A Legacy of Love, Faith, and Flavor: Remembering Aunty Catherine with a Comforting Gluten-Free Teriyaki Chicken Recipe

It was late-November 1985, a time when I was merely a newborn, and my mother was diligently recovering from the C-section surgery that brought me into the world. During this crucial period, my father’s eldest sister, Aunty Catherine, graciously moved in with us. Her presence was a blessing, offering invaluable assistance around the home and, most importantly, providing tender care for me, her tiny, fragile grand-niece.

I had arrived prematurely, weighing a mere 2 kilograms (just under 5 pounds), as delicate and small as a little rabbit. My family often recounted stories of Aunty Catherine’s unwavering devotion during those early days. She would gently lay me on her chest as I slept, her breath barely perceptible, careful not to stir my peaceful slumber. Even when sleep eventually claimed her, she’d rouse herself frequently, checking to ensure I hadn’t shifted or rolled over. Seeing my tiny eyes tightly shut and my fists curled into small, innocent balls, she would then allow herself to drift back into a light, watchful rest.

As years passed and I grew a little older, perhaps around the age of ten, Aunty Catherine’s visits became a cherished highlight. She would journey seven hours by coach bus from Kuantan, Malaysia – where she resided with my Uncle Chee Sun and my cousins Bryan and Jonathan – to stay at our home in Singapore. Each visit was an event my siblings and I eagerly anticipated, for Aunty Catherine rarely arrived empty-handed. Her gifts, whether a unique hair accessory, a captivating book she thought I’d adore, or packets of delectable local Malaysian treats, always felt like an early Christmas morning.

Yet, more than the material gifts we children so eagerly awaited, it was Aunty Catherine’s vibrant enthusiasm for life and her infectious, hearty laughter that I treasured most deeply. Petite in stature but boundless in energy, she was a whirlwind of activity – always moving, often found creating something delicious in the kitchen, or passionately sharing a new discovery with us. Her spirit was truly magnetic.

Childhood Adventures and Late-Night Confessions

On days when she was free, we’d embark on delightful window shopping excursions. It mattered little whether we were exploring the bustling streets of Orchard Road or the vibrant alleys of Chinatown; every outing was an adventure. We’d share jokes about outlandish clothes, scout for incredible bargains at thrift stores, and then settle into a random food court for a quick, satisfying afternoon snack. Eventually, when our weary legs could carry us no further, we’d make our way home, tired but undeniably content, our hearts full of shared laughter and memories.

The room I shared with Aunty Catherine during her visits became a sanctuary for late-night conversations. We would lie awake until the wee hours, as she recounted captivating tales of her childhood and the life she led before moving to Malaysia. I’d listen with rapt attention, absorbing every minute detail, striving to vividly re-create the scenes in my mind, until the comforting drone of her voice, coupled with my growing fatigue, would eventually lull me to sleep. These moments fostered a unique bond, deepening my understanding of her rich history and the experiences that shaped her remarkable character.

A Journey of Unwavering Faith and Resilience

Aunty Catherine played an incredibly significant role throughout my formative years. Among all the wonderful qualities she possessed, one stood out prominently: her unabashed love for God and her unshakable faith that He would always be with her, guiding and supporting her through life’s challenges. This profound spiritual conviction was a cornerstone of her existence and a constant source of inspiration to everyone around her.

Her faith was forged in the fires of adversity. You see, Aunty Catherine had been diagnosed with breast cancer in her early thirties. In a moment of deep vulnerability and tearful prayer, she made a solemn promise to God: if He would heal her, she would dedicate the remainder of her life to His service. God, in His infinite mercy, delivered on that promise. When her cancer miraculously went into remission, Aunty Catherine transformed into a devout Christian, her entire life becoming a powerful testament to God’s boundless love and enduring joy. She radiated an optimism and generosity that touched countless lives.

Her overflowing love and benevolent spirit were not confined to her immediate or extended family; they reached far beyond. She dedicated a substantial portion of her time and energy to the church she attended in Kuantan, serving faithfully each week and eagerly embarking on mission trips whenever the opportunity arose. Aunty Catherine profoundly understood that her destiny and mission in life were to be a blessing to others, and she pursued this noble goal with remarkable precision, determination, and grace.

Over the course of the next thirty years, the insidious disease would return a couple of times. Each recurrence was met not with despair, but with fervent prayer and an unwavering resolve. She held strong to the Bible’s sacred promise that God would once again heal her. And indeed, two or three times, the cancer came, only to recede back into remission. After completing her chemotherapy treatments, Aunty Catherine would invariably rebound, returning to her normal life, always full of her signature joy, contagious laughter, and radiant sunshine. Her resilience was truly astonishing.

The Bittersweet Farewell and Enduring Grief

Then, in November 2014, my mum sent me a text message bearing the dreaded news: Aunty Catherine’s cancer had reared its ugly head once more. This time, however, there was a new, chilling concern – signs of metastasis. The doctors were deeply troubled, unable to offer a clear prognosis of how much time she had left. When I received that text message on a quiet morning in Argentina, a painful lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard and prayed with all my might that God would once again see her through this harrowing ordeal.

