Steak Tartare

One of the reasons why I cook and experiment to a mad extent is because I keep halal. And one of the issues of keeping halal means that unless the food is prepared in a halal manner, I pretty much won’t eat it. I could eat it and I am willing to confess that I have once or twice in my entire life but the guilt overwhelms me, so much so that I can’t really remember what I eat, more the agonizing that follows after.

But I do admit that there will be some things that will be forever out of my grasp. Anything with pork obviously – which well, I don’t miss since you can’t really miss things you don’t experience. A lot of French food since they tend to douse their cooking with wine. That I sob a little.

And then, there are some of those really, really odd meals that I really wish I could try if they are made with halal meat. Like steak tartare.

Steak tartare seems like a bizarre choice to mourn considering there are plenty of other food stuff out there that I will miss. But in a strange way, I’ve always been fascinated by steak tartare since well, it’s raw beef. I suppose if I like raw fish I should like raw beef.

I told my mum about it on a drive home, that of all things I wish I could eat and will never have the chance to – it’ll be steak tartare. She asked me, why not.

“Because it’s pretty much raw beef. And since you can’t eat this in Paris since well, it’s not halal and in Malaysia…well, I don’t trust that the handling of the meat here is hygienic enough for us to eat steak tartare and not get food poisoning.”

“True.”

“I mean, look at the way we handle our meat. It’s clean but not clean enough. I’ve no idea where I can get super fresh meat unless I see the cow being cut in front of me.”

“Oh. You’re right.” She paused for awhile, as though to think. “Hey…I’ve an idea! You know what you can do. The best time to get fresh met is during Raya Haji (Eid ul Adha), when they sacrifice the cow. You can queue, get the meat and you can definitely get the freshest meat then!”

…

“Umi, I think there’s something seriously not right that you’re asking me to get meat meant for the poor to make a French dish meant to satisfy the pretentious side of me.”

Roots Made of Concrete

Picture courtesy of sister-in-law, well, I hope she doesn't mind since I nicked it off her FB without permission.

Despite insisting that I was not going to get into the spirit of Eid, as it turns out, I had a lovely, lovely Eid. It was a lot more relaxed than the previous years – my family would usually make the trip to Johor before Eid and spend Eid in KL and Eizwan’s family almost never travel to Kelantan anymore since the entire family is here.

Eid is mostly a KL affair for my family, which still surprise a number of people. They look at you incredulously and splutter, “But, but what about your kampung (village)? What about your buffaloes, geese, and ducks and the long stretches of paddy fields?” It is well known that Eid in Malaysia (well, actually, any holiday really) is a time for people to balik kampung (going home to your village) to reconnect with your roots.

Well, I’m always connected to my roots since my roots are made of concrete.

It is really hard to explain to people that my grandmother would not know what to do with a buffalo, and as mind-boggling as it may seem to some, there are those of us who grew up in the city, my generation, the generation before me and the generation before them. I’ve no idea what my great-great-grandfather did before he left for Malaysia (or Malaya back then). Legend has it that he hopped onto a little sampan (a tiny boat) and paddled all the way from Java to make a new life in Johor. In the city.

My paternal great-grandfather came from China. There might be ducks, geese and paddy fields from where he came from but I would not know. Not much is known about him at all, from the stories I’ve heard, he was keen on forgetting where he came from, the few things he brought with him from China was a little seal bearing his family name. He got himself converted and married three lovely young women as one did back in the day, but that’s another story for another day.

Me, Eizwan and SIL at a relative's house.

So, no. I’m as city girl as it gets. Plus, if there were geese during my Eid, it would make my mother very unhappy. Geese and her are no mixy. They are sworn mortal enemies. My mother still speaks of them in a hushed whisper, faint lines of trauma visible on her face as she speaks about the time a gaggle of geese chased her down the road when she was coming back from high school with no one to rescue her.

Come to think of it, if you can get geese in the city, why do you need to go back to the village for the holidays?

But Happy Eid everyone! Hope it was as wonderful as mine.

Eid Mubarak!

Eid Mubarak everyone!

It’s been about three weeks since my last entry and I have to say, this is the first time in weeks since Ramadhan started do I feel better about myself. It’s not to say I was feeling particularly low – but no, as I’ve discovered over the years, Ramadhan does not agree with me very well and I usually spend Ramadhan being very sickly.

Ramadhan is over now, and it means I’m heading back to ruddy health. During this year’s session at the mosque, the Imam spoke about how in Ramadhan, we are actively and explicitly denying ourselves from God’s bounties to actually appreciate what he actually does give us. It made me think that even my health was the result of His bounty and goodness to me, and that during Eid, I am very grateful for being able to wake up and not feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

Of course, you can argue that why on earth would I be subjecting myself to such pain in the first place – but I like Ramadhan! I like the communal spirit, I like not having to think about lunch, I like the peace and quiet that comes with it. I like the challenge, trying to cleanse yourself from temptation and the celebration after. It’s a break from the year’s mundane activities – it’s a time of reflection and Eid feels like the New Year’s when it does happen after a month of waking up early, restraining yourself from eating and drinking.

But I have to be aware that I’m not supposed to fast if it kills me – and this year was the first year I contemplated on giving it up completely, fasting once every two days or so. It’s disappointing but well, no point fasting if you end up in hospital. But I do wonder if Eid will be just as exciting if I cut down on my efforts during Ramadhan.

This year’s Eid was, to use the overused term in technology, a game-changer. Being married meant splitting our time between two families. It was tough because both Eizwan and I are stubborn people and we want to spend time with our families but I think we managed about okay. I do like having more people to visit, even if it meant being a little more exhausted. And this year, as bonus, Hani is back, so we were family over Eid and plus one.  So this year, was rounds of merrymaking, overeating, fits of giggles and more family.

To think I thought Eid was for little kids – but no, I’ve learnt over the years is that Eid is what you make of it. We have experimented over the years, to do without the silly fairy lights, the Raya cards, the traditional foods – but it was all wrong. No, Eid is still about the gluttony, the overeating to please the hosts of the homes you go to, although your beautiful clothes are bursting at the seams and the silly fairy lights.

This year I had it all – the silly fairy lights, the misshapen cookies that I baked, a small Iftar at my place whereby nosebleeds and severe allergies were induced (sigh!), the new baju raya (new clothes for Eid morning) from a tailor I’m losing patience with, the getting lost on the way to a relative’s house (damn you, Garmin!), stressing my poor heart with cholesterol consumed from various red meats and parts of a cow I didn’t know you could eat. But I ate anyway.

It’s Monday today, and all the celebrations have calmed down somewhat. Most people will be on leave for the rest of the week and really, we’re in Malaysia and the party goes on one month long.  I’m enjoying the quiet but I am starting to feel that it’s time to get a move on. I had 3 months to adjust to a new life and a new home. Eid feels a lot like a brand new year for most people and it most certainly does for me. Now it’s time to start running again.