Firdauz takes 5

in reality, i had made myself amoeba-shaped pizzas, and a rose-orange drink. I ate them for lunch, for dinner, for every demonic plesiosaur who urinated in chlorinated water, happily for democracy, and freedom to hate crazy people like you.

Ah, how i was only an amateur, dabbling in life, forced puberty at 13, watched porno flicks at 12, had a cat, lost it, had another, father threw it away, but it came back a month after, and on a slow Sunday afternoon, in reality, i tried to bake myself some pizza from the bubbles of yeast and sugar and a cup of flour. A pinch of salt flavoured the dough like a tear does to a comedy.

Perhaps you’re crazy, i can’t relate so go away i like the tomatoes, oh the tomatoes tossed in a pan with extra virgin olive oil and roughly chopped garlic. And the leaves that i picked from the balcony — basil and rosemary; the insanity i’m avoiding from you, could have not made the sauce wonderful.

Because in the future, beyond flying saucers, a plesiosaur will not vote for a democracy.

In reality, you can urinate too.

anak-anak raksasa makcik, perlukan makanan yang seimbang untuk membesar sebagai juara.

Makcik bukan apa. Makcik nak tengok anak-anak raksasa makcik — ikhlas ya ni makcik cakap — menjadi pandai, bijak, bersopan-santun, handsome, cantik, pendek kata, makcik tak suka tengok anak-anak raksasa makcik nanti jadi macam Karen dan Michelle. Gemuk sangat mereka tu!

Makcik ke pekan pagi tadi. Jadi membelilah makcik segala yang perlu.

Ada sayur, daging, tomato, ayam, arak, semuanya maksik beli ikhlas untuk anak-anak makcik.

Untuk kami, anak beranak raksasa, Makcik suka masak yang ala kadar sahaja.

Macam guacamole dan salsa tomato. Simple-simple stuff.

and a new boring way to write about it.

I was multi-tasking at the two most important things in my weekend — being lazy, and hungry.

I’m really good at those, what i’m not good at is deciding what to eat, or even, how to have a meal. Do i keep lying down with the remote control and pretend that i’m not hungry, or do i call for Thai food or Swedish cuisine or the lousy Mcdonalds, or shall i go out — too lazy — or do i cook?

Too lazy to cook too.

So i went to the fridge, checked if i still have my coriander, good, still green. Parsley, where are you. Good, still fresh. And rosemary, oh i love you rosemary, i can’t live with rosemary and coriander, they are the loves of my life. And basil, but i’m bored with basil lately. I want something new, and fresh.

And this is what they call stream of consciousness? To write in the laziest way? Whatever, i’m hungry and lazy.

Subconsciously, or coincidently, or by the power of g.. geez, i do not want to say it, but honestly, i did not know when i took out the minced meat and had it thawed in the kitchen. It was there, perfectly defrosted and soft when i was chopping some parsley and coriander, without thinking too much. And then i thought, not too much, but i decided it was me who took out the meat from the freezer earlier.

Was i drunk, was i drunk, i was missing someone i think. Ok, i’m missing someone, boohoo! I’m cheap like that. Very corny. Very merepek!

I was doing the weirdest thing with the rice, i put butter, extra virgin olive oil, double cream and a pinch of salt. I never cooked rice this way, no one had i think.

Next, the koobideh. Kak Azza thought me how to do it, and her iranian husband, Touraj Sohrabi Larki, i always remember his full name. He was close to me, they all were close to me before they went back to Sweden. Yeah i remember the ghormeh sabzi, Kak Azza. Kak Azza ingat tak i used to put rock sugar into the yoghurt with pickles because it was too sour for me? Merepekkan! But it was the first time i had Iranian food la Kak Azza. I never had unsweetened yoghurt before, it felt funny when everything was plain sour.

and the chopped parsley, coriander, onions and rosemary were mixed with the minced meat, with a good splash of extra virgin olive oil. I shaped the meat with my hand, cut some butter, put them in a tray and threw it into the oven.

I have the rice, i have the koobideh, Now what? (i’m missing you silly girl, where did you go?).

While waiting for the koobideh and rice, i took the 2006 Chardonnay from the fridge, quickly chopped some onions (oh, no shallots. very sad!), heated them in a pan for 3 minutes, scooped a tablespoon of double cream, mix it together, lowered the heat, took a pinch of saffron, put it into the pan, stirred it, turned off the heat, and put butter and lemon juice, and seasoned it with salt and pepper,

I tasted the saffron sauce. Fucking delicious.

