I found this strange looking nuts at a supermarket on Washington Street, Chinatown on Saturday afternoon. The last time I saw and ate them was when I was five years old. Pheww.........is that long? It was the year my father went to Congo and we went to live for a year with grandmother in her big house in Batu Uban, Penang.
I don't remember how and who brought this strange looking nuts home. I remember holding one of them in my palm. "Is this horn belong to midget water buffalo?"
I remember Tok Uda- young grandmother (my grandfather's second wife) chuckled at my question, pulled me into her arm and said I was funny.
I remember Tok, grandmother snorted at my question and said it was a dumb question.
I remember my mother responded in a sharp tone to grandmother that I was smart that's why I asked the question and not to say stupid to her children.
I remember my sister KN roasted them in grandmother's portable charcoal stove in her red tile kitchen.
I remember my sister told me to step away from the stove as the they cracked and popped in the glowing red charcoal. They sound like when you ripped the fabric apart. The little sparks flew high in the air, landed on the floor, turned into black bits.
I remember KN picked them out from the stove with a huge steel tongs. She put them one by one on three layers kitchen rags. When she got them all out, KN held together the four corners of the rags, folded them and pounded them gently with a stone pestle.
When she unfolded the rags, the broken and cracked nuts exposed the white meat.
I remember sitting on the kitchen red steps holding out my right palm as my mother picked the white meat from the shells with a used satay skewer. My mother sat on the door threshold, I sat between her legs, my body twisted to the right so I could see everybody's face, my right elbow rested on my mother's knee.
I remember KN sat next to me, picking out the tiny white nut from her palm while Tok Uda did her share.
I remember my mother's lovely laughter at KN's joke, and Tok Uda's pat on my sister's shoulder when she heard something funny.
I don't remember what they were talking about but I remember the joyous moment surrounded by the special women in my life.
For Jo, you're right, it's something to do with horn, because they're called Horn Nuts. But I have no idea where are they from, or where do they grow or what does a plant looks like. Perhaps we should start Google and find out.
I hope somebody knows a little history of Horn Nuts and share it with us.
And for Nina, I think it is still exotic, isn't it?
So, I bought about a dozen that cost me $0.45 ($1.65/lb).
For Mak, who stood by me even when I was only five years young.
For KN, who is always there to answer my questions. When I got home I uploaded the pictures and e-mailed her. I called her and left her a message to check her e-mail. An hour later, she wrote back and told me how to prepare the horn nuts. Boil them, but don't roast them in the oven. They might pop up and mess up your oven.
For Tok Uda, whose love like flowing river after the rain.
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