A Day At Nanny Alonso's...

Went over to Nanny Alonso's house with Mom & the 4 sisters yesterday in hopes to cease the sense of boredom despite it being a festive period.

And of course, the first thing that came into view even before we could see the house was always that dratted mango tree, standing not-so-proud & not-so-tall despite its three generations.

I had brought along with me me trusty orange notebook filled with all the out-of-the-world outrageous writings that I penned down thru the days of my life. The majority pages of the book was dominated by names of various soccer players in alphabetical order. So far, I've gone 7 rounds, some of which had gaping holes due to the unavailability of names to cater to the alphabets. Like, just how many players can you actually think of whose name starts with the alphabets, 'V', 'X', 'Y', 'Q' & 'O'??

Give me 7 of each & I'll let you take over my throne.

Anywayz, even after lunching on Mom's almost-impossible-to-stop-after-one-round Chicken Tom Yam, I still had slightly enough room to snack on a couple of Nanny's Prawn Keropok & a few bites of Barbecued Sambal Stingray that Nanny's brother had brought for her when he came to visit that morning.

The impressional verdict left by the stingray was not a lasting one. Granted, it was spicy; a tad too spicy for my liking but then again, I never have been the one able to stomach too spicy food. But, I found lacking in the stingray was the kick that didn't deliver. Sure, the lime presented a slight zing to it but that was it. There were no fragrant leaves in the sambal to make it more aromatically melt-in-your-mouth that you can seem to taste even before consuming it. Tender & fresh was the white flesh of the fish, but yeah, the spices or lack thereof wasn't able to leave me craving for more. The sambal was just...sambal. Ordinary chilli pounded into a paste with a little salt thrown into it. And maybe a selfishly reluctant dash of five-spice.

What makes me such a choosy stingray eater?? Well, Mom & Daddy Alonso cooks this dish like the seasoned pros they are & I, myself, have had a hand in concocting up the sauce. And because even though my parents' sambal sauce sweetly spicy, I'm able to lick my plate clean & go for more than one helping while piling my plate with sambal despite my tongue being on fire. The tangy lime coats the sambal like as though its part of it, the Kasturi Lime leaves providing a fresh, tart aroma that somewhat hides the fishy smell of the stingray. It's all in the sambal, baby. If it doesn't smell good, it probably doesn't taste as good either. Ohh yes, and do marinade the fish in assam water before you do anything with it.

Okay, so I left the table not really satisfied with the fish & told Mom so. Now, I wished she'd cook some for us very soon. She & Daddy could give the owner a run for their money.

I went upstairs to an air-conditioned guest room with my notebook, pen & discman in hopes to complete another round of A-Z soccer player names. Unfortunately, my solitary moment was shortlived as I was joined my other sisters on the bunkbed as well as the super-single bed beside it.

God knows what happened after that -I think I may have made Nini cry for a while- but I fell asleep. Blame it on the Chicken Tom Yam & the Barbecued Sambal Stingray. And those extra keropoks. The next thing I knew, I was being awakened by Mom to go do my prayers, afetr which I proceeded to the kitchen to -what else??- snack some more. This time on the leftover cookies from Hari Raya. Of course, I attacked the Pineapple Tarts, because, well, so what if it wasn't Hari Raya??

A few hours later, we started packing up to go home & as Mom backed the car out of the front porch, Mom pointed out to Nanny's maid that there were ripe mangoes on the tree & told her to get the bamboo pole & try to jolok a couple of the ripe ones. My curiosity was piqued & I got out of the car as the maid tried her best to jolok the mangoes. But the problem was, the best ripe ones were right on top of the tree & was impossible to jolok while the semi-ripe ones were on left on the lower section of the tree.

Mom encircled the perimeter of the tree, giving orders to the maid on which fruits to jolok.

Ohh, and by the way, jolok is the colloqial variant to pluck, but jolok sounds much better, don't you think??

Anywayz, since both Mom & the maid were kinda on the short side of things, Mom immediately turned to me & in her usual, domineering way said, "Lenny-girl. You jolok. Just hold the galah up with the mangoes inside & then give the bag a jerk."

Errr...ookaaay. Novice that I was, I only did like how I saw Mom & the maid do it. Suffice to say, I wasn't as bad as I thought I was, despite nearly losing my balance with that extra-long galah. Caught myself two hugely ripened mangoes too!! It might seem like a minor feat considering that I was just jolokking mangoes, but I couldn't staunch the slight pride that swelled in me.

Never in my 19 years had I been given the chance to actually jolok those fruits. And it was just as well because the very first time I tried scaling up that tree like how my uncle did when I was seven, I very nearly ended in the longkang with possibly a broken arm or leg & almost gave Mom an early cardiac arrest. And so it went that I wasn't allowed five feet near the tree, without or without adult supervision.

Then now, at 19, with the long-ago incident possibly forgotten, I jolokked my first two mangoes. Hurraaaay!!

So, now you know who to call when you want someone to jolok your fruits. *winks*

Laterz...
Lenny GodGilla Xabs