Halal

By Dewi Anggraeni

Karen pushed her shopping jeep out of Prahran Market. On the way to the car park, she maneuvered the overflowing jeep with one hand, keeping the other free to catch falling articles from it.

She took all the bags out of the jeep and put them into the back seat of her car, then heaved the jeep into the boot. Before climbing in herself, she stopped to stretch and rub her back.

As soon as she entered the traffic, Karen began to mentally plan what she was going to do with what she had bought, and thought hard if she had left anything out. She was going to cook Boeuf en Daube for dinner. Stephen had invited Hadi Priyadi and his wife, Wahyuni. Stephen had told her that Hadi, his new colleague from Indonesia, had once lived in France for four years. Being a Sorbonne graduate herself, Karen was eager to show off her mastery of the French cuisine.

"What are you going to cook?" Stephen had asked.

"Boeuf en Daube. Remember how Louise and Martin raved about it the other night?"

"How could I forget? I'm sure Hadi and Wahyuni will like it, darling."

Stephen was mowing the lawn when Karen arrived home. Since both of them worked full-time, the lawn was often neglected until the time they invited some friends over for a barbecue. This Saturday they were not going to have a barbecue but Stephen was mowing it nonetheless. When Karen looked in disbelief, he yelled above the noise of the mower's engine, "They're new friends. I don't want to put them out. Besides, I imagine they have a gardener to keep their lawn perfectly manicured."

Karen began to prepare her meat and other ingredients for dinner, before making some salad sandwiches for lunch.

During lunch Stephen planned the wines for dinner. "I reckon the Chateau Mildara's Cabernet Shiraz'd be perfect for the meat." Then, after another mouthful, "What's the entree again, pork and veal patty did you say?"

Karen nodded. "In that case, the Rose I bought from Emile. What do you think?"

Without waiting for Karen's answer, Stephen got up and walked to the corner wine rack and pulled out a bottle of Cabernet Shiraz and a bottle of Rose. "This Cabernet needs to breathe first. And the Rose is best if a bit chilled."

Karen didn't answer. She was not as enthusiastic about wine as Stephen was. Despite having lived in Paris, she couldn't tell one wine from another. She'd make Stephen want to strangle her in a blind tasting, because she'd say that they all tasted the same.

"What about dessert?" asked Stephen.

"Creme caramel. And, Stephen, I pinched some of your brandy from the cabinet."

"Excellent. Aah, isn't it lucky I still have a couple of bottles of Spotlese Lexia."

"What's this? A drinking orgy?" asked Karen testily.

"A drinking orgy? Darling! A meal is only complete if served with wines perfectly planned for it. What kind of francophile are you?"

Stephen was tidying up his bookshelves when Karen called from the kitchen. "Stephen, I forgot to get bacon. Would you be a sweetie and go to Guido's? Remember darling, thick, unsmoked bacon."

At the deli, Stephen told Guido what he wanted, and his mouth dropped when Guido pointed to an empty tray in the glass cabinet. "If you'd come an hour earlier, I'd have one piece left. There's some smoked ones left."

Stephen shook his head. "Karen's extremely particular about her cooking. She'd hit the roof if I arrived home with anything but the specified item. Where d'you think I could get unsmoked bacon?"

Guido thought for a moment. "You got your car with you?"

Stephen nodded.

"Wait a minute. I'll call my brother in Noble Park. He always has some."

Stephen waited, mentally calculating the time needed to travel there. Guido returned with a wide grin.

"You're lucky, mate. Tony's still got some, and he's keeping it for you."

An hour later Karen saw Stephen walk in from the back door.

"Where on earth have you been?"

She wasn't totally pacified by Stephen's explanation. "Couldn't you go to another deli in the area? You knew I'd have to cook it for three hours!"

Around 5:30 that evening, Karen was busy washing used pots and pans and tidying up her kitchen. The Boeuf en Daube was in the oven, the pork and veal patty in the fridge, and her creme caramel was cooling off on the kitchen bench, almost ready to go into the fridge also. Several feet away was Stephen chopping up kabana and cheese for hors d'oeuvres.

At six o'clock, Karen was just stepping into the bathroom when the telephone rang. Her sister Patricia's voice came pleading through the line, "Karen darling! You wouldn't turn down a cry for help from your poor sister, would you?"

Karen felt instantly crowded in. "What happened?"

"Oh, I'm in a real bind. You knew Arthur and I bought tickets for the Haydn concert at Melbourne Concert Hall, didn't you? Well we booked a sitter for the night. But the wretched lass got the flu. You reckon you could look after Lindy and Tim for a couple of hours? We'll come straight back after...'

"Wait a minute Tricia!" Karen cut in. "We're having dinner guests..."

"Okay, but you're not going anywhere, are you? Lindy and Tim could easily be sent to bed..."

"Sorry Tricia, I can't. If we were only having old friends around, that'd be different. But these are people I haven't even met."

"Who are they?" asked Patricia, hardly hiding her annoyance.

"Hadi Priyadi and his wife..."

"What nationality are they?"

"Indonesian."

"Indonesian? I hope you cooked halal food?"

"What d'you mean, halal food?"

"Kosher. No pork and all that jazz."

"Oh that? Yeah, I used beef in... Wait on! The patty has pork in it, and the beef was cooked with bacon. Oh God! What made you think they didn't eat pork?"

"You are so ignorant! These people are Moslem. Remember when I invited the Suryas? Good thing I also had roast chicken in the oven!"

"Oh my God! Tricia, why didn't you warn me? Stephen! Stephen!"

