Took this picture a couple of weeks ago.
Actually... it has been almost a month.
A bit unbelievable, but, oy, life.
That's how it is.
If there be one thing that this year has taught me, it is that we sometimes don't focus on the (so-called) small little things in life but instead choose to speak only of the big ones.
Which, now that I think about it, doesn't need to be.
Who said that life had to sound like a breaking story or a news scandal the entire time?
Who said that life's events had to be shocking or stunning or mind boggling?
No doubt, people are generally not so keen on day to day, ordinary content, but life's story is what you write of it, what you share of it, and it can be curated.
It's true; audiences generally prefer adventure, but we have come to a phase where anything of life can be curated and shaped without the creation of extra, dangerous or unnecessary drama.
Like two pieces of steamed flour cakes.
At another time in my life I might not have thought of tutu kuehs as worthwhile content, but if this be my life these days, why should I not let it be?
What's more, in this day and age a tutu kueh has become more than just an object of food.
Gone are the days when this existed as just a tutu kueh of steamed flour with filling.
Now this tiny little steamed flat cake has become a part of us growing up.
A part of heritage history.
The first time I had tutu kueh I was probably five.
I remember the scene.
Mr. Radioman had brought me to the now-demolished hawker center on Hill Street for a late evening dinner. The details of why we were there and how we got there, now I can't remember- it's been 40 years- but I can see still the slightly harsh white fluorescent light over our heads. I also remember the plate of dark Hill Street Char Kuay Teow that he had ordered for us to share.
Near where we sat the tutu kueh stall was still open, so he asked if I wanted some.
I don't remember what I told him.
But I remember what he said to me. "You never eat tutu kueh before ar? Aiyaaa.."
Then off he went and got us some.
It was that night that he taught me how to eat tutu kueh off the small little pandan leaf.
Somehow life became that we didn't get to go back to that Hill Street hawker center again.
But that didn't mean we missed out on this little snack.
We just had it from other places.
Like the pasar malams at the 'hood down below our house. It wasn't very frequent- those night markets- but there have been times when after dinner we went down as a family and, amongst other snacks, bought these tutu kuehs back home to have.
Between the three of us, I've always wished I could have more than two.
What's funny is that, after all this while, I still seem to be having only two.
Perhaps it might be that they're still sold in a bag of five, and so when you're sharing with someone, you get two each, and the third one gets split into two, half each.
This weekend afternoon my friend and I happened to be at the pasar malam outside Marine Parade MRT Station.
A lively place with lively atmosphere, it seemed a bit of a waste if we walked away without buying anything, so we decided on a snack.
There was a lot to choose from, but us being us, we didn't want anything fried, so amongst all the deep fried stuff from the different stalls, choices got narrowed down to the colorful steamed cakes, steamed buttered corn, sweet desserts, or tutu kueh.
We decided on the latter.
It was one of the foods we missed.
Actually, now that I think about it, buying it took a bit of a gamble- we don't know how standards are these days- but tradition marks tradition and the aunty at the stall looked like she had been making and selling tutu kuehs for a long time.
It wasn't merely in the way she made the kueh but more in the fluid, practiced way she handled customers, customers' requests, sieved the flour, lifted the mold, put in the filling, laid the cloth on top of the mold, put the mold back onto the steamer and then placing it all into the plastic bag.
Our three peanut and two gula melaka were in good hands.
$4 for 5 pieces, we carried the little plastic bag by its string over to the hawker center where slowly, carefully, we brought the tutu kuehs out one by one.
They were so good.
It's not a bombastic, whoosh kind of taste, but there is something comforting and assuring about eating hot steamed kuehs like this.
I don't know if it is the warm, clean taste of the soft, yet firm flour cake that breaks off easily when you take the first bite, or if it is the combination of sweet and savory when you eat the filling mushed together with the flour.
I liked how the finely chopped peanuts (with a bit of sugar) rolled around with the flour.
I also liked how the sweet of palm sugar gula melaka brought out the pure clean taste of the flour enveloping it.
It's pretty fun having a small little snack like this.
My friend likes the peanut.
I like the gula melaka.
And then, because you can't really see what's inside, it becomes a bit of a game trying to figure out which is which, picking out the right one, and then balancing it carefully on the neat, tiny little square of pandan leaf.