With so many birds to deal with, prepping them took Clara quite a bit of effort.
She boiled a large pot of water, let it cool slightly in a wooden basin, then dunked all the birds in for two quick scalds.
Adam, Ben, Chad, and Deb were put in charge of plucking feathers, while Clara handled gutting and cleaning with a pair of scissors. After working through noon, they finally ended up with a big basin full of clean bird meat.
Last time Clara had made stir-fried sparrows, the kids had just been punished and weren't allowed to eat meat—so they missed out completely.
Now, seeing such a full basin of bird meat, they were beside themselves with excitement. It wasn't even dark yet, and they were already hovering around the stove, eagerly awaiting the sound of oil hitting the pan.
Since there would be a lot of people eating tonight, Clara decided to just fry all the meat ahead of time.
The freshly fried meat was crisp and golden—just a pinch of salt made it perfectly delicious.
Clara scooped out a small bowl for the four wide-eyed kids and sent them out of the kitchen. Then she continued to fry the rest, until she had a full basin of golden bird bites.
The aroma drifted all the way to the riverside, where Old Walter Liew and his four sons were still working on the shed. The scent made them all salivate, and they couldn't help but speed up, eager to finish the job and get to dinner.
There was so much bird meat that Clara only plated half the basin. The other half, already cooked, would keep for two or three days—perfect for their own meals later.
By the time Clara finished cleaning the fish, Doreen and Kate had arrived with their children in tow.
Martha had stayed by the riverside to keep an eye on the grain being milled.
Once Doreen and Kate stepped into Clara's courtyard, they didn't need instructions. To them, Clara's kitchen was as familiar as their own, and they quickly got to work.
Kate brought vegetables from her own garden—beans, greens, bottle gourd—and cleaned them at the wash station. She also prepped the water celery Clara had picked earlier, keeping only the most tender shoots.
Then she laid down a chopping board and began slicing.
Doreen picked up a large ladle and asked Kate, "How many mouths are we feeding today?" She needed to measure the rice for porridge.
Clara quickly chimed in, "Second Sister, count me as five people!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, both sisters-in-law burst out laughing.
Wiping tears of laughter, Doreen teased, "We know already. You don't have to say it—we've long been counting you as five. Don't worry, you'll eat till you're full!"
Clara gave an embarrassed shrug. Honestly, she was just worried they might default her portion to seven-tenths full.
Kate did a quick head count and reported it to Doreen. Since all the men had been working hard all day, Clara had a big appetite, and Kate was pregnant and needed extra nourishment—they decided everyone would eat to about eighty percent full tonight.
With the rice carefully measured (not a grain more than needed), Doreen took over the cooking.
When she saw the basin of crispy bird meat, she couldn't help but swallow a little drool.
"Clara, it's all thanks to you. Otherwise, how would we ever get to taste such a treat?"
This tiny bird meat was some of the tastiest around—but also the hardest to hunt. To be able to eat this much in one go? That had never happened before.
With such great ingredients, and Clara being generous with oil and seasonings, Doreen decided to give them a proper feast.
She heated the wok and added chopped scallions, ginger, garlic, and dried chilies—stir-frying until the fragrance bloomed. Then in went the bird meat for a quick toss, followed by half a bowl of soy sauce for color. A bowl of water went in next, then the wooden lid came down to simmer.
Once the liquid had almost boiled dry, she opened the lid, added the cut water celery, and stir-fried until all the moisture was gone. A pinch of salt to finish, and the whole dish was plated in a large ceramic bowl.
The aroma filled the entire courtyard. The meat, coated in a shiny glaze of sauce and oil, looked irresistible. Mix it with some rice, and who knew how many bowls one could eat?
The kids had long abandoned their play. They helped set the table and then squatted nearby, waiting for dinner to start.
Doreen continued with the fish—simmering a pot of rich, milky fish soup. The tender fish meat was paired with beans and thinly sliced bottle gourd. Another fresh and hearty dish.
The greens were quickly stir-fried until just wilted, topped with minced garlic, and finished with a splash of hot oil—releasing a fragrant burst of steam.
By the time the dishes were ready, the riverside shed was nearly complete.
The aroma wafting through the courtyard was too tempting. The five men hurried to place the last few thatch tiles and secure them tightly.
"All done! Time to eat!" Lester clapped his hands and was the first to stand.
Martha had also just finished grinding the wheat and asked Brandon to carry it over to Clara's courtyard to drop off for now—they'd take it home later.
"Wash your hands!" Lester shouted when he saw his father and three brothers heading for the table without washing up.
Old Walter gave him a sour look. "What's the fuss? We just rinsed off at the river. Not dirty."
Lester quickly glanced at Clara and said firmly, "Nope. Washing hands before meals is the rule in our house!"
As he spoke, he furiously winked at his father and brothers—tilting his head toward Clara.
Brandon and the others got the message. If it was Clara's rule, then they'd better follow it.
Old Walter, though slightly annoyed, chose to respect it.
Watching his father and brothers obediently line up to wash their hands, Lester suddenly felt a bit miffed.
What the heck? When I say wash, they ignore me. But when Clara says it, they fall in line like children?
"Come on, let's eat," Clara called out.
Only then did Lester take his seat—still grumbling on the inside.
But one glance at the dishes on the table, and his mood was instantly lifted.
The dinner table was uncharacteristically quiet—no one had time to talk. Every second spent speaking meant one less bite of food.
Still, the portions had already been perfectly calculated by Doreen. When the food was gone, everyone was comfortably eight-tenths full—just right.
Lester thought that with so many guests today, Clara would probably cut him some slack and let him skip cleanup for once.
But the moment the last person put down their chopsticks, Clara—out of habit—called out, "Time to clean up."
Doreen and Kate, who were just about to stand and start clearing, froze mid-motion—unsure whether to move or stay seated.
Clara smiled and waved them off. "No need, I've got help."
They sat back down, and rightly so. In Lester's house, seeing him do chores wasn't anything surprising.
Only Old Walter and his three other sons stared in disbelief as Lester swiftly cleared the dishes and carried them off to be washed.
Old Walter glanced at Clara, about to speak. He'd always thought that when it was just the two of them, having Lester do housework was their personal business.
But now, doing what was clearly "women's work" in front of everyone? That didn't seem right.
Before he could voice his concern, Clara was already up, eagerly heading toward the riverside to inspect the newly completed shed.
Doreen and Kate followed too—having been busy cooking all afternoon, they hadn't had a chance to see it yet.
Martha looked from one face to another, noting the stunned expressions on the men, and couldn't help but chuckle to herself.
Old Walter had never stepped foot in a kitchen in his life—let alone cleared dishes or scrubbed pots.
But since the men usually did the heavy field work, the three women had naturally taken on household duties.
Then again, who said men had to farm and women had to cook?
In Clara's household, she did the heavy labor, and Lester did the chores. Seemed pretty natural.
Martha understood that. And besides, Lester's cooking had improved quite a bit lately.
After all, it was her who had taught him.
And that, she thought with a little smile, was something to be proud of.
(End of Chapter)
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