"Who's Bad?" In Jagat, It's Not Who You Think

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 05 January 2015


When the mostly good reviews trickled in, I held fast because this was the sort of film I dreaded. I've never been a cinema buff, and watching an upsetting film isn't how I would want to spend an afternoon.

In the end, my curiosity won out. I went to a cinema, plonked myself in front of a big screen on a public holiday, and learnt that my suspicions (and the rave reviews) about the film were right.

My interest about the locally-produced, mostly Tamil film Jagat was also stoked by how much it reminded me of other works that revolved around a similar premise: the plight of marginalised Malaysian Indians who were left to their own devices after being kicked out of the estates where they have lived and worked for generations.

Jagat (Tamil slang for "bad") zooms in on a particular family, and how circumstances can keep them trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty and crime. In spite of his creative talents and out-of-the-box thinking, young Shankar a.k.a. Appoy is seen as a disappointment by his father Maniam. Appoy's uncle, Dorai, joins a gang with a friend. Both are promised the keys to getting ahead: for Appoy, good grades in the exams; and for Dorai, a thug's life.

Ironically, for Appoy, the education system and family unit which is supposed to be his lifeline wears him down instead. He's given a bad grade for his short composition (Saya Sebatang Pensel — remember that one?), which his dad berates him for. Pencils do not fly in the real world, he is told.

Watching Appoy being broken down is painful. Like the powers that be hell-bent on putting him in his place, this bully of a film knows where it hurts and how to hurt you. Every few minutes, something shocking, angering or saddening sneaks up and punches you in the gut.

When Appoy poses in a workmanlike Michael Jackson get-up he made from bits and pieces scavenged from his neighbourhood for his class's fancy dress competition, we can't help but cheer. Who's bad? He is! Then his dad has a bad day at work and Appoy's efforts are wasted.

Sad thing is, though he's aware of the significance of education, Maniam would rather beat or scold this piece of wisdom into his son instead of explaining it to him (we're not sure if he's done the latter before) — which doesn't work.

Salting Appoy's wounds further is the bullying he receives from schoolmates and a teacher who is, despite what the community believes, far from divine. With his dreams and self-worth in tatters, the boy figures he has to be bad for real — like his gangster uncle (who does not approve) — to get any form of respect and validation.

The film is not short of bad guys, but it's easy to guess who the true villains are: the archaic and rigid education system, which has trouble with outliers like Appoy; the conservative attitudes in his community; racism ... the usual suspects. After all, haven't we lived with them for years?

Jagat reportedly took a decade to make, presumably due to the perfectionist streak in the writer and production crew — and all that work shows. It paints a realistic, albeit gloomy portrait of Indians in poverty — and the forces that conspire to keep them there. An amazing directorial debut by Shanjhey Kumar Perumal, who also wrote the screenplay.

Speaking to local daily The Sun, Shanjhey revealed that his background is similar to the young protagonist's. "When I was young, I wanted to be a scientist," he said. "When I became a teenager, I wanted to be a gangster instead, because I found that society seemed to have more respect for such people compared to educated people." Thank goodness he ditched that ambition.

He also hoped the film will help non-Indian Malaysians understand their Indian neighbours better. "I really believe our racial unity should be more than just eating each other's food. We should also try to understand each other's history and culture. One of the simplest ways to do that is through the arts."

Is it "simple", though? I can imagine how tough it must be to solicit funding, especially for gritty non-escapist features based on real-world problems with no apparent solution or end in sight.

And, sometimes, the message is lost on some. As I stumbled towards the exit with other moviegoers, I heard two of them loudly discussing (parts of) the experience, like Taylor Swift's appearance in one of the ads, and how one of the gangsters looked like a friend. One of them seemed have a problem with the fact that a "Datuk" (Datuk Seri A. Anandan) was the producer — not "indie" enough, perhaps?

I'd like to think that, by making Jagat, Shanjhey is encouraging the poorer kids from his former hood to aim for greater things, like becoming the scientist he never became, or a Nobel Prize-winning man of letters.

Someone who, I hope, can find a way to make pencils fly.


Jagat began screening at selected cinemas nationwide on December 17, 2015.

