From 22 Years Ago...

I broke my fast at Grandmère's yesterday where she lay quite a spread for just three eating people. It included her Kway Teow kosong as described per my previous post, an Indonesian salad consisting of sprouts, long beans and topped with mildly spiced dessicated coconut and shallots. She also had the maid take free porridge from the Darul Aman mosque across the street and a ladlefull was my appetizer in which I added in a few cubes of Sambal Tofu with anchovies. Her star dish was something I apparently could not get enough off: Fried chicken coated with mixed spices that I personally call the Love Spice Mix. Yum.

I was actully just expecting porridge from the mosque but, owells. I can't say I didn't enjoy my break fast dinner last night. And she's been busy making some keropoks for Raya and while browsing through the plastic canisters, I found Muruku!! Her Muruku was made in bite-sized half-palm pieces that you can just pop in your mouth and loudly KRRRRRRRR-unch.

Grandmère isn't Indian by any definition but well, one of her life aims when she was younger was to learn how to make the food from other cultures so her family wouldn't need to buy them and hone her craft till perfection. Like trying to make those oldschool fishball crackers light and crunchy. Or churning out sheets and sheets of handmade pasta.

Anywazoo, it was after dinner and prayers that I was sitting in the kitchen chatting up to the maid while Grandmère was on the phone with Mom. Apparently Mom had found something she thought she had thrown away. It was something so priceless she had to share it with Grandmère.

It was my dress from my hair trimming ceremony, handmade and handsewn by Grandmère herself. Hair trimming ceremonies are almost as sacred as a christening ceremony and is celebrated for newborn babies for Malays and at the same time, a Thanksgiving ceremony is held in expression of gratitude. Apparently the direct translation would be hair shaving but it seems a little savage to put it that way. The hair trimming ceremony is not only subjective for the Malays but also the Chinese and Hindus as part of a cleansing ritual.

For more information, visit: http://www.heritagefest.org.sg/2005/official/downloads/teacher_rab.pdf

Grandmère didn't have to tell me that because I was the first grandkid, I was treated like royalty. I already knew no other female cousin after me has worn a handmade dress specially sewn by their grandmother. And as you will later see, it's not just any dress. It was a full-length puffy-sleeved smoking satin dress with intricate embroidery. And as you can infer, the smoking embroidery has not disappeared from the fashion scene and the trend has resurfaced in today's dresses so for those of you who have just started wearing it now to so-call keep up with current trends of smoking patterns and baby doll cuts, sorry, I wore it first in 1986. That was so twenty-two years ago.

So anywazoo, while I have seen baby pictures of me in this delicately sewn dress, I had not seen it with my own eyes. When I arrived home, it was hanging beside the kitchen door on a light switch. And it was still in mint condition.

Well, I personally love the individually stitched roses. I hope Grandmère will still be alive when her first great-grandkid wears this because this is a priceless gem, really. I know loads of young mothers nowadays would pay an arm and a leg for something as unique as this. No, I'm not selling. This is for my first girl.

Laterz...
Lenny