I jab the doorbell button of Sifu Sabrina’s condo and the door swings inward. My mouth dangles open! Sifu Sabrina is standing in the doorway, garbed in a see-through negligee dress. Gee… I can see her black panties and the nipples of her full breasts on loan from Jessica Simpson.
“Come on in.” A cheery smile skims Sifu Sabrina’s kissable lips. “It’s safe to leave your shoes outside.”
Two days ago, Sifu Sabrina phoned to ask whether I could feature her mother’s stuffed duck feet recipe in my blog. According to Sifu Sabrina, her mother won the Iron Chef Kuala Lumpur title in 2015. I agreed.
I catch a whiff of citrus and blueberry from Sifu Sabrina’s perfume as I step inside the living room.
Sifu Sabrina closes the door and patters away on dainty feet. "Come, my mum’s in the kitchen.”
We
cross the living room, the dining room and enter the kitchen. A silver-haired
woman rises from an island countertop and waves at me. “Hello, I’m Suzanne.”
Her voice is like that of an old mother hen's.
Suzanne pumps my hand, gripping it like an iron vice. Ouch! I wrench my hand away. Her hand feels like a bag of nuts and bolts! I sit down opposite her, pull out my MP4 player from my hip pocket and place it on the countertop.
“Give
me your recipe first, then you can cook.”
Sifu Sabrina joins us at the countertop, sitting beside Suzanne. “Fire away, Mum!” She points to an oven with a red-nailed hand. “The duck feet are roasting in the oven.”
I flick my gaze at Sifu Sabrina’s cleavage. My gaze moves upward to her lips, glistening
red like fresh oil paint on canvas. My gaze shifts further up to her mascared eyes and long eyelashes which need no
help from Shisedo.
Suzanne raps the countertop with her knuckles. “Oei! Look here, please!”
I tear my gaze away from the bombshell with great difficulty.
“Sabrina, you better go change” Suzanne waves the leathery fingers of her mottled hands. “You’re distracting him.”
Sifu Sabrina goes away.
Suzanne clears her throat. “Now, let me get to the ingredients.
Twelve
fingers of Chinese roast pork, each 6 cm.
Twelve
strips of pork fat, each strip 6 cm.
Twelve
fingers of Chinese turnip, each 6 cm. All parboiled and drained.
Several
lengths of duck’s intestines. They should be washed and cut into 10-cm lengths
for tying.” She allows the second hand on my wrist watch to tick twice. “Now, for the seasoning ingredients.
1
½ tablespoonful of cooking wine
2
teaspoons of dark soy sauce
1/4
teaspoon of monosodium glutamate
2
teaspoons sesame oil
3
tablespoons soy sauce
2
teaspoon sugar
1
tablespoon water.”
Sifu Sabrina returns to the countertop wearing a cropped T-shirt and sits crossed-legged on the chair. I flash my gaze at her. She smiles. I smile back at her. I jerk my gaze back to the old gal.
Suzanne
continues,
“Method of preparation
Season
the pork fat, turnips and roast pork in seasoning ingredients for 20 minutes.
Wrap
a piece of roast pork, pork fat and turnip to the hollow of each duck’s feet
and secure by tying with duck’s intestine.
Place
all the stuffed duck feet on a roasting tray and roast for them for 15 minutes
in an oven.
Baste
them with the drippings.
Serve
with drippings poured over it.”
I shift in my seat. “One question. Duck’s intestine is difficult to get. Any substitute?”
“Sausage skin can be substituted.”
“Thank
you, Stuzanne.” I switch off my MP4 player.
An oven dings from somewhere in the kitchen. Eyes lighting up, Suzanne sniffs and rises to her feet. “Ah, my stuffed duck's feet are ready.” She waddles to the oven sitting atop a counter at one wall. “You can try them.”
She
returns to the island countertop with a platter of stuffed duck’s feet and puts
it on top. The aroma of roasted meat swirls in the air and salts it.
Using a fork, I spear a piece, bring it to my mouth and chew on it.
Suzanne’s eyes brim with anticipation. “Delicious?”
“Sheesh! It’s tough, like leather! The duck's feet should have been boiled longer.”
Suzanne strides to a wall rack, grabs a frying pan off it and returns to her former spot. “What did you say?” Eyes glinting, she raises the frying pan with both hands, ready to use it as a club. "Tough? Don't you dare write this in your blog!" Her voice sounds like a tiger's growl.
“Eeeek!”
Sifu Sabrina shrieks. “Don’t, Mum!
My heart skips a beat. “Err, it’s excellent, crispy -– that’s what I meant. Full of flavour.”
The frying pan goes back to being a frying pan.
Suzanne picks up a stuffed duck’s foot with her hand and, using her teeth, tears at it. Her top denture slips out of her mouth! “Oh my God!” It drops to the countertop with a clatter, amidst the giggle of Sifu Sabrina, her eyes sparking with humour.