Also, tweaked this part for clarity.

Wade Into Wilbur Smith's Ancient Egypt

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 26 December 2015


Majestic scenery, rich history, epic battles, heroic feats and interesting characters. Plus betrayal, murder, politics and a bit of comedy — all told by a snooty eunuch slave. Welcome to Wilbur Smith's ancient Egypt.

I stumbled upon River God while browsing in a comic rental shop in the neighbourhood, which has since closed. It was so long ago, I can't remember if I'd put the book down or when I decided to get my own copy, which I had to ditch because it got so old and brown and the pages were warped.

But that world stayed with me, not just because of my interest in that bygone realm.

The novel's titular river god, Hapi, is said not to be the god of the Nile itself, but of the Nile's annual flooding, which ran like clockwork except for a few times in Egypt's long history. So he was a big deal, even if he isn't as culturally popular as Ra, Horus, Anubis or Isis.

From the details within, Smith's historic epic takes place somewhere in the Middle Kingdom period between 2000 and 1700 BC, but this has been contested. Salitis, one of the antagonists, appears about halfway through. He is believed to be the first Hyksos ruler of the kingdom, reigning during the Fifteenth Dynasty (around 1650 to 1550 BC).

So, yes, the timeline's off about several decades. However, this and other factual discrepancies (if you can find them) doesn't affect the flow and charm of the novel.

Many other characters appear to be fictional, such as Mamose VIII, the reigning pharaoh in the beginning of the novel. Gaps in Egypt's past, which are still being filled today, have become blank canvasses or pages for authors and artists, making for a richer, more fantastical historical account.

Smith's ancient Egypt unfurled like a miles-long mural, imaginary hieroglyphics and all, of a kingdom in decline, a foreign invasion, our heroes' exile and their triumphant return. Wedged in between are chapters on how our heroes: the eunuch slave Taita and his wards — the handsome young soldier Tanus and his mistress Lostris — played their part in it all.

Lyrical, immersive and vivid, with just the right amount of detail, Smith's writing puts us where the action is. In the harems, the rustle of fine linen and the fragrance of perfume. On the banks of the Nile, the splash of oars and burbling of water as boats skim across the surface of the great river. In the midst of battle, the cries of men and beasts rise above the rumble of war chariots and the clashing of weapons.

We are treated to sweeping vistas of endless desert, African savannah and mountain ranges in what could now be northern Ethiopia. We venture into the workshops of artisans as they labour on the pharaoh's tomb and, much later, follow a royal funeral procession to its destination. Our hearts tighten as we witness an elephant hunt go wrong.

And, oh, to watch an assassin's cobra being prepared and cooked by our somewhat unreliable narrator...

Taita's a treat. From time to time, the bombastic, vainglorious slave reminds us that the households and people he serves would be in even bigger trouble without him. Actor, strategist, spy, street magician, negotiator, painter, scribe, poet, playwright, inventor... he's done it all. To call him an ancient Egyptian da Vinci would probably not suffice.

Thankfully, this Marty Stu doesn't hog the papyrus. I've also come to admire the roguish, daredevil Kratas, an officer in Tanus's regiment and the young hero's wingman. Huy, a former bandit turned army officer and groom, steals the scene from Taita as he schools the self-proclaimed genius on the art of handling horses, a "new" animal in Smith's Egypt. Even the weak, vacillating Mamose VIII has his moments, including one where he looms like a thundercloud over a bunch of criminals before sentencing them.

I'm not surprised even our Tun M likes Smith's work.

Not long after I'd finished River God, I returned to the shop and borrowed the sequel. The Seventh Scroll takes place centuries later and details the search for the tomb of Mamose VIII by a more modern set of characters. This one was more of an action-adventure potboiler, like Those in Peril, so it didn't appeal as much to me.

Smith returned to Taita's Egypt years later, churning out more sequels where our slave turned hero becomes a real magician (Warlock and The Quest) and what appears to be an interquel between River God and Warlock. But I think the first novel will always rank among his best works.

Still, I didn't replace my own aged copy of River God when the chance came (sorry, Big Bad Wolf Books). Perhaps it wasn't time to revisit that world again and the painful chapters in it. Maybe it's the fear of being sucked back in there, just as I'm finding new things to read.

