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The Honolulu Advertiser

Posted on: Friday, May 11, 2001

The Homebody Chronicles

A winning recipe for Mother's Day

By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer

Illustration by Jon Orque • The Honolulu Advertiser

It was all planned out.

A five-course meal that included two entrées, an appetizer, a vegetable dish and dessert. All Mom's favorites.

I figured I'd try a new recipe, something from my mom's library of cookbooks. Sure, she's a phenomenal cook, but Mom collects cookbooks more than she actually uses them. It's obvious from the select tattered book covers that she really only uses a couple of them; the rest just sit there and look pretty.

So I made a morning of it, flipping through the glossy pages, marveling at the wondrous dishes that called for ingredients such as chanterelles, haricots verts and feta. Nothing with Spam, Yoshida Gourmet Sauce or aji.

The ingredients enough were daunting. Where do you buy kaffir lime leaves or palm sugar or Tahitian vanilla beans, split lengthwise and scraped?

I decided to leave the decision up to my mom, who was going to be on the receiving end of this meal anyway. But in typical parental fashion, she raised her shoulders and said, "I don't care. Whatever you want to make."

This didn't help me.

A home-cooked meal was my attempt at giving her something meaningful for Mother's Day. I didn't want to succumb to the extreme commercialism of the holiday, throwing my money at florists and chocolate specialists.

She's been telling us for years, "There is absolutely nothing I need." And there's some truth to that. She's retired, so she doesn't need new Liberty House outfits or extra-strength pantyhose. She can't eat chocolate, so Godiva was out. She's over 50, so she's already accumulated every kitchen gadget, Tupperware and handbag possible.

Practical is her middle name. She's not impressed by expensive cashmere shawls or diamond earrings. Dolce & Gabbana may as well be an Italian folk duo to her. She'd prefer a gift certificate for Longs Drugs than to Paul Brown.

I think she's secretly embarrassed by Mother's Day, a holiday that puts her smack dab in the center of attention. It's not her thing. Because everything she does comes from an entirely unselfish heart.

So I decided to do something special for her, something that would take a little more effort than dropping 50 bucks on some kitchen utensil at Williams-Sonoma. That's more from the wallet than the heart.

My mom is a superhero. Even after working a full day at the office, she would prepare a feast every night. Portuguese bean soup, grilled salmon, pork tofu — there wasn't a dish she couldn't make, or one that we wouldn't eat. And everything was from scratch, down to the shell for her homemade ravioli. And she loved to bake. Anything. Bread pudding, butter mochi, manju, cream puffs, lemon bars. We could've gone into business.

But what amazed me the most was that in between sautéeing or basting, she would finish two loads of laundry, wash dishes, water the plants, feed the dog and answer the puzzle on "Wheel of Fortune."

Preparing a meal for my mom was more than just whipping up something easy, something pre-packaged, just add water please. She deserved so much more than that, a dinner equivalent to a Prada bag.

So I set the date: Monday. Be home. And don't cook anything.

But I got home late, around 6:15 p.m., a half-hour after our family usually eats. I didn't have time to go grocery shopping or prepare a laborious meal. As I cursed myself for being the worst daughter in the world, my Mom just smiled. "Ready?"

For the next 40 minutes, we thawed, diced, stirred, poured, microwaved, according to a reliable recipe for chili chicken.

As I floured the chicken and prepared the dipping sauce, my mom boiled corn and set the table. I washed dishes, she rinsed.

And that's when I realized it wasn't about the dinner. My mom didn't need lobster or caviar to feel loved, like she didn't need the Dooney & Burke wallet or Seiko watch. Just having the family sitting together over slightly overcooked chicken nuggets and soy beans was enough for her.

Because, like everything she does, the effort came from the heart.

Advertiser staff writer Catherine E. Toth aspires to cook like her mom — but without all the effort.