How do we define our mother’s love?
We relate her to the best home cooked meals, beautifully ironed uniforms, nagging of the loving kind, picking out the best parts of the dish just for you, feeding you when you’re sick.
Out of every action of love she does for us, the most Singaporean kind is when she prepares us the Brand’s Chicken Essence for us.
My mom would place the bottle in a bowl and pour some hot water on it. You let it sit for a few minutes. Not only does it allow the lid to be popped off easily, the essence is a warm, soothing liquid for your soul. At least, that’s what they tell you. I always thought it tasted odd and funky and old. But you eat it anyway. Because your mom bought it, explained all the health benefits for you better than a commercial, and went through the effort to make it nice, even though it takes a pinch of the nose and two seconds to drink it all.
I’ve not had one in years. But the mere thought of that fake grass green label and the smell that doesn’t really smell like chicken, brings back memories of how well my mom looked after me. Even if I didn’t believe any of it, it was still a comforting thought.
If I could bring one thing anywhere with me when I travel, chicken essence would be it.
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