Or maybe it's just that these days I'm taking longer to muster the will to plough through anything longer than 500 pages.

But I urge you to. This is one adventure everyone needs to experience.


28/12/2015   One thing: There were times in Egypt's history when the banks of the Nile were not sufficiently inundated and fertilised by the silt-bearing waters. For the most part, the annual flooding ran like clockwork, until the Aswan Dam was built.

---

River God

Wilbur Smith
Pan Books (2007)
672 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 9780330449939

"Publish More Books"? Can We?

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 10 December 2015


What should I make of the Deputy Prime Minister's call to publish more books to make Malaysia a quality publishing powerhouse by 2057?

Has he had a long, hard look at the situation with the local publishing industry before making this exhortation? Is he aware of certain issues that might impede this drive to meet what I feel is just another in a long list of key performance indexes (KPIs)?

Will meeting this KPI of 1,000 titles per million population in developed countries, as defined by Unesco, really bring Malaysia closer to developed-nation status? Or will this index just be used as window-dressing at the next meeting, event, or the tabling of some report on development goals?

And if book production by local publishers does ramp up in the coming years, how much of the output will be read by locals? Will the increase change our reading habits in any way?

Has anyone researched what's behind the average publication to population ratio in developed countries? How did Unesco come up with that ratio? Has anyone ever thought about why the publishing industry in developed countries appear to be better or more productive than ours at the moment?

Could the education system in developed countries have something to do with the quality of what's being read, written or published there? Is anyone willing to get the relevant authorities to look into steps to revamp certain education policies to match those in developed countries?

Do the titles for meeting this KPI also include hagiographies, article compilations, "romance" novels, academic journals, coffee-table books, books with religious themes and tomes that peddle Arab-centric conspiracy theories?

If the above is insufficient, what about engaging the independent book publishers? Are certain parties in government averse to this option? Why? Is it because some of those involved in indie book publishing tend to be young, daring, socially savvy and forward-thinking individuals who are most likely to balk at the boneheadedness displayed by some of our officials?

Shouldn't these independent operators receive some form of support or encouragement, instead of being branded as "anti-establishment", subversive and whatnot? Is this how we see the next generation of leaders, publishers and writers - and, perhaps, our future hopes for international recognition?

Also: are writers in developed countries as restricted in what they say or write as many of us are over here? Do they have censorship laws that seem to be based on checklists that work more like Internet filters? Do they even filter the Internet over there?

How efficient are censors in developed countries in screening books and banning those deemed detrimental to national security and harmony? Are there cases where books are banned after, say, a year or so after publication and after hundreds of copies have been sold? Hell, do they even ban books over there, like, say, the way we do?

Is our DPM, who's also the Home Minister, willing to advocate for a loosening of these restrictions if it would help Malaysians write and publish even more? If he does, will we put aside our apathy and cynicism and rally behind him?

(Out of curiosity, what do citizens of developed countries think about some of our output, which includes so-called "romance novels" that feature firemen, students, religious preachers and security guards? Why don't we have such works translated and marketed overseas so that internationals can sample and critique them?)

If affordability and quality are also issues, why are they? And if publishers can't blame the "soft market" for low output, who should they blame, then? Why does it seem so hard for Malaysian publishers and writers to break into the international market?

Or do Malaysian publishers and other book-related agencies have their priorities a little skewed of late, like this article (in Malay) suggests? A "Tastes of Malaysia" theme? At the Frankfurt Book Fair?

And has anyone delved deeply into the reading habits of Malaysians? What comes to mind first when selecting reading materials? Am I wrong to say that Malaysians - including myself — prioritise price above all else, judging from the reception we give to warehouse sales and the like?

Am I also rude to suggest that Malaysians in general are neither adventurous nor courageous when it comes to reading materials, since we seem to prefer following the herd (like how we "investigate" food places), reading what entertains us and justifies our prejudices and world views, rather than the challenging and discomfiting stuff?

Given all this, are we as a nation ready for the shift from in publishing developing to developed status? Should we wait for the government to lay everything down in place before we take the leap, or do we find the courage to take the plunge ourselves?

