Mama Mie Novels & Stories

Wooden shelves filled with a collection of dishes served as the room divider. "Ah, Mama! Maureen's home early, protesting. Coming home at midnight especially," protested Maureen who immediately hugged the woman who had given birth to her and landed a quick kiss on the cheek. "Want some fried chicken?" The mature woman held up one of the chicken pieces from the plate to feed it to her child's mouth. One savory bite was tinged with a faint spiciness, like the red spice in her yellow rice before. "How come it's this red, Ma?" realized Maureen, observing the bite marks on the chicken held by her mother.

I pointed at the small bags on the other couch. "Really? Will Mama make breakfast then? I love Mama's rice." Dante said. "Papa's rice is sweeter than mama's." Alessio countered. O...Kay. "Mama's noodles are better than Papa's. Papa made his noodles soggy." "That was a one-time mistake, son. I make better noodles than mama." "That's not right. Mama's noodles are better, but Papa's pasta and chicken are good. Isn't that right, Emilia?" Dante asked and Emilia nodded, staring at us confusedly.

Mia cheeks turn red as she begins. "Really! Did you get his name?" Amber hovers over anxiously. "No" Mia said sadly. "But I'll definitely do when next I see him" Mia adds in optimistically. "Should I say congratulations on your new dating life in advance?" Amber ask sarcastically. "You bitch" they burst into loud exciting laughter. Evening dawn on Amber at Liam's mansion as she cleaned the earlier mess, arrange few used rooms and wash up the dishes. Amber's stomach growl loudly thus she turn on the electric cooker and begin preparing instant noodles using tasty ingredients like carrots, onion and dried prawns, within minutes the noodles was ready to be served.

Irena told Sara while caressing the child’s face, causing the tension in her body to dissipate. “Is it okay for us to get something to eat?” The oldest girl, Abby, asked Irena while pointing over at a buffet of fresh hot pastries that sat on a dining room table. “Of course you can get something to eat! I want both of you to enjoy.” Irena smiled at Abby while reaching over and cascading her hand down the side of the girl’s face. “You girls will love the raspberry scones! I made them with fresh raspberries!” Irena giggled while tapping Sara and Abby’s noses with the tip of her finger.

Mom and Dad had put Mina and Mallory to work while we were gone. They’d decorated the backyard, and had a table set up with different dishes from the local Chinese restaurant, Kimia’s favorite place. They’d ordered large quantities of both white and fried rice, sweet and sour pork, both chow mein and lo mein, beef and broccoli, cashew chicken, and walnut shrimp. Then, because Kimia loves chocolate, a homemade chocolate cake. My stomach growled when I saw the spread.

"Unlike Mom. She always smells like cheap marinara sauce and bleach." Mia shot me a look of pure disgust. The scent she was complaining about was from the lasagna I had spent the afternoon preparing—her favorite dish. Sofia glanced at me, a victorious glint in her eyes, though her voice feigned modesty. "Mia, don't say that. Your mother works very hard taking care of you in this big, empty house."

It contains only water. "Maybe I'll just eat outside," he said, laughing. When Migi was able to put on his jacket, he went to a nearby Carinderia. Aling Marta, the owner of Carinderia, cooked deliciously. Its cooking seems to be just like that of his mother. The cooked food will make people wow when they taste it. "Oh Migi! How are you? " said, with warm greetings from Aling Marta. Aside from the deliciousness of her cooking, he regards her as his second parent.

Their fingers remain tangled for a beat too long before he finally lifts the fork to his mouth. The main course is sea bream, baked in a salt crust that cracks open to release a cloud of oregano-scented steam. It's clean, intense, and perfect. "Is it like this where you're from?" he asks, the heat of the meal now a comfortable hum in his blood. "In Milan?" "No," Mia shakes her head, her expression softening. "Milan is butter and cream. Elegant and cool. But my mother... she used to drive us south. I remember eating this by the sea and feeling like I'd stepped into a different world."

" what are we cooking today ma'am?" She stops from what she's doing and glares at me. " MAMA." I gulped and tries to smile," m-mama?" She then smiles and looks at the things she is washing from the sink. " his favorite dish... Omurice" I don't know what kind of this that was but having the name of rice made me think that it has rice on it.

**Haru (smiling):** “Easy. Pinch, don’t stab.” I show her the grip—thumb and forefinger on the top stick, middle finger guiding the bottom. She mirrors me, a little clumsy at first, but gets an onigiri to her mouth on the third try. **Mia (after the first bite, eyes closing):** “Oh my gods. This is so good. The rice is perfect. And the sour plum in the middle—” **Haru:** “Umeboshi. Mom’s specialty.” We eat in comfortable quiet for a minute, just the sound of chopsticks and the low roar of the cafeteria behind us.