This year we had the privilege of hosting dinner at our place. Chef Terence ruled the kitchen again this time glazing the oven with honey coated ribs and pasta on the side. Ms. Salad Queen (yours truly) tossed up a Caesar salad, Mommy Ooi brought fish fritters and mash potatoes and Mommy dearest brought desserts.

Fellowship was wonderful, food was rib-a-licking-good and though our dining table extended from wall to wall, we managed to sit 12 people around the table! My personal highlight was having my grandmother there. She turns 89 this November and I am just utterly grateful that God has given her good health all these years and the ability to enjoy occasions like this. Granny has been my pillar of strength and though of recent years her memory has diminish somewhat, I know deep within that she still remembers the precious times we’ve shared. She was my fashion consultant after shopping sprees, watching me parade in my new clothes. When her legs used to be stronger, granny was my walking partner as we diligently and religiously woke up every morning breezing through our usual route. I dearly cherish the times when we would talk each other in the dark until one of us falls asleep (usually she’d beat me to dreamland). And now after I moved out, it is bitter sweet to see granny grow old. She has her stubborn streaks at times and we have to be extra patient with her. It’s part and parcel of aging. Trying to understand her constraints and loving her all the same makes our relationship a lot richer. She’s such a gem and will always be. I would not be who I am if not for the seeds she’s sown in my life.

Such a lot to be thankful about, from now on I not only have one mother to celebrate with, I have three – mom, mom-in-law and granny. My relationship with mom has evolved much over the years. We’ve recognized each other’s temperaments and antics and learnt to communicate around it. We’ve become stronger allies in sharing and supporting one another. We’ve learnt that once a mother and daughter finds a confidante in each other, it can only grow stronger as time goes by. I’ve also learnt that no matter how close I live to my family, I will always miss them, especially mom’s morning kisses and her constant embrace.

All in all, life is a lot richer with a mom-in-law at arm’s reach. I see her tirelessly caring for her family without a word of complaint. Any request is never too difficult to meet. I constantly marvel at the way she juggles between work and the kitchen, cooking top class meals for the family. Her gift of hospitality and mastery at the wok is something I desperately want to glean from. Our relationship too has evolved over the recent years. From being mere acquaintances to someone I’m contented calling mom. I’m truly blessed with a wonderful mom-in-law in whom I’m comfortable being myself and sharing my experiences with.

Blessed beyond words, my moms mean the world to me…

The donut craze is unbelievable. As if a meteor hit the earth, the exponential increase in sales of donuts took Malaysia by surprise (or at least just me). My last recollection of these dough like things was as a child sinking my teeth into sugar sprinkled donuts we found at King’s Confectionary.

Now, it has earned it’s ranks to semi-gourmet dessert. What would be next I wonder? Could “Ham Cheen Peang” – Chinese desert filled with red bean paste follow the same path of revolution? I wonder…

Anyhow, at the mention of donuts, my mind races to the Sunday School Song sung by all time favourite Donut Man.. “Life without Jesus, is like a donut with a hole in the middle of your heart.” Now at every whiff of sweet smelling donuts the tune rings through.

Feast your eyes on yummy donuts… (I hope made your tummy rumble:)

I’m a huge fan of those sold in Him Heang until a ‘shop’ was introduced. I used the word ‘shop’ because it really isn’t a shop. It’s a makeshift house with an extended kitchen specially built to make these biscuits.

Where is it? It’s really difficult to just give you the address because despite the address we took about 20 minutes locating the house. Taking the Parit Buntar exit on the highway, drive into town centre and keep asking. It’s snugged in a quiet unsuspecting housing estate. We even passed the house a few times not thinking it’s the place.

At the hind of the house we entered a different world. (Somewhat like stepping into another world where everything evolves around the bitting, breaking, hitting, kneading and baking of the biscuit.

The supply chain of Fragrant Biscuit. Roll, cut, flatten, put in sugar mixture, roll, squish – next! Note: There were no female species in sight (what happened to women in the kitchen?)

Next to the supply chain is the furnace room.

Dough is stuck to the wall of a heated drum and they sit obediently there until they’re done…

Heat is turned up, dough is baked at precise temperature…

Trays and trays of Fragrant Biscuits ready to be packaged and sent off to coffee shops.