---

Okay, ran away with this so fast I'd forgotten about the textbook flap that was reported some time ago.

Chicken, Curry And Cheesecake At Charlie's

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 04 December 2015


My makan kaki got off the phone, relieved. It was raining that evening and we were stuck in traffic, en route to a new favourite stopover.

Would you believe that she'd called the place to get them to save her an order of chicken chop?

I would learn that the practice is not uncommon.

The homespun Charlie's Café serves some modest yet mouth-watering fare

In a rare instance of role reversal, I had introduced this place to Melody. My first visit to Charlie's Café at Taman Bukit Desa wasn't particularly memorable. The place looked like a canteen with its thin-legged, mostly plastic furniture, staffed with helpers in thin caps and, recently, even mouth guards.

But I had a good bowl of rich and spicy curry noodles with fishballs that broke up and bounced in a good way inside your mouth as you chewed.

The Sarawak laksa, with the painstakingly prepared #seafoodstock
that's good to the last drop. Unfortunately painstaking means it's
only available from Thursdays (last I heard) to Saturdays.

I sneaked back weeks later to find Sarawak laksa added to the menu. "Four hours of preparation #seafoodstock", a sign proclaimed.

Hashtags. Hashtags everywhere.

But the laksa was damn good. Shredded omelette, shredded chicken, more of those fishballs and prawns with a slightly translucent sheen, piled on thin rice noodles swimming in that fragrant, tasty deep-brown #seafoodstock. To ensure I emptied the bowl, I dropped by hungry.

That evening, we learnt the chicken chop was worth the phone call. The moment we showed more interest in the dish, the guy in charge (Sonny, not Charlie) began extolling the beauty of his chops and explained how he brines the chicken with herbs to make the meat tender, flavourful and juicy, and puts a lot of effort into the batter that coats it.

The chicken chop is apparently a crowd favourite

We were also regaled with the exquisiteness of the limited-edition "Harum Manis" mango cheesecake (made with Indonesian Harum Manis mangoes, apparently) and Musang King durian cheesecake.

The flavours of the fruits in both were subtle (maybe too subtle); as with the durian cheesecake, you don't see loads of mango within the cheese layer.

I've since learnt that Sonny was formerly a salesman—boy, did he pitch like a pro. As I understand it, no Charlies were involved in the setting-up of the café, though there might be one in the payroll.

The tom yam noodles also deserve special mention with its spicy and fragrant soup, as does the "ultimate" dry chicken noodle, which I reflexively called kolok mee (it isn't).

It's not kolok mee, but the Ultimate Dry Chicken Noodles will do in a pinch

We also liked their nasi lemak serai wangi, which I feel was best paired with the ayam goreng berempah. I think we sampled about half of what's on the menu by now.

What intrigued me the most was the claim that Charlie's is a social enterprise. Sonny told me he's making efforts to buy produce from Orang Asli communities in Malaysia for his dishes. No middlemen involved, he added; he will deal directly with the leaders of the indigenous people.

For now, he's getting several types of veggies and herbs like bunga kantan (torch ginger flower) from a place in Hulu Langat. Plus, something about flying in ikan bilis from Sabah. Logistics is a major problem, and Charlie's is still new, so this social enterprise thing is moving slowly.

Nasi lemak with ayam rempah goreng, a quintessential
Malaysian favourite done right

Another social aspect of the business is the Pay It Forward initiative. For RM5, patrons get a receipt they can stick on a corner of the café; each receipt is a voucher for a free meal the homeless and the poor can claim. But wouldn't it be a lot of work to climb up to Taman Bukit Desa for it?

In spite of its soup-kitchen vibe, Charlie's already has a following. This was Melody's third attempt at getting the chicken chop, as the dish had run out the first two times she's been there. The boss even classified his clientèle based on what they usually order.

He points out two Indian men sitting near the counter. "This fellow, he came here first," the boss said, adding that this patron orders clear soup stock, often without noodles. "Then he brought his friends, and one day some of his family members came with him."

As if we needed more proof that this unassuming café has some #awesome stuff.

