Christmas Eve, I uncovered my 'hidden-in-the-cabinet-for-decades' pot and pan and decide to be good for once. Whisked myself into the supermarket for a quick grocery run of onions, garlic, ginger, cinnamon, spices and pork belly, I braced myself to take a adventurous stance in making braised pork belly, a traditional fav in the family. I wanted to cook something for my parents for a pleasant surprise.Pleasant it is not. Oh, I cried and sob when chopping up the onions, frowning at the unequal sizes of the onion bits, fumbled with frying, burnt the garlic charcoal black, got my shirt and recipe book sprinkled with soya sauce, and finally got every ingredient in the pot for stewing in the next hour.
Every ten minutes, my curiousity propelled my head over the pot, poking the belly with a fork, get myself busy tossing and turning it, adding water, little more sauce, sprinkling a wisp of pepper here and there. And almost one hour later, I decide to cut of a piece of braised pork and try it. And it actually taste.......
BETTER than I thought! Gleefully, I danced a little steps through the kitchen, made some turns around nearing knocking into the sink, oh yes but still beaming with pride. What a feat for Christmas a novice's attempt.
Done with washing, I hastily called my mum, packed some more food stuff and head for home. My parents tried to keep their expressions as cool as a cucumber when I show them my final fueled piece. The moments are heart-stilling as I scrutinised their expressions to get obviously,any comments or feedback, at least a weeny compliment from them..please?
I asked almost hundred times "How was it? nice? Too salty? Meat too tough?!.....
Well, the final results said it all. They finished everything! The pork, the sauce, the rice.
I am so pleased.
That night, I attempt to stay up for silent night and attend a Church mass eurcharist. Oh I did not managed to. I fell sound asleep like a baby. I woke up on Christmas morning hungry, remembering that I have not eaten any portion but a piece of what I have cooked.
1 Corinthians 13
LoveIf I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
