Maha’s dates and the other fabulous foods of the
Middle East played an important part in all our lives – I
had blissfully forgotten about most of the things I’d
cooked in my previous life. However, I was still receiving
my censored editions (think Maggie Beer in a Texta-ed
black abaya) of the Australian Gourmet Traveller. The
recipes and new ideas in that magazine still excited me.
One day when I was talking to Maha about a recipe for
Peking Duck, she casually mentioned that she’d never
tried it. I couldn’t resist the urge to cook it, so I
organised a dinner in her honour as a thank-you for the
date deliveries. It was to be a girls’ night, so I invited
Robbie and Aruna, my Indian cooking teacher, to join
Maha and me.
I fed the kids and prepared a meal for Shane so that he
could make himself scarce. Maha would not be dressed
in her abaya: he had to secrete himself upstairs so that
he couldn’t see her.
But I saw her – and she looked gorgeous.
When she arrived and removed her abaya and
headscarf, she revealed a most exquisite two-piece
ensemble in soft blues, mauves and grey. The fabric was
a kind of gauze that I’d never seen before. She’d
completed the outfit with a simple grey pearl necklace
that looked so elegant and right. Maha had a way of
always looking as if she’d stepped out of the pages of
Harper’s Bazaar. She had such an abundance of grace
and poise that I’m sure she would have looked perfectly
splendid in a hessian sack.
Aruna also looked beautiful in her magnificent sari, and
Robbie looked resplendent – as always – in a cerise
coloured blouse that coordinated perfectly with her
glamorous hot pink fingernails: after all she was the
queen of manicures. Robbie was good friends with
Maha and was overjoyed at the dinner invitation. Being
a natural conversationalist, she held court and kept the
mood buoyant while I cooked.
I couldn’t resist wearing one of my precious pinnies, but
I did stick to a conservative number so as not to offend
Maha. I presented the duck, which was a triumph, and
followed with a rich sticky-date pudding – using Maha’s
dates, of course. The meal that I’d made from my muchloved source of inspiration was perfect, and I was
delighted with the result. Aruna asked for the stickydate pudding recipe, which I’d borrowed from the great
British cook Delia Smith. I’d tweaked it a little and added
a few variations, so I had no compunction in calling it
my own. Sorry, Delia, but mine’s better.
I always take it as a great compliment when someone
asks for my recipe. It means that the dish was a success
and that my creation will be reborn in someone else’s
kitchen. The person can modify the recipe as they wish,
but the request means that they liked it enough to
reproduce it, and I am always happy to oblige.
But Maha was more interested in my apron. She asked if
I’d mind teaching her how to paint in a similar style to
the flying woman, and of course I took her request as
another great compliment. I was now considered a good
enough artist to teach others! I blushed and said, “Of
course. When would you like to have your lesson?”
I was so excited about returning Maha’s favour.
The end of the summer break was a time that would
probably work well for both of us, so she opened her
leather diary and gave me a few options.
I thumbed through my own diary and shuffled a few less
important engagements to settle on one of the dates
she’d given me.
“Okay, this date is good,” I said, writing the words
‘Painting with Maha’ on the page.
Photography and logo provided by BroadsAbroad.net.
2001. Or – as the Americans
It was September
would now say – the day after 9/11.
12th
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