia in a pot, Nelson will be teaching and conducting research at the Bio Chemistry Department at the Case Western University office and lab.
Maria Dass the World 