“Don’t mess around with the Kitchen God,” Sifu Sabrina warns. “He can affect your life span!"

The air in the corridor to Sifu Sabrina’s condo smells of Dettol as I traipse along its marbled floor between spotless white-washed walls.  My cell phone in my shirt pocket buzzes with a text message. I read it: The door’s unlocked. I’m in the kitchen. A packet of bakkwa dangling from one hand, I pass a few doors decorated with red Chinese New Year posters before reaching Sifu Sabrina’s unit. I enter the living room, kick off my loafers and push them to the side of a shoe rack.

“Hello…” I cross the living room to the dining area. “What’s the fever in the kitchen?” I plonk my plastic bag of bakkwa on the dining table and enter the kitchen. Whoa! Sifu Sabrina has one leg high on the countertop. “Gosh! What’re you doing?” My eyes span wider, and my cheeks flame hot.

“A cockroach! A cockroach came crawling near my feet!” Sifu Sabrina tosses her gaze to the bottom of the fridge across the room. “Never mind, it’s now under the fridge. I’ll spray insecticide afterward.” She picks up a frying pan from a wall cabinet and moves to the gas cooker. “We’ll talk as I do my cooking.” The frying pan lands on the gas hob with a soft thud.

“Your bakkwa’s on the dining table.” Taking a step forward, I see a colander filled with several heads of broccoli on the countertop. “One kilogram, Loong Kee. I was also at Oloiya, got Guinness-flavored bakkwa. But I know you’re not the drinking type.”

“Thank you.” Sifu Sabrina picks up a shiny kitchen knife. “So, wanna yak about  the Kitchen God?” The tip of the knife glistens as brightly as her lively eyes.

I climb atop a high-back stool at an island counter in the centre of the room. “How important is this fella?” I smooth the hair at the back of my head. “Is he just a lowly deity?”

“Hey, he’s as dangerous as me holding this knife!” Sifu Sabrina playfully touches her chin with the tip of the knife. “For a major sin that he reports to the Jade Emperor, you’ll be deprived of from 200 to 300 days for every twelve years of your destined life span.  For a minor sin, 100 to 200 days will be deducted from your life span. Understand?” With a nod, Sifu Sabrina turns her back to me and slices the broccoli on a wooden cutting board on the countertop.

“Yikes! That’s scary.” I slope back in my high-back stool with a loose fold of arms. “How to pray to the Kitchen God, appease him?”

Stepping over to the sink, Sifu Sabrina turns her back on me and my gaze traces its every curve. “Sweet cakes or nian gao are mandatory. Preferred food is cuttlefish, meat and chicken and three cups of wine, not tea. She rinses the broccoli under running water at the sink. “The offerings to burn are a hat, a pair of shoes, a ceremonial robe and a travel permit to enter and leave Heaven.” She casts a glance over her creamy shoulder—bonding our gazes—and returns her attention to the countertop. “One little-known but important point is that only men pray to the Kitchen God, not women.” She tosses the broccoli into a bowl containing peeled prawns and sprinkles something over them. “But some women are ignorant about this custom. The reverse applies to the Moon Goddess, Chang Er—she can only be prayed by women.”  The smell of cooking floats upward as she tosses the contents of the bowl into the sizzling frying pan.

“Where to get the Kitchen God’s paper clothing?”

Sifu Sabrina stir-fries the veggies with a spatula. “Chinese prayer store.” After a while, she steps sideways and takes an empty plate from the wall cabinet.

“The sending-off ritual’s a dying custom, right?”

Three long strides bring Sifu Sabrina to the island counter. “Declining in the big cities, but not in the small towns.” She sets both plates on the counter and pulls herself up on a high-back stool opposite and to the left of me.  “In Vietnam, the Kitchen God is very popular. There, the Kitchen God rides carps to ascend to Heaven, so carps are released into rivers. Paper carps are also burned as well as paper money for travel expenses.” Using a spoon, Sifu Sabrina rakes half of the veggies onto the empty plate. “Compliments of the chef!” She pushes the plate to me. “The Vietnamese Kitchen God is a collective term for three deities—all former mortals who became victims of jealousy, repentance and suicide.”

I take a fork from a nearby stainless steel cutlery holder and put it on my plate.  “Spill the legend, please, long story cut short.” I pass another fork to Sifu Sabrina.

Sifu Sabrina adjusts a strap of her dress. “Thanks.” She tucks strands of stray hair behind her ear. “Well, a woodcutter and his wife led a hard life. He became a drunk and started beating his wife.” Sifu Sabrina jabs at a piece of broccoli and brings it to her mouth. “Later, the woman fled and stumbled upon a hunter’s house and the fella gave her shelter and food. They became live-in lovers. Years later, the woodcutter—now a beggar—searched for his wife. He happened to pass her house but could not recognize her.” The feng shui looker pauses as she takes a big swallow. “His wife offered him food and while he was eating, the hunter returned. The woman couldn’t explain. So, the hunter assaulted the woodcutter. The woman got emotionally torn between the two men, became confused, and jumped into the kitchen hearth.” Sifu Sabrina shakes her head as if disbelieving the legend, a grimace flitting across her lips.  “Out of love, out of repentance from the women’s suicide, the hunter also followed suit. Sheesh, finally, the woodcutter also committed suicide in the same manner.” Disbelief coats the tone of her voice. “The powers above turned the three spirits into deities called Ong Tao. But our Chinese Kitchen God is called Zao Jun, also Zao Shen.”

I push my empty plate to one side. “Delicious, prawns are very fresh.” I pluck a piece of Kleenex tissue from a nearby box and wipe my lips.  “Yeah, Ripley’s Believe It Or Not wouldn’t even buy this story.” I crumple the tissue into a ball and leave it on my empty plate “Though not often, I’ve seen our Kitchen God depicted with two wives. Why?”

Sifu Sabrina crosses her legs.  “The legend goes like this. Zao Jun left his wife for a younger vixen, err woman. He later became blind, got dumped by his mistress. While begging for food, he chanced upon his wife’s new home.” My BFF puts her fork down on her empty plate, releases a whisper of a burp and rests both palms on the counter. “You want Chinese tea? Tikguanyin.” Her gaze hops to a nearby ceramic pot and I nod. “Out of pity, the wife took care of him. Later, Zao Jun recovered from his blindness, recognized his wife. He got so remorseful that he leapt into the kitchen fireplace.” Sifu Sabrina fills two cups with Tikguanyin tea, glides one cup to me with a delicate palm.   So, that’s why he’s sometimes depicted as having two wives. They help him record our doings.”

I take a swig of the tea and an exhale seeps through my lips. “Why you don’t have the Kitchen God?”

The almond shape of Sifu Sabrina’s eyes thin with apparent annoyance. “Like I said, women can’t pray to the Kitchen God.”

“Naughty, naughty.” The bite in my tone vibrates with jest. “You don’t have Kitchen God, so your bad deeds are not reported.”

“Hey, look at other side of the coin” Sobriety steals over Sifu Sabrina’s features. “Good deeds are also not reported, right?  So, the absence of the Kitchen God is like a double-edged sword.” Sifu Sabrina hops down from the stool, her breasts wobbling like jelly from the impact of landing on the floor. “Come, let’s eat the bakkwa.”

 /end