My First Gluten Free Cake

I dread going grocery shopping now, because, due to Baby Z's allergies, I have to stay away from anything that has wheat, soy, egg whites, peanuts, dairy, citrus, peas, beans, seafood, and chocolate. The citrus, beans, peas, seafood, and chocolate are just precautions on my side, as advised by a friend whose daughter also has multiple allergies. At least until his immune system matures, it is wise for me to stay away from these food, so he can outgrow the allergies sooner biiznillah.

I realized that I'm fine at home, but it's when we go grocery shopping that it hits me. I can't eat ice cream. I can't have chocolate. I can't have cookies. I can't have cakes. Snacks are limited for me. The chips are my only snacks, and fruits of course. I had lost weight after I started on this elimination diet, and in a way, it's a healthy way of living, because I no longer eat junk food. However, I do crave ice cream and chocolate once in a while, especially when three tubs of Breyers Ice Cream are sitting in the freezer!

So yesterday, we went to Wild Oats as usual, after the kids went swimming. H had a soccer game at 9:30 a.m., and then we went home to get them in their swimming attires, and headed for RPAC. On the way back, we stopped by Wild Oats, and as usual, I was on the lookout for any gluten-free products, and lo and behold, I stumbled upon this baking mix that is gluten, dairy, soy, nuts, casein, and potato free. Better yet, it even was produced in a facility that contains NO wheat,soy, milk, nuts and potato products. I am always irked by disclaimers stating,

"This product was produced in a facility that processes wheat, nuts, soy and eggs,"

on products that are gluten free, or soy free. I had once bought an ice cream that contained nothing Baby Z was allergic to except soy, and he broke out in hives and had a flare up of eczema all over his body. Today, S helped me make the Carrot Cake from this Namaste baking mix, and so far, Baby Z is tolerating it. As for moi,I get to finally eat cake! Alhamdulillah!

Biscake Recipe

As requested, here is the Biscake recipe for whoever is interested.

When my Egyptian friend served us this creamy and very rich dessert, she served it in a glass casserole dish. When I asked her if it had a name, she just shrugged and said no. Curious, I spooned a scoop on my plate. To be honest, the blob on my plate didn't look too appetizing. It was creamy white with light brown lines making haphazard patterns.

As soon as it hit my taste buds, my senses went wild with ecstasy. Okay, maybe that's taking it too far, but it tasted rather like very creamy ice cream. It was chilled. The texture was akin to a moist, fluffy cake. I started with a scoop, but I found myself getting second, third and maybe fourth helpings of it. I couldn't believe something so uncontoured, unrefined, and with no name could taste so good.

I asked her how she made it. She showed me the two main ingredients: the tea biscuit (ULKER) and the Nestle table cream.
I took her instructions and modified it to produce something that is somewhat pleasing to look at. I was excited at the thought. However, that table cream is not too cheap around here, so we limited the frequency of making this chilled dessert with no name. Of course once I set to work, I set the kids to work too.

"We need to name this, kids. What do you think we should call it?"

I don't remember what transpired after that question, but eventually we ended up with Biscake, as it is basically made from biscuits, but tastes like cake.

I have to warn those who are taking this recipe though. I am not a skilled recipe-maker. I have tried jotting down the exact amount of ingredients needed, but they sometimes vary each time, so make sure you have extra ingredients just in case. I have had to send hubby to the store to get more cans of table cream in the midst of making the Biscake.

Biscake Recipe

1 packet of the Ulker tea biscuits
3/4 cans of Nestle table cream
1-2 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk

*a cake pan with removable bottom (cheesecake pan), or any container

Directions:
1. Pour all contents of table cream cans into a big bowl
2. Add in the sweetened condensed milk and stir till thoroughly combined
3. Dip each biscuit in the cream, making sure to have it thoroughly coated
4. Arrange biscuits in container/cake pan, creating your own design
5. Cover and chill overnight
6. When ready to serve, depending on what container it's made in, it can be scooped out or presented as a cake (if using the cake pan with removable bottom)

*I was into cake decorating. Well, I still am, except I don't do it anymore due to complicated logistics. So when I was about to modify the recipe, my mind sought to make it such that I could utilize the arrangements of the biscuits to create a design. I also figured that I could use my pans with removable bottom so I could serve it like a cake rather than serving it like ice cream or pudding. Just the thought of that would-be design sent shivers of excitement up my fingers.

