I spent the afternoon today making custard for my darling nephews. I couldn't bear the disappointment in their voices last evening when they realized I had planned just jelly for dessert and no custard. So I decided to use an hour of my "free" time (read time when my lil monster sleeps) to make up for the error. As I stood stirring the custard after it had cooked, my mother's instructions kept running in my mind. "You must stir it till its absolutely cool. If you leave it still there will be lumps and malai on top" and that of course was just unacceptable!
I had to stir for a good half hour till the lemon yellow mixture cooled. With each progressing minute I had to use more and more muscle power because the mixture was thickening as it cooled. As I stirred it struck me that as kids all of us used to jostle with my mother for the "privilege" of stirring the custard and I could not help but wonder why we would actually fight to do all this hard work?
When we were young and my mother made custard it was considered an honor to be given this duty to make sure there were no lumps in it. The smoother the mixture the greater the happiness of the stirrer. So we would labor over the bowl of custard with a thick spoon under a blasting fan, praying that there would be no lumps. But now that I do it all by myself, I have to wonder if my mother was not being the quite little Tom Sawyer making us fight to paint the proverbial "white fence". God knows I adore my mum, but I would not put this little cunning past her. Now as a mother I can actually empathize. Who would not relish the opportunity to put all that energy of two growing girls to fruitful use once in a while?
For my mum the reward must have been a job well done and a few minutes of peace while the kids were fruitfully engaged but for me the pleasure was different. My son being too young to help, I rewarded myself with the pleasure of licking the remaining custard off the spoon and the pan, and if I may so myself- it tasted just yummy. So thanks mum for the recipe and all that practice stirring the custard.
I had to stir for a good half hour till the lemon yellow mixture cooled. With each progressing minute I had to use more and more muscle power because the mixture was thickening as it cooled. As I stirred it struck me that as kids all of us used to jostle with my mother for the "privilege" of stirring the custard and I could not help but wonder why we would actually fight to do all this hard work?
When we were young and my mother made custard it was considered an honor to be given this duty to make sure there were no lumps in it. The smoother the mixture the greater the happiness of the stirrer. So we would labor over the bowl of custard with a thick spoon under a blasting fan, praying that there would be no lumps. But now that I do it all by myself, I have to wonder if my mother was not being the quite little Tom Sawyer making us fight to paint the proverbial "white fence". God knows I adore my mum, but I would not put this little cunning past her. Now as a mother I can actually empathize. Who would not relish the opportunity to put all that energy of two growing girls to fruitful use once in a while?
For my mum the reward must have been a job well done and a few minutes of peace while the kids were fruitfully engaged but for me the pleasure was different. My son being too young to help, I rewarded myself with the pleasure of licking the remaining custard off the spoon and the pan, and if I may so myself- it tasted just yummy. So thanks mum for the recipe and all that practice stirring the custard.
No comments:
Post a Comment