I went back to the fridge, took a handful of cherry tomatoes, threw them into the oven with the koobideh was almost done.

Except for the poor presentation of the food, everything went so right. I finished the rice, and the koobideh, and the best saffron sauce i’ve ever had in my life.

I had invited some ridiculous chick who brought me jambu air and rojak paste and a couple of her friends to feast on seafood pasta cooked with a secret ingredient i didn’t allow them to watch, and to sink their teeth into a freshly baked banana-orange cake that was eaten with Ben & Jerry’s – Banana Split ice cream, and to see me holding my breath all the time because i had recently developed a potbelly, and to learn a new word, dazlious.

“I dah gemuk kan now?” I held my breath and sucked in my paunch.

“No la, you look okay. I dah kurus now kan?”

and i will never trust any girl. They only say the nicest things because they want us to say nice things back to them. Jerks!

If there were a secret to happiness, it wasn’t about getting laid or having money, or both — that was no secret. The real secret to my happiness was to main masak-masak with silly friends of mine. That, and asking them to bless my house with an Assalamualaikum.

“Masuk rumah i kena bagi salam tau. Ada malaikat jaga. Jaga wine bottles.”

And we had dinner that night and watched a football game, and a movie; and i had asked them to stay longer, and their mothers had asked them to go back to their houses, so i told them “Come back tomorrow tau.”

They never did. Jerks! Takut emak la tu. Pussies.

P/s : Liverpool menang lawan Manchester United 4 – 1 issit? Haha.

I’ve had everything ready — the freshest tomatoes, coriander, white onions, the nicest smile, happiness, my camera, lemon — semua dengan jiwa yang gembira. Gembira untuk memasak.

But now everything tak jadi ok!

=(

I’ve promised to cook for Pinky because i love her and tomorrow is her last day at work.

Now i think she’s going to hate me forever!

My initial plan was to make her Chicken Burrito with Tortilla Chips and with homemade Guacamole. Guacamole is the key to my cooking, if i don’t have Guacamole, i don’t have anything!

I don’t have Guacamole right now, it’s 4 am in the morning.

I’m so depressed! I wanna slit my wrist and die!

Stupid, stupid, stupid avocados!

The avocados i bought are too young and hard and and taste like rubber and can’t be mashed into Guacamole — only can be smashed over someone else’s head whom i hate, like, stupid Cold Storage who sold me young avocados.

Stupid Cold Storage, mahai, cibai!

Pinky’s really going to hate me. She’s gonna think i’m not the nicest bimbo (but i am the nicest!). She’s gonna think i’m a slut whom she won’t kiss and hug and love forever! (but everyone loves me forever!)

=(

P/s: It’s 4 am in the morning, by morning i have to be in the office with a home cooked meal for her. What to cook ah cibai avocado!

If i have a big house of my own, i’d probably grow some fancy plants and cute chubby animals, call them beautiful names, and then cultivate and slaughter them with my own two hands.

But sadly, no, i live in a tall building and i cook with red wine, loud jazz music and dancing like a maniac, which is worse i think. Sipping red wine while dancing like a maniac could actually set a bad example, if one were to follow exactly, the way i cook.

And yes, i suck at cooking, and although i do dream of growing all kinds of plants and all kinds of herbs, (and still suck at cooking), i actually grow my own basil.

2 types of Basil actually, the sweet basil and the cinnamon basil.

Basil is the main ingredient in making pesto (Pesto is a delicious sauce, usually used on pasta). To make Firdy’s Hentam pesto, other than using young basil leaves, you’ll be needing :

• 2 types of cheese, hard and soft. I use Parmesan and Gorgonzola.
• About 2 1/2 cloves of smoked garlic.
• A small handful of pine nuts.
• A generous splash of extra virgin olive oil.
• Strictly no salt.

The saltiness of pesto should come from the cheese, not from additional salt.

But i don’t want to go about making the pesto yet, because i love my pesto pasta with grilled chicken. And since i don’t have a grill, i use an electric oven (given by Su Ann darling, love you so much!) to make barbecued chicken.