So if you do use a pan with removable bottom, when you are about to take the 'cake' out, run a knife along the sides of the pan, and loosen the sides of the pan so the cake is left resting on the bottom of the pan. And voila! You have a beautiful masterpiece!

As I was browsing in the 'Halal' store, I noticed a chocolate version of the Ulker tea biscuits. The possibilities of designs gushed like a river went wild through my mind. Unfortunately, I have yet to try it out, and seeing how I can't even consume dairy now, I don't know when that will be.

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.

To Cook Like a Man

I used to cook lunch and dinner everyday after fajr, while hubby gave the three kids their morning baths before he went to campus. My days were freer that way, as I didn't have to worry about toddlers tugging my skirt while I was at the stove, or babies crying demanding to be nursed while I was sauteing onions. It was the perfect arrangements, such that I was able to workout everyday for about an hour while all three napped.

Then my 'perfect' world came to an end when I realized that they no longer wanted to take naps. I no longer had that 'me time'. When I started to formally homeschool, I would still cook in the morning, but that was when S was still of preschool age. Once all three were of school-going age, things began to change for me. I no longer find that I could cook in the morning, as the curriculum in OHVA seems to pressure you into doing so many activities, that you are left gasping for air. Last week, I discovered, very joyfully I might add, that I'm not the only one feeling this way. A fellow homeschooler (Nn) from out of town dropped by for a visit, and we talked about online charter schools.

It turned out that her experience is the same as mine. We feel the same kind of pressure, and we both feel like it's a chore. When I was at the Texas Dawah Conference, I met another homeschooler who is about to switch from traditional homeschooling to homeschooling with an online charter school. From her point of view, she thought that it would give her more time to focus on the Islamic studies, if the secular part of the curriculum is all set and prepared for her. For both Nn and me, on the other hand, we feel that the curriculum poses too much of a constraint of a 'school at home' setting than the more relaxed homeschooling.

At any rate, I am ready to switch from 'school at home' to an eclectic homeschooling, inshaallah. From what I read, most homeschoolers go through phases of trying out what's best for them, and usually they all would start with a set curriculum.

I find that cooking is the biggest deal for me, when managing my time, especially with babies around. Even with big kids, I feel somewhat guilty if they have to wait for me to finish cooking before they could eat. Now however, ever since the arrival of Baby Z, things just grew more hectic with the cooking, especially when we found out that he is allergic to a lot of stuff. Since I am breastfeeding, I was advised by a friend who has a daughter with multiple allergy, to stay off the food Baby Z is allergic to. So I am heeding her advice, so that inshaallah Baby Z's immune system will develop well enough so that he can outgrow the allergies as soon as maybe age 4/5 if not sooner. I met a lot of people who had such allergies when they were children, and they told me that they finally outgrew them at ages 4/5. So I truly hope Baby Z will also outgrow his allergies around that age or even sooner, inshallah.

The kids love Nasi Lemak, which is rice cooked in coconut milk. It's usually eaten with a spicy accompaniment we call Sambal, usually comprising of seafood like shrimps or squids, but since I couldn't eat those, I substituted the seafood with eggplants. The kids call it 'Pedas Eggplant' (spicy eggplants), and even though they sometimes come at me with,

"Why do Malaysian have to eat spicy food anyway?

and

"Why are Malaysian food so spicy?"

they do love the spicy Eggplant Sambal and the spicy Boiled-Eggs Sambal. Those two are the only sambals that they would eat heartily, without a word of complaint. I however, miss my seafood.

I used to skin my chickens before cooking them, to cut down on the bad fat, but now, I don't have the time to do so. As I hate deep frying, I have taken to broiling chicken instead. Recently, I have even taken to boiling chicken legs with spices, brushing some oil over them and then broiling them until they're brown. That's actually how the Indonesian Ayam Goreng is made, except I threw in whatever spices I fancy in the boiling water, rather than abiding by a recipe.

Seeing that Baby Z might be allergic for a few more years, I guess I'll have to 'cook like a man' and go where none has gone before, in the world of cooking, for whoever heard of Nasi Lemak with Sambal Terung(Spicy Eggplant) and Ayam Goreng(Fried Chicken)?