Melody and I have been here so often we're starting to get bored, but we do keep Charlie's at the back of our minds. There's always something that snags our interest, like a cookie-shaped brownie that caught Melody's attention that evening and was sold out; all six remaining pieces were bought by one patron.

---

Charlie's Café

29, Jalan Bukit Desa 5
Taman Bukit Desa
58100 Kuala Lumpur

Pork-free

Mon-Sat: 11am-10pm

Closed on Sundays

+6012-816 0003

Facebook page

Life, Larceny And Love Commandos: Vish Puri's Next Case

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 03 December 2015


My pursuit of the latest adventures of a certain fictional Punjabi private eye took a back seat to work, despite having bought the book almost two years ago.

Better late than never, I suppose.

And I wasn't disappointed.

Since encountering, enjoying and evaluating the first two Vish Puri novels by Tarquin Hall in 2011, I've been chomping at the bit for more. The fun continues with the fourth instalment, The Case of the Love Commandos.

(Oh look, recipes at the back, “from Vish Puri's family kitchen.” Mmm, Lucknow Mutton Biryani...)

In a blog post, Hall describes a meeting with “a middle-aged, part time journalist” and the head of the actual Love Commandos, a bunch of people in India who help star-crossed couples in love elope and start new lives. The encounter inspired the main plot for Love Commandos.

“It would be set, I decided, in rural India and the plot would centre around a couple of absconding lovers: she from a high caste family, he from an untouchable, or Dalit, one,” Hall blogged. “How, though, was I going to get Vish Puri involved?”

The solution: A phone call from Facecream, the Nepali femme fatale who's one of Puri's undercover operatives. The portly private investigator is surprised to learn his mysterious employee moonlights for the Love Commandos — specifically, as a getaway motorcycle rider — during her spare time.

In this case, Facecream helps Tulsi, a girl from a Thakur family, escape her father's watch and run off with her beau, a Dalit boy named Ram. But when they arrive at the place where the lovebirds' marriage ceremony is to take place, the boy is missing.

Her call comes at a bad time for Puri. An apparently perfect burglary has him so stumped, he ignores his masala chai and favourite coconut biscuits.

Then, when he excuses himself from a family pilgrimage to a famous shrine to attend to Facecream's case, he gets soaked by rain and is pickpocketed. The latter incident fixes Puri's mother on the trail of a suspect whom she believes is about to rob said shrine. Will she succeed in nabbing him?

Puri's case, meanwhile, is complicated further by the presence of arch-rival Hari Kumar, who was mentioned in the first novel. Amoral, suave and arguably better-looking than Hall's protagonist (good enough for the Indian edition of GQ, yaar), the former spy is also searching for Ram at an unknown client's behest.

And there's even a Dalit politician, who reminded me of a real-life female counterpart. Plus, some possible shenanigans involving a foreign genetics research company.

We also get to see more of Facecream. We are reminded that she once joined the Maoists in Nepal but became disillusioned with the movement and, after a bunch of other adventures, ended up working for Puri. At one point, she was even married.

So it's perhaps not surprising to see a feminist and maternal streak in the steely woman, during her undercover stint as a schoolteacher in a poor village under the thumb of another high-caste landowner. She even takes a village kid under her wing — a future operative for Puri's Most Private Investigators?

The lively tone that defined the first two books had begun to fade by the third, though the clever and charming storytelling retains that cartoonish feel of the series (so far) — and makes it easy for film adaptation.

(Though some might struggle to suspend disbelief, I am convinced that Facecream can forge credible-looking documents at an Internet café and create an ID with “half a potato, her trusty switchblade, a red ink pad and a laminating machine.”)

The social commentary, though, is ramped up here, what with “millennia-old caste prejudices,” the tyranny of some higher-caste landowners, and even the exploitative practices of Western firms coming under the spotlight.

In the course of his investigations, Puri must also contend with how the rapidly changing times are challenging his stand on certain things, such as caste and the traditional family values. The ex-army man's pride in his kshatriya (warrior) caste appears threatened by what he learns about genetic research and DNA: “It seemed simply incredible that from a single drop of blood scientists could tell you more about yourself than you had ever known.”

Also, just like in the real and imperfect world, not every baddie in the case gets his just desserts. At least one unsavoury character escapes justice, leaving some loose ends untied — teasing a remotely possible resolution in the future. Well, one can dream...