So, to make Firdy’s Hentam oven barbecued chicken, you’ll be needing :

• Chicken breast.
• About 3 cloves of smoked garlic.
• For seasoning, i use nutmeg, oregano, paprika, black pepper and salt.
• About half a lemon.
• Brown sugar.
• A generous splash of extra virgin olive oil.
• Cherry tomatoes.

First, the chicken breast. Cut it into a fillet, put it into the baking pan, chop some garlic, mix the garlic with the fillet, together with the seasoning and lemon juice and sugar and olive oil, and let it rest for about 15 minutes. While doing this, set the oven at 220° C.

When the oven is ready, cook the chicken fillet for about 25 minutes. Put uncut cherry tomatoes into the oven in the final 15 minutes.

Now, the pesto. You’ll be needing a mezzaluna (i use a double bladed mezzaluna) for this. Chop the garlic and put some of the basil leaves. Scrape and chop and add more basil. Scrape and chop and add pine nuts, chop and scrape and add more basil. The idea of doing this is to get a chun definition between ingredients, a wonderful spectrum of cut sizes that brings crazy happiness and surprises; new flavors burst in your mouth, as bright as the birth of a new star.

Hand chop, my dear, hand chop it for the love of good pesto.

Then add Parmesan and Gorgonzola into the mixture, add more basil and pine nuts, and chop some more, until the mixture doesn’t stick to your blade (that’s the cue actually, when you first start chopping, everything sticks onto the blade, but they don’t when they are finely chopped).

Transfer it into a small bowl, and give it a good splash of extra virgin olive oil.

When the barbecued chicken is ready, enjoy the pesto with cooked pasta.

You wont be using all the pesto, u can save some in the fridge.

Happy cooking! (and Happy Chinese New Year too!)

I finish everything within 3 minutes because it was too fooking delicious.

The words swimming in my head were in vitro. I felt a story developing its plot in my glass of wine. Crozes Hermitage. The pupils in his eyes didn’t tell me lies.

“So do you eat pork?” I asked.

“He eats everything one!” Jeanie answered on his behalf.

“Well, alcohol(by Fiqh, islamic jurisprudence) is just as bad as pork though. If i drink, i might as well eat pork.” He made it clear.

I chopped some parsley and sipped the wine, preparing dinner for 3 persons to dine. In my head, there were names that would make up the dishes for that night. Begedil and chocolate-banana-strawberry pie. One was a malay dish made by the equal amount of beef and potatoes, and the other one was a fusion of an idle knowledge and an aggressive experimentation.

The combination of the two, mothered a friendship and shipped us to the dining table and the television room. We traded ideas and angled perspectives, opened a bottle of Pinot Noir while closing the prejudiced door.

“You know i’m not in the gray area,” in a balcony on the 17th floor, i collected the common words used for my frequent explanation.

“I’m not a moderate muslim who doesn’t live a strict muslim life. I simply have made my choice,” i continued.

“And my choice was simple enough. That not everyone needs a religion. Religion for me, is like a need, it’s a necessity. There are people who need religious guidance, without it, they feel kinda lost. And there are people who don’t need religious guidance and they can still be decent people. But should anyone decide to have a religion, all i need to do is just to respect that decision.” It was long, but i was more than happy to have explained it.

“I guess you are just like me.” He replied.

We talked at length about celebrating the world for its diversity. About religion and constitution. About Pulp Fiction and Lucky Number Slevin.

Over the weekend, i had made a couple of new friends.

Last Friday and Saturday, i spent the whole day at home having friends came by and cooking meals for them.

Hidayah, whose birthday was only a day after mine came for dinner on Friday, while my princess Elle Mische whose birthday i didn’t remember came for lunch on Saturday.

“I told Yantie about your sandwich,” Hidayah came with her friend Yanti. Hidayah’s boyfriend Godop came later that night and joined us watching 2 movies – Frequency and The Fountain.

“Tapi sandwich tu sekarang dah evolved jadik omelette la Dayah,” during my university years, i used to make sandwiches and sold them to students. Egg sandwich was my specialty.

“Ala, lama tak makan sandwich Ajie buat.” People used to call me Ajie. Back in student years, they kinda have nicknames for everyone.

For it had become my specialty recently, this omelette never failed to impress anyone.

“The best omelette is when you use just about anything from the fridge.” Hidayah told me.

But i didn’t quite agree with her except when later she complimented my fridge. And nearly everyone had complimented my fridge and i loved every feeling of it. To have known that i owned one of the sexiest machines on earth.