This particular battle, however, proved different. The cancer returned with a relentless vengeance, attacking with an unprecedented ferocity. Over the next nine months, Aunty Catherine’s health deteriorated slowly but surely. She eventually made the difficult decision to permanently move back to Singapore to undergo treatment. When I visited Singapore in March of the following year, I was profoundly shocked by her visibly thin frame. She was almost half the size I remembered, a stark illustration of the toll the illness had taken. Yet, despite her physical decline, Aunty Catherine remained remarkably hopeful and bright.

On the day of my homecoming dinner, she spent an entire afternoon in the kitchen, cooking alongside my mum and our helper, Meriam, her spirit still vibrant. When I hugged her goodbye on a Wednesday evening, a profound and dreadful thought crossed my mind: would this be the last time I would ever see her in person? I desperately tried to push that thought away, willing it to fade into oblivion.

Sadly, my intuition proved correct. As the months passed, a grim complication arose: water began accumulating in Aunty Catherine’s lungs, a direct result of the spreading cancer – an ominous sign. Her breathing became labored, and she had to rely on an oxygen tank to breathe normally. In late-July 2015, my mum called to inform me that Aunty Catherine had been admitted to the Singapore General Hospital after developing an infection. From that point, her health spiraled rapidly.

Within three weeks, Aunty Catherine had to be transferred to a hospice, where she soon began drifting in and out of consciousness. Nurses administered morphine in increasingly larger doses to manage her pain. Finally, after fighting a truly courageous battle, giving every last ounce of energy she possessed, Aunty Catherine returned home to be with God on August 17, 2015. The profound regret of not having had the chance to say goodbye in person is a burden I still carry to this day.

Finding Solace in Memories and Comfort Food

It has now been almost a year since Aunty Catherine left us. While I find comfort in knowing that she is in a better place, free from suffering, my heart still aches with a hollowness I had never experienced before. Her absence is a palpable void in our lives.

I can still vividly hear her familiar, gentle voice and her bright, lighthearted laughter. I can still picture her wide, radiant smile and recall the countless conversations we shared, etched deeply into my memory. I can still feel the fragility of her cancer-stricken frame as we embraced in a farewell hug that fateful Wednesday. These are memories I must cling to tightly, for she is no longer physically here. It’s truly hard to believe that a year has come and gone since her departure; time and tide truly wait for no one. And while life moves on for us, Aunty Catherine’s absence is still so keenly felt, so vividly noticed every single day.

My heart feels heavy today, burdened by grief. Yet, writing about the beautiful, impactful life she lived brings me a profound sense of closeness to her. While I miss her tremendously, this act of writing serves as a vital coping mechanism. As I’ve often shared, writing is my antidote to almost anything. In moments when I feel lost and overwhelmed by sorrow, much like now, writing keeps me grounded and sane. I’ve never truly realized the immense, healing power of writing in my life as much as I do today, and it is my heartfelt hope that these words will bring honor to the memory of a woman who lived with as much passion, love, and unwavering faith as Aunty Catherine did.

During tender, emotional moments like these, when I am so far away from home, comfort foods become an essential balm to ease the tidal wave of homesickness and grief. There’s something inherently familiar and deeply warming about settling down to a plate of food infused with flavors I’ve grown up eating. This gluten-free teriyaki chicken, lovingly prepared, is no exception; it offers a taste of home and a comforting embrace.

Homemade Gluten-Free Teriyaki Chicken Recipe

I’ve meticulously whipped up a homemade teriyaki sauce, designed to perfectly marinate tender chicken strips. This sauce masterfully combines the distinct flavors of gluten-free soy sauce, sweet honey, fresh grated ginger, aromatic minced garlic, and a hint of fiery chili flakes – everything you’d expect to find in an authentic, flavorful Asian dish. It’s a recipe that not only tastes incredible but also brings a sense of warmth and familiarity.

To begin, combine the gluten-free soy sauce, honey, grated ginger, minced garlic, apple cider vinegar, and chili flakes in a large saucepan over low heat. Stir the mixture thoroughly to ensure all ingredients are well incorporated. Allow this flavorful concoction to simmer gently for approximately 15 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking and ensure even cooking. Then, introduce a tablespoon of tapioca starch, whisking it in to beautifully thicken the sauce to your desired consistency. Once the teriyaki sauce is ready, let it cool briefly before generously marinating thick chicken strips within its fragrant depths. After the chicken has absorbed all that delicious flavor, cook it in a wok over medium heat for about 10 minutes, stirring periodically until the chicken is thoroughly cooked through and its juices run clear. Serve this delightful teriyaki chicken generously sprinkled with freshly chopped spring onions and toasted sesame seeds, accompanied by a steaming bowl of rice, of course. This dish is a simple yet profound way to find comfort.

I sincerely hope this gluten-free teriyaki chicken brings you a sense of comfort and warmth, wherever you may be in this vast world.

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