"And remember!" Patricia's voice piped in, as if enjoying it, "They don't drink alcohol!"

The doorbell rang. Karen rushed to the front door still buttoning up her blouse. She opened the door to an immaculately dressed, very handsome couple, smiling warmly at her. After a quick introduction all around, Karen invited them into the lounge and made sure they were comfortably seated facing the mural, then scuttled to the kitchen. Stephen sneaked in from the back door, still panting and puffing, more from nervousness than rushing. He put a box of rotisserie chicken from the fast-food place near the station on the kitchen bench, then ran back to his car to fetch another box containing half a dozen bottles of non-alcoholic cider.

"Hurry up and keep them company while I prepare all this!" whispered Karen.

Stephen straightened up his jacket, took a deep breath, then stepped out of the kitchen with deliberate calmness.

Karen came out with the platter of hors d'oeuvres Stephen had prepared earlier. She'd barely taken a second step toward the settee when Stephen shot up from his seat, met her halfway and grabbed the platter, heading for the kitchen. Karen was left gaping for a second, then gathered her wits and smiled sweetly at Hadi and Wahyuni.

"I hope you'll forgive us. We're rather disorganized tonight. We came home only half an hour ago."

"Sorry we've caused you so much trouble," Wahyuni said, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, no, not at all! It's just that we were only able to prepare the simplest meal. We were called out at very short notice. I hope you don't mind."

"We were very grateful for your invitation."

Karen looked toward the door beyond the dining room to the kitchen. Stephen emerged with the platter of hors d'oeuvres. In the corner where there had been a pile of sliced kabana, now there were mixed nuts.

"Stephen, what about drinks for Hadi and Wahyuni?" Karen asked when her husband had put the platter on the coffee table.

"Ah yes. What would you like to drink? There's apple cider, and, er, orange and lime mineral water."

"Oh, er, I wouldn't mind orange and lime mineral water. What about you, Yun?" Hadi turned to his wife.

Wahyuni smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "I'd like that too."

Stephen disappeared into the kitchen. Karen noticed that Hadi glanced at the floor-to-ceiling wine rack in the corner where dozens bottles of red, white, rose, whiskey and port pointed their corks at them like silent guns. She quickly engaged them in small talk.

"I hear you've lived in France."

"Oh Hadi has. I stayed back in Bandung," replied Wahyuni, "We got married when Hadi returned."

"Aarh," Karen was extremely interested, "So you're still on your honeymoon?"

"You could say that," Hadi said with a laugh.

Karen felt less tense now that they had more or less broken the ice. Stephen came back carrying a tray with four glasses of orange and lime mineral water. Again Karen caught Hadi glancing at the wine rack. She felt her neck stiffening. Somehow it seemed mean to serve mineral water to their guests while 10 feet away a whole selection of alcoholic drinks were on display teasing the drinkers with their mere existence so close by. She knew what Stephen would say. It was like watching a striptease show in the company of priests and nuns. Why ever didn't I cover the rack with a drape? She could kick herself.

Suddenly she excused herself. "I have to check the food in the oven."

Not long after that, dinner was served and they all sat at the dining table. Wahyuni complemented the tomato sauce she'd just tasted. "Karen," she said, "you must teach me how to cook Australian food."

"Sure. But there's plenty of time for that, Wahyuni." Karen didn't dare look at her husband who was responsible for preparing the soup, which involved a can opener and a big saucepan.

When the chicken was served, Karen and Stephen tried to keep the conversation away from the food, which Hadi and Wahyuni appeared to take forever to eat. Good thing that Hadi loved Karen's dessert, Peters' ice cream served with canned fruit salad. He cheerfully accepted two more helpings.

They had coffee back at the lounge. Leaning against the back of his chair, almost relaxed, Stephen was thankful that their guests hadn't seemed to notice that the entire dinner had been produced in less than half an hour. In the meantime the food that Karen had prepared and cooked with a great deal of love was sitting in the far corner of the kitchen, all forlorn.

Hadi sipped his coffee. Despite the fairly relaxed atmosphere, Karen was restless. Was she imagining things? He kept looking at the wine rack. It occurred to her that when they were entertaining they'd normally add port to their coffee.

She stood up and asked, "Well, what CD should we put on now? Hadi? Wahyuni? Any requests?"

Wahyuni looked up. "I love Handel and Bach. Do you have any?"

"Do you really?" said Karen, "I like them too."

She pulled out a Handel CD and placed it gently in the player.

After hearing the first few bars Hadi looked adoringly at his wife. "You played this number this morning. What is it? Gigue?"

"Yes, I'm going to use it as a prelude. For the choir they've selected a Beethoven Concerto."

"Oh," Stephen and Karen looked admiringly at Wahyuni. "You're playing in a concert?"

"Ah no!" Wahyuni hastened to reply, a little embarrassed. "Not a concert. It's just an ecumenical service, at our church."

"An ecumenical service, at your church?" Stephen nearly spluttered in his cup while Karen nearly dropped hers.

"Yes, we go to the big Uniting Church in Kew."

Karen glared at her husband. Stephen checked a grimace.

Dewi Anggraeni was born in Jakarta, Indonesia, and lives in Melbourne. She was the Australian correspondent for Tempo and now writes for The Jakarta Post, Forum Keadilan and other publications in Indonesia and Australia. She has three books published in Australia -- two novels, The Root of All Evil (1987) and Parallel Forces (1988), and a trilogy of novellas called Stories of Indian Pacific (1993). The Indonesian version of Halal has been published in Pelangi, a bilingual magazine from the University of South Queensland.