Soon, fall will softly enter Egypt. Constantly on the lookout for the first signs of a brisk wind, it comes to me that I will not be here to feel its playful push and will instead be returning to the tropics where life fluctuates between torrential thunderstorms and fleeting glimpses of a Cairene sunny morning. But what, I wonder, will I miss most about Cairo this time around? What are the racing thoughts that will chase me all the way back to my white kitchen in Kuala Lumpur?
The dusty heat. The blistering kitchens. The ghee softening my skin, tending to my hands as I roll round mounds of ghorayebah, my Eid cookie of choice; and laughter at everyday trivialities, bouncing off the walls and extensive but tidy red kitchen counters, echoing the comforting voices of my mother, my sister and Umm Khaled, our cleaning lady who cannot, after 15 years, be considered anything less than family.
These are memories tailored to my liking, reminding me that enticing food never began in big kitchens with long sleek counters and first-rate equipment. Instead, it happens with generations interested in nourishing the warm homes of family, friends and neighbors alike; my two home countries, Egypt and India, both presenting ancient cuisines, stoked by the unrelenting fires of a single burner and the dedicated talent of women commonly deemed uneducated, unrefined and uncoiffed.
Remembering those giant numbers of tiny tacky kitchens cornered into unevenly-walled flats, I come to the conclusion that maybe I should add an extra thing to be grateful for: my relatively small but modern kitchen space, complete with smooth gliding drawers, the much-hated smoke detector and enough counter space for both appliances and some serious dough-rolling. Am I really that lucky?
You might not see the importance of comparing yourself to those laborious ladies but in my possibly ignored opinion, that would be your loss.
It is a new belief of mine that you cannot truly understand what it is to churn out dish after delicious dish before standing in the heat and battling to find space to place your serving dishes, until you try to save your sweat from dripping into your steaming stew while avoiding that extra footstep back for fear of your pot tilting over its bad support, until you feel faint but continue to push through because that is what you need to do to feed your loved ones or the guests of those loved ones.
It has nothing to do with want.
Tonight set foot in your kitchen. Buy a pumpkin, cook it down and celebrate the gradual breaking of the nighttime heat. Serve it cold and honor the summer sun. Remember the plight of your people. Remember that you might have moved on but that there are others that are still trying to keep up with our tiresome cultural norms throughout their seemingly eternal need. Count your blessings. Remember the simple pleasures. Breathe.
Butternut Squash Brûlée
You’ll need:
1 cup of butternut squash purée (I roasted a 1 kg one and puréed it. You’ll need half of that.)
3 large egg yolks
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1/2 cup of hot heavy cream left to cool
1 full teaspoon of cinnamon
1/2 a teaspoon of allspice
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
A small pinch of salt
1 heaped tablespoon of sugar, per ramekin
Preheat your oven to 175 degrees Celsius. In a bowl, combine the egg yolks and the brown sugar and whisk until you get a nice deep color and a relatively smooth consistency. This took me around 1.5-2 minutes. Pour in the cream slowly while whisking continuously. Blend in the vanilla, cinnamon and all spice until all is combined. Add the butternut squash and stir until it all comes together. Divide the mixture between 6 ramekins. Place the ramekins in a roasting dish and pour water in until it reaches halfway. Make sure you don’t get water into your ramekins. Bake for 30 minutes. It should be set but should tremble a little in the center. You’re looking for a relatively firm jiggle. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours and up to 3 days. When you’re ready to serve, sprinkle a layer of sugar. Make sure it’s spread evenly. You can either use a propane torch to caramelize the top or you could place it under a hot grill for up to 5 minutes at the most. Make sure to watch it carefully. Allow it to rest for a few minutes and serve.
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