“I want to steal your fridge,”

“Isn’t it sexy Elle Mische.”

For Hidayah and Yanti, i made them omelette and chicken soup. The soup was a bit salty due to using a cheaper chicken stock. The first ingredient written on the label of the chicken stock i bought was salt, and only the forth ingredient was chicken meat and fat. Being concern with price, i thought the real chicken stock with 91% chicken was a tad overpriced.

For Elle Mische my dear princess, i made her omelette and beef steak while putting my prayers to silence.

“Firdauz, should i come for dinner or lunch?”

“Both. You’re free the entire day right?”

I prayed to spend the entire Saturday just with Elle Mische – i missed her that much. But He put my own voice on the answering machine when i dialed His number. “For my own amusement.” He text me back. Because God had too much amusement and because Elle Mische was a sweetheart who came with 2 boxes of chocolates and biscuits, i made her a welcome drink.

“I make you a funny drink okay. And if you don’t like it, i’ll finish it.”

If everyone who came into my house had been served with a selection of wines, carbonated and yoghourt drinks, for Elle Mische, i mixed all of them into a glass.

“It’s not funny tasting,” she took a sip.

“It’s not bad also,” and then she took another sip.

“Okay, this is mine, you do yours.” She took the glass and i passed her the coaster.

Unlike the roller-coaster in His amusement park, this drink was a carnival. With songs from Corrine Bailey Rae’s second CD and Coldplay’s Viva La Vida playing in the background, we traded pleasant smiles as the main dialogue.

And a gentle kiss on the cheek and a warm hug being the epilogue.

We went grocery shopping at a local supermarket, located about 2 minutes away from my house.

I pushed the cart, filling it with red meat, prawns, mussels, broccoli, pineapple, baby spinach, seasoning, ice cream – all kind of things. She had the cutest smile, the kind of my liking. In her blue jeans and white t-shirt, she could have been the best shopping companion i ever had. The laid back, relaxed and happy go lucky kind of girl.

“Kenapa tak ambik yang besar?” I asked about the 2 small packages of Hello Panda biscuits.

“Tak nak lah.” I figured she enjoyed having varieties over quantity.

After the heartless cashier took away all the big notes i had, and after i contributed to the country’s economic growth, Diah drove me home.

“Betul ke dua minit? I start kira sekarang tau,” She challenged the validity of the claim i made about the supermarket being only 2 minutes away from my house.

“Ala mana aci! 2 minutes tu not from keluar parking sampai ke parking rumah i. Parking ni belok-belok, banyak bumps. Tolak parking okay?”

She just laughed. She laughed at everything – at the pictures of the overweight me with straight hair, at the Cleo magazines on my bookshelf, at the soft toys in which she later snuggled with. She laughed, we laughed together lying down side by side on the rug, hugging pillows and soft toys while watching The Simpsons before a movie started.

“Cepat, i nak ambik gambar you,” and i took a picture of her.

“Taknak!” and then i deleted the picture from my camera. The picture was a picture of her hiding her face with a pillow.

I cooked 2 dishes for her. The first one had become my signature – a very tasty omelet, a recipe i just created earlier that night. The second dish was aglio e olio pasta, a combination of recipes stolen from various places, gathered in my head and came out with my own but somehow it failed to perform. The pasta was lacking in flavour and texture.

“I reti basuh pinggan and potong bawang je,”

“Haha, it’s okay. I yang kena masak, you duduk sana, tengok movie cepat!” But she helped me with the garlics though.

“Eh pelik lah bawang putih ni. Macam lain je. Ok ke?” She commented on the garlics, and the way i chopped them leaves.

“Ok ape. I tak masak guna garlic atau cara memotong daun dan bawang yang salah. I masak guna jiwa dan perasaan.”

If there was truth in every glass of wine Diah and i had that wednesday evening, it would be our sincere companionship. She let me do my worst cooking and i let her laugh at me. A mutually beneficial interest. Laughing and cooking for friends is what i want to do for the rest of my life. I’ve told this to Anna Suraya while we were out partying, i’ve told this to Farah when we were out feasting on Japanese food. I’ve told this to myself since 2 years ago. That the purpose of my life, is to leave flaws manifest from my lousy cooking and to let laughters fix some colours into it.

So let honesty refine the texture, and let love be in the mixture in my cooking pan.

For home-cooked meals could connect friends.