Blueberry Pancakes

N was doing Study Island when she came across a Blueberry Pancake recipe which she and S apparently copied down onto their small white boards. It has been a while since they have done any baking, especially since my elimination diet restricts me from a lot of baked goods that would usually contain eggs and milk. However, the kids are totally capable of baking without me now. When I asked N why they don't bake anymore, she said,

"But S wouldn't let us do the fun stuff."

Hmm... that sounds rather familiar.

When I asked S why they don't bake anymore, she said,

"There's no time."

I guess that is true. Ever since we decided to finish up OHVA, it's just been hectic.

It was Saturday morning, and hubby had apparently told them that they could make the pancakes, or at least hinted for them to make the pancakes themselves.

I was listening to Dr. Hesham Al-Awadi's lecture 'Children Around the Prophet' while crocheting the baby blanket, and hubby was sleeping on the kids bed. H popped in and asked hubby about the pancake. Hubby muttered something like,

"Begin without me and finish without me."

H dashed back downstairs, and a few minutes later, I smelled something from the stove. As much as I hate being interrupted, I forced myself to stop crocheting to check out if they're burning the house down. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I came across three chidlren huddled in front of the stove, some standing on the step stool. S of course was the master chef in charge of flipping the pancakes, while H ladled the batter. Both H and S claimed,

"N didn't help much," but as I stood there watching them, she somehow busied herself with the pancake batter.

Baby Z had been downstairs with them, and while I looked around the kitchen, marveling at the kids' independence, I peered at Baby Z, apparently doing his own stuff on the couch.

I bounded back upstairs and brought my crochet downstairs. I continued my crocheting on the couch. The kids took their time, and before long, they were sitting at the table enjoying their hard-earned reward:

Peanut Butter Chips Pancake

A BIG Thanks is in order

During the Texas Dawah Convention, S spent time in the MIST Jr. program. She scowled and frowned and stretched her face to unimaginable vertical lengths.

"I hate dodgeball!"

Everytime we would ask her how her day was, she would respond with either a scowl or a slight smile.

Scowl = bad day
Slight smile = it wasn't too bad

It turned out, the only thing she really didn't like was dodgeball. There was a time when I was walking her and Baby Z to the KidZone, while hubby dropped N and H off at their age groups room respectively. Baby Z was crying, and I had to rush off to the lectures, so we asked her if she could stay with Baby Z in Baby Z's babysitting room and put him to sleep. She nodded eagerly. However, as we paced the hallways, Baby Z fell asleep in his stroller.Knowing how she hated dodgeball, I asked her, as we approached Baby Z's babysitting room,

"Do you wanna go to MIST Jr, or do you want to stay with Baby Z?"

She didn't answer right away, but indicated from her body language that she would prefer to go to MIST Jr. So off to MIST Jr. she went, while I wheeled Baby Z to his babysitting room.

On one of those days, she told me that they were making a big THANKS exhibit for the parents, and that each of them had to make a card for each parent, thanking each parent for one particular thing.

"I made one for Abi and one for you," she said, a shy smile peeking through.

"So what'd you thank me for?" I teased her, cajoling her into runing the surprise.

"I'm not telling," her smile grew.

"How about Abi?" I asked again.

"I'm not telling," she persisted.

"Abi's has a heart on it," she suddenly offered.

"Oh, and mine doesn't?!" I pretended to be hurt.

"Come on, S, what'd you thank me for?"

"You'll have to look for it,"she said.

"But how will I find it if I don't know what it is?" I reasoned.

"You''ll have to find it," she said yet again, becoming more and more indignant at keeping the surprise intact.

So on the day the THANKS was finally put up, I went her and Baby Z. They had put it up on the main lobby of the convention floor. I looked through all of the cards trying to find hers. We giggled through some, for some kids had written,
"Thank you for the shorts and shirts." And we marveled at some, for some kids had done really beautiful artwork on their card. And then I pounced on hers.

Guess which one's for whom? And why do I feel like I got the less better one?

Going Bananas!

Ever since the elimination diet, I've been forced to make my own snacks in order to preserve my sanity. Trust me, between craving things I can't eat and watching hubby and kids munch chocolate and slurp ice cream, I am this much from going bananas!

However, seeing that homeschooling takes up a lot of mental power and kitchen and housekeeping time, it just makes it much more difficult for me to do these extra 'cooking' in the kitchen, not to mention the high maintenance babe, so I had to employ S to do some frying for me.