Still, this novel still retains some of the bounces and bumps that made the previous three such a joy. Mummy-ji's antics are a delight as she endears herself further to the readers, to the point of stealing her son's thunder, and deservedly so. Such an awesome family can't possibly have just one hero.

And such a stupendous series can't possibly end here.

---

The Case of the Love Commandos

Tarquin Hall
Arrow Books (2013)
310 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-091-93742-3

Mellowing Out at Merchant's Lane

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 26 November 2015


Several weeks ago, makan kaki Melody was back in town.

However, it also meant having to chauffeur her as she caught up with the local restaurant scene.

C'mon, Mel, it's not like two hundred restaurants have opened since you went away.

We (finally) ended up at Fifth Palate, where she dug into her ramen. The next stop was another place that's opened and run by another mutual acquaintance.

Look for the teal doors next to 150 Jalan Petaling and
take a break from the city.

Merchant's Lane, located along Petaling Street, is the brainchild of the guys who opened Butter+Beans OUG. Much has been said about it, particularly its Instagrammability. From the décor to the food, every aspect was crafted to compel one to frame it within a viewfinder.

Ken Ho, one of the founders, admitted to this. "It's about creating the buzz," he said, "We want to get people to come here and share the experience."

As I sat in the tastefully hipsterised main dining area, I don't see why anyone would have anything negative to say about– oh look, a fly. Shoo, shoo.

Getting there was easy enough, especially on a Friday morning when school's out. I parked the car at a lot across a street, next to a police station. Finding the entrance, however...

(Psst, look for the entrance next to a stationery shop; Merchant's Lane is on the first floor.)

Up the wooden stairs was the kind of place that's been mushrooming in the old Chinese parts of KL, George Town and Ipoh. Pre-war chic, I call it, with rough unpainted walls, rattan chairs, stainless steel tabletops and wooden floors.

Beyond the salubrious environs of the main dining hall (left) is the
airy al fresco seating area (right). The steel-grill floors are not
for the faint-hearted.

More seats and a rattan swing-chair dangling from the ceiling, plus the kitchen and washroom, were at the back of the building, which is connected to the main dining area by an al fresco seating area that– GAAAH, why are parts of the floor made of steel grills?

Walking to and from the wash basins felt like a test of courage. Not that it deterred a couple of hijabsters, who were selfie-ing for all its worth, seated in chairs that seemed to float in the air. One of them was even wearing high heels.

"Tak gayat ke?" I asked. Apparently, no.

...Food, yes. Food calms the nerves. But I'll never understand why I also ordered coffee. Curiosity, perhaps. Thank goodness they make a good brew here.

My makan kaki's "Hongkie Beef Stew" - so good, I forgot
it wasn't mine. Same goes for the coffee.

Even the menu items are buzz-worthy. Melody chided me when I wanted the "Eat Die Me" big breakfast (no longer available). "You can put one together," she said. "One that can eat die you, your neighbours and their pets if you wanted to."

Chastened, I picked another item. She went for the plain-sounding "Hongkie Beef Stew", a bed of creamy mash potatoes covered by a thick beef stew with meat so fork-tender, it's part of the gravy. I vaguely recall Ken pooh-poohing the idea of serving the stew with rice because "I wanted mash with this."

I had to agree with Ken, and before I knew it I was taking more than my share. My skull throbbed with the familiar sensation of my makan kaki's "save me some, you glutton" glare.

Like its namesake, Merchant's Lane's "South China Sea" was the focus of much contention. Ken said opinions were divided over this dish of pan-seared salmon, eggs poached sous vide and rösti-like hash with a palate-cleansing salsa that didn't taste like any ocean I've ever swum in.

Like its namesake, the "South China Sea" appears to be a bone of
contention among patrons. I like it, however.

"Some people don't get this dish," he said. "They said they can't taste much. It's about clean, fresh flavours - that's the point."

Several even complained about the "small" amount of salmon. At over RM20, what did these people expect? As if there aren't enough reminders of how our currency is doing.

After the beef stew, a little "South China Sea" was what the doctor ordered. The fish wasn't