to find out.
The man turned to her, but before he could answer, GraceFaith pushed him out and shut
and locked the gate.
“Come on, the food will get cold and then everything will be wasted,” she said, sounding
like a bossy school prefect.
Sharon said, “I don’t believe it. She’s got the key to the back gate but I’ve got
to phone the house if I want to drive in. Can you believe that? Anybody would think
she’s the daughter of the house! You know, GraceFaith got Mabel all worked up before
the party because there was algae in the pool. I told Mabel nobody was going to swim,
but of course she didn’t listen to me. Now look. After all that fuss nobody is swimming
and nobody is eating.”
It was obvious to Aunty Lee that people had, in fact, been eating. Her buffet was
already looking tired in parts. The nasi lemak had been a great hit. The advantage of a nasi lemak buffet was that as long as the rice was kept steaming hot, everything else—crunchy
anchovies and peanuts, folded omelets, otak, fried chicken chops, and fried fish fillets—could be kept warm on heaters. Aunty
Lee took pride in her rice soaked in coconut cream before it was steamed with knotted
bundles of her homegrown pandan (screw pine) leaves and crushed stalks of lemongrass. For today’s buffet, Aunty Lee
had included chicken frankfurters, fried fish cakes, and luncheon meat as well as
a vegetable curry that food purists would have objected to. Still, these side dishes
had come to be part of the Singapore nasi lemak experience and Aunty Lee believed the best menu was one that suited dishes to the
tastes of the eaters. And though it was not part of nasi lemak, guests were clearly enjoying Aunty Lee’s special chicken buah keluak.
“We should let Mabel and Henry know somebody is looking for them,” Aunty Lee said.
“Why?” Sharon asked. “Why should they be bothered just because some nutcase is bugging
them?” she added as GraceFaith joined them.
“Sharon’s always so intense,” GraceFaith said. “I’m not criticizing you, of course.
That’s what Mabel always says: ‘Sharon is so intense.’ The problem with some clients
is they have no respect for boundaries.”
“I have to get something else for Lennie,” Henry Sung said, looking helplessly at
the buffet spread. He picked up a fried chicken wing and looked at it, then put it
back on the warmer. The tray he was holding was smeared with food and there were splashes
of gravy on his trousers. Aunty Lee saw Nina and Cherril cleaning up the rest of the
mess by the steps.
“I’ll take care of that, Dad. Go and change before Mabel sees you.” Sharon Sung took
the tray from her father.
“Let me do that for you,” GraceFaith said.
Sharon snatched the tray back from her without answering.
About the same height as GraceFaith, Sharon looked much thinner in a black dress and
pumps. Yet GraceFaith seemed more comfortable in her body than Sharon was as she smiled,
shrugged, and moved away.
Sharon arranged several bowls on her tray and saw Aunty Lee watching her.
“I don’t suppose you remember me. I’m Sharon Sung. I was in school with Mathilda.”
Sharon Sung had red bloodshot eyes. Aunty Lee hoped that Mathilda, her stepdaughter,
was getting more sleep than this young woman.
“Will he eat chicken buah keluak ? It’s my special dish.”
“He asked for it, apparently. I don’t know if he wants to eat it or throw it at the
maids.”
Aunty Lee watched as Sharon ladled chicken buah keluak into a bowl and added it to her tray along with a plate of rice with fried chicken
drumsticks and fried anchovies. She would have made a good cook, Aunty Lee thought,
seeing how she instinctively arranged the food to its advantage. Too many cooks forgot
that presentation was part of preparation.
“I don’t see why everybody makes such a big fuss about buah keluak . People only think it’s so special because they have to make an
The man turned to her, but before he could answer, GraceFaith pushed him out and shut
and locked the gate.
“Come on, the food will get cold and then everything will be wasted,” she said, sounding
like a bossy school prefect.
Sharon said, “I don’t believe it. She’s got the key to the back gate but I’ve got
to phone the house if I want to drive in. Can you believe that? Anybody would think
she’s the daughter of the house! You know, GraceFaith got Mabel all worked up before
the party because there was algae in the pool. I told Mabel nobody was going to swim,
but of course she didn’t listen to me. Now look. After all that fuss nobody is swimming
and nobody is eating.”
It was obvious to Aunty Lee that people had, in fact, been eating. Her buffet was
already looking tired in parts. The nasi lemak had been a great hit. The advantage of a nasi lemak buffet was that as long as the rice was kept steaming hot, everything else—crunchy
anchovies and peanuts, folded omelets, otak, fried chicken chops, and fried fish fillets—could be kept warm on heaters. Aunty
Lee took pride in her rice soaked in coconut cream before it was steamed with knotted
bundles of her homegrown pandan (screw pine) leaves and crushed stalks of lemongrass. For today’s buffet, Aunty Lee
had included chicken frankfurters, fried fish cakes, and luncheon meat as well as
a vegetable curry that food purists would have objected to. Still, these side dishes
had come to be part of the Singapore nasi lemak experience and Aunty Lee believed the best menu was one that suited dishes to the
tastes of the eaters. And though it was not part of nasi lemak, guests were clearly enjoying Aunty Lee’s special chicken buah keluak.
“We should let Mabel and Henry know somebody is looking for them,” Aunty Lee said.
“Why?” Sharon asked. “Why should they be bothered just because some nutcase is bugging
them?” she added as GraceFaith joined them.
“Sharon’s always so intense,” GraceFaith said. “I’m not criticizing you, of course.
That’s what Mabel always says: ‘Sharon is so intense.’ The problem with some clients
is they have no respect for boundaries.”
“I have to get something else for Lennie,” Henry Sung said, looking helplessly at
the buffet spread. He picked up a fried chicken wing and looked at it, then put it
back on the warmer. The tray he was holding was smeared with food and there were splashes
of gravy on his trousers. Aunty Lee saw Nina and Cherril cleaning up the rest of the
mess by the steps.
“I’ll take care of that, Dad. Go and change before Mabel sees you.” Sharon Sung took
the tray from her father.
“Let me do that for you,” GraceFaith said.
Sharon snatched the tray back from her without answering.
About the same height as GraceFaith, Sharon looked much thinner in a black dress and
pumps. Yet GraceFaith seemed more comfortable in her body than Sharon was as she smiled,
shrugged, and moved away.
Sharon arranged several bowls on her tray and saw Aunty Lee watching her.
“I don’t suppose you remember me. I’m Sharon Sung. I was in school with Mathilda.”
Sharon Sung had red bloodshot eyes. Aunty Lee hoped that Mathilda, her stepdaughter,
was getting more sleep than this young woman.
“Will he eat chicken buah keluak ? It’s my special dish.”
“He asked for it, apparently. I don’t know if he wants to eat it or throw it at the
maids.”
Aunty Lee watched as Sharon ladled chicken buah keluak into a bowl and added it to her tray along with a plate of rice with fried chicken
drumsticks and fried anchovies. She would have made a good cook, Aunty Lee thought,
seeing how she instinctively arranged the food to its advantage. Too many cooks forgot
that presentation was part of preparation.
“I don’t see why everybody makes such a big fuss about buah keluak . People only think it’s so special because they have to make an
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