Read somewhere that there are 4 types of man:
He who does not know he does not know
He who knows he does not know
He who does not know he know
He who knows he know.
With full humility, I claim the first sentence.
Its been more than 12 years now. The trays that had been wrapped in old newspapers and kept in one of the boxes marked as 'kitchenware', were brought out and unwrapped. They are then washed lovingly and left to dry in the sun, neatly arranged as only a woman can. After a full day soak, they are then brought in to be washed again. Only this time, a cloth was used to wipe them dry.
I stood transfixed, lost for words, as she moved about preparing the necessary items for the session early this morning. This, was the day I had eagerly waited for...a day that has not been one like it for more than 12 years. Due to her age and sometimes aching body, she had to postpone her coming out of retirement from a fortnight ago to today. And it was only when she felt her body was up to the occasion, did she began issuing orders to buy the necessities - she had, in fact, forced her body to do so as tomorrow, on the 5th of August, is an occasion she had marked to give something special to a lady whom she have yet to meet, but seem to have already like.
The recipe she has in hand might not be recognised by many of the younger generation today. Yet, apart from the green fingers she posses, some of her cooking and delicacies are much sought after by friends and relatives; not to mention her children, that cakapaje bloke, most especially. Interestingly, in this case, her Sultana cookies are not grabbed quickly by her children. Rather, like children, they go for the crust first, leaving the cookies for a later date.
As the sun rose higher, cakapaje volunteered to assist in any manner he can. Knowing his emak well, that she would never delegate any task which she can manage herself, he left the day free from any schedules so he could 'force' her into accepting his helping hand - using the excuse of wanting to learn which melted her resolute. And thus, an apprentice was that cakapaje...for a brief while.
No sooner had he baked a tray of which the results can be seen below, he received a call and had to rush down to Bangsar, leaving emak by herself.
And by the time cakapaje return, the Master had completed several trays already.