Chicken Soup for the Family

One of the first dishes my stepmother taught me to cook was chicken soup. I wasn't born a cook, nor did I grow up bustling in the kitchen like other good and dutiful daughters. I didn't know how to cook when I got married. I only acquired the know hows later on, in the midst of organized chaos of caring for three young kids.

My father had always nagged,

"No matter how highly educated you are, you're still going to be in the kitchen!"I know that sounds rather chauvinistic, but I personally think it's true, even though it's not necessarily a wife's duty. Some Sundays were 'market' days, and he would call me to our outdoor kitchen and teach me how to clean squids and shrimps. He never did teach me to gut a fish though, and I learned this the hard way in 1997, when I was all alone here in the United States. Suffice it to say, it took a lot of willpower for me to actually ward off the thought that the fish was going to jump up and bite me while I was trying to gingerly touch its skin. Now, whenever I have to gut fish, I call the kids, and we would have a science lesson right there by the kitchen sink. It's then their turn to scrunch up their faces, and express disgust, amazement, and excitement.

I had waited for S to grow at least as tall as me before I inducted her into the kitchen for some 'stove' tasks, and now she is already taller than me. So I taught her how to fry rice, noodles, and last week, make chicken soup. When I was in the kitchen, trying to help out, my stepmother and grandmother would make me do boring tasks like peeling onions.


I passed down that legacy to the kids, and before long, all three were at the table, newspaper laid out, cutting board on top, and peeling carrots, onions, garlic, and slicing and mincing them. I even let them blend what needed to be blended for other dishes I was cooking.

My mother had said, pertaining to cooking,

"It's not something you need a degree for, it's something you can learn easily enough on your own."

She had expressed regret over not inducting my younger sister into the kitchen when my sister showed interest, but also justified it by saying that it was best for my sister to focus on getting an education first, thus her statement above.

I have to say I disagree with that sentiment, with all due respect, because growing up to be an adult is not just about getting an education. I couldn't help but think of what Mona UmmIbrahim's post titled 'Calculus or Laundry?' when talking about this issue. It was a hilarious post, but very true.

Hubby had done a paper on education being an asset to homemakers in this era, which I had helped edit. In it, he argued that education can be used to generate 'income' as a homemaker utilizes her organization skills, tech-savviness, and educated background in general to help manage the household budget, and save money in the process. His argument focused on education being an income generator, but I couldn't help noticing that both education and life skills are important in a homemaker. As someone who had to acquire life skills on her own, I would naturally put more value on life skills. And that affects how I mother my children.

I realize now that it's way livelier if I harangue them all, and bid them to come to the kitchen when I need to cook. Three extra pair of hands is a lot of help to a harried mother, though years ago, I wouldn't have thought this. I used to shoo them from the kitchen because it was much easier for me to do everything myself, but I have forced myself to include them despite the mess and distraction, because I consider it part of mothering and educating them.

S practically made the chicken soup herself, with my verbal instructions. Of course, I prepared the chicken pieces, and as she stirred them in together with the sauteed minced onions, garlic, ginger and whole spices, she cringed, winced, and exclaimed,

"Eww! aghh..!"

I suppose she felt like she was cooking cut up body parts, which in fact she was, except they were chicken body parts. My mother's version of chicken soup was to pour in water into the pot after the sauteed ingredients turned fragrant and let the water boil before dumping the chicken pieces in. This was so the soup would be less murky, as the boiling water would quickly cook the chicken. I taught S my stepmother's version, just because I wanted her to feel the fun of stirring uncooked chicken to mingle with the spices, but I guess she doesn't share that love with me.

While the soup was cooking, I had H put the salmon in the oven to broil, and out again. Eating soup with no spice is unheard of, hence the need for this spicy accompaniment.

Alas, Baby Z's eczema flared up as a result of my consuming it. So that means: no more salmon for moi until he's weaned.