After a while, I left S by herself to do the frying, after telling her to drop small blobs of the banana-coconut milk-flour batter in the hot oil. I went upstairs to put Baby Z to sleep, and when I came down, as I looked into the container of the done 'Jemput-Jemput', I noticed that S had made big blobs anyway. Well, for a ten year-old and a first time Jemput-Jemput maker, she did very good!

Jemput-jemput (banana fritters), or what my pseudo-Malay kids call, "Jumput-jumput."

Of Porridge and Cougar

Today is turning out to be a relaxing day. Yesterday was dissertation-editing day which extended all the way to this morning.

We didn't have any food for lunch, well not enough for everyone anyway.

"Come on, S. I'm going to teach you how to make porridge!" I called out as I marched down the stairs.

"Uhhh," S responded, continuing to crochet her 'rug' while sitting on the couch.

"I want to!" N chirped, bounding into the kitchen, as I set the stockpot on the stove.

"Okay, come. Oh. we're gonna need carrots. Here, peel the carrots," I handed her two carrots, and she took out pieces of newspaper to peel the carrots over.

"Ok, we're going to saute or sweat the onions," I chanted. Alhamdulillah I had some chopped onions bagged in a ziploc baggie. I hate cutting onions.

"Get the stool, N, and stir this while I grate the carrots."

She stood on our kitchen step ladder and stirred the sauteing chopped onions.

"Add the chicken!" I hollered over the stove fan.

N dumped the whole ziploc bag of cut up broiled chicken I had frozen a few days back into the pot.

As she stirred the contents of the pot, I almost forgot to add the washed rice. Rice, coriander, cumin, salt, a whole anise star, black pepper, and soon a nice spicy fragrant infused the kitchen.

This is one of the things I love about winter. Back in 2004, we had some bouts of heavy snow, and I still recall that particular winter with fondness. I'm not that fond of the cold, but when you turn up the heat with a few cups of steaming hot cocoa, few bowls of hearty red lentil soup, and a bustling kitchen, you can almost forget that it's below freezing outside where the trees stand bare against the unrelenting winter wind.

It's not snowing yet, but since the trees have already shed their leaves, I consider it winter. It troubles me to see trees looking so bare, as it reminds me of everything gloomy and somber. Though I must say, winter is a very inspiring season for writing.

Pretty soon, our stockpot of chicken rice porridge was bubbling with vigor.

"N, come. see how the rice are fattening up?" I spooned up a few rice grains to show her the transformation.

"With porridge, we want the rice to absorb so much water that the break up and make it all porridgy," I continued.

She nodded and smiled. Her usual calm and quiet response.

"Ok, I think I'm gonna make my agar-agar too," I announced.

"Do you think I should make the chagar-chagar or the creamy caramel?"

"The caramel!" they shouted in unison.

"What are we gonna name it?" I asked them.

"Cragar!" piped S.

"Nah...please, not that," I said.

"Ooh, how about Creamy Cougar?" I exclaimed.

"Ugh!" S made one of her blegh face.

"A cougar is kind of golden, right?" I asked her. She nodded.

"Ok, we'll call it Golden Cougar then!"

The name was decided.

I proceeded to make the burnt sugar, added that to the pot of dissolving agar-agar, had S throw in a Pandan leaf, and took out a can of coconut milk.

By the time I was done, we had a pyrex dish of cream colored agar-agar, our Golden Cougar.

As I'm typing this, N suddenly came to me and asked me,

"Ummi, if you were to make a recipe book, the porridge that we made, would you name it Perfect Porridge?"

"Hmm..I don't know. Would you?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said.

So, Perfect Porridge it is then. A relaxing day of Perfect Porridge and Golden Cougar.

Elimination Diet

As a result of my elimination diet, I have come up with some weird substitute snacks for myself. I craved chocolate, and seeing the family indulging in chocolate only made me crave it more, but to my dismay, when I looked at he ingredients, all of them have dairy.

I haven't eaten ice cream for over a month either. I crave that too, but I'll be patient.

I have been eyeing the cocoa sitting on my wall shelf in the kitchen for quite some time now. That, and the seaweed plus coconut milk would make a perfect chocolate snack for me. So I made my own cool, creamy, chocolate jello snack, using good ole Asian seaweed.

Results: oh la la! I've never been more proud of myself for inventing my own recipe!

"What do you think I should name taht chocolate agar-agar?' I asked the girls as I was typing this.

"Chagar-Chagar," S responded.

"Because it's chocolate agar-agar," she continued.

So, Chagar-Chagar it is!

Chagar-Chagar

8 cups water
2 cups coconut milk
1 45g packet of seaweed
3 estimated tablespoons cocoa
a dumpload of sugar (I didn't think of measuring it when I dumped it in)


1. Bring 8 cups of water plus a dumpload of sugar to a boil
2. Throw in the whole packet of agar-agar (seaweed)
3. Stir it till the agar-agar completely dissolves
4. In 2 cups of coconut milk, stir in the cocoa until the cocoa is dissolved
5. Pour the creamy chocolatey coconut milk into the pot of sweetend dissolved agar-agar
6. Stir till combined
7. Pour into dish and let cool to set
8. Cut into desired shapes

I had myself a chocolatey snack for a few days.

Today, we had another try at Kuih Sagu. Again, I overestimated the amount of water to the amount of tapioca pearls, so we ended up with a Kuih Sagu that is not that easy to slice, so we spooned it and rolled it in grated coconut. Still oh la la!


I wonder what else I can 'cook' up. I'll probably end up with my own cook book of 'elimination diet' at the end of this journey. All thanks to Baby Z who now has impetigo in his face, poor boy!

Appeasing Ummi

"Uh oh! It's open," S announced, as she closed the oven door after peeking in at the baking Fatayer.

"Ugh...I knew that would happen," I said.

I hate making Karipap, because for some reason, my fingers are stiff when it comes to anything that requires encasing filling and pinching the seams closed. I've had karipaps that open up while being deep fried, and boiling water turning brown from the leaking palm sugar filling inside poorly seamed onde-onde. However, that didn't prevent me from trying to make this Fatayer, even when I knew there would be filling and seaming involved.

While I was spooning the spinach filling in the circle of dough, H rolled out the other ball of dough for us to cut more circles out of.

Making the Fatayer had become a family affair. All cooking nowadays have become a family affair as there was always someone needed to tend to the crying Baby Z if it happens to be at the time I am in the kitchen. Sometimes, I would just direct S verbally while I sat on the couch nursing Baby Z. And don't you know it, Baby Z is a relaxed nurser; he sure does take his own sweet time.

"Ooh you can see the inside. It's gonna open up in the oven, I just know it!" I muttered, exasperated.

"Oh, I've seen some at the masjid that are open a little bit," said H.

"Really?"

H nodded, assuring me that I was doing just fine. That made me feel slightly better.

If the ones sold at the masjid have that flaw too then mine are not so bad, I thought.

"Oh..I hope they don't burn in the oven," I said, announcing another worry.

"Oh I've seen black ones at the masjid," H said.

"Really?" I asked again, disbelieving, but feeling better by the minute.

"Yeah, some are really black!" he chuckled.

As the oven door banged shut after S's announcement of the opene-up Fatayer in the oven, H again made a remark,

"I've never seen anything like that at the masjid."

Bad Instructions

David spent between $8 and $16. What two things did he buy?

H's answer was an item that costs $15.99. As I corrected his work, I pointed out his mistake.

"Oh!! Argh! They asked it wrong!"

He went away stomping in anger.

I was speechless. I guess I kind of agree with him.

Later on, I was making Kuih Sagu, and was continuously stirring the thickening tapioca pearls. There were still bits that were not translucent (a sign that they're not cooked yet). So I lept stirring. After a while I employed little hands to do the arduous stirring for me.

"How come you don't know when it's done?" asked H when I told him that I had made it before but it didn't turn out good because there were uncooked bits in it.

"Well the recipe said to stop when it's translucent, but it didn't say that there might be some that won't be translucent so I took it all out," I explained.

"Hmm, bad instructions," he said.

I had to stifle a laughter. I always thought some recipes are lacking in explanations that would have helped avoid disaster. It's only through repeated and persistent tries that I have been able to make some traditional Malaysian desserts, after years of experience in the kitchen. One time, I realized that the reason my Apam Balik didn't turn out well was because I didn't put enough grease in the mold.

Our Kuih Sagu turned out good tasting, but lacking in structure. Instead of being sliceable, it was spoonable. However, now know that you just have to keep stirring as you pour the washed and trained tapioca pearls into the pot of boiling sugared water. The kids loved it.

Next try (inshaallah) : kuih lopes.

If it doesn't turn out, I know what H will probably say, "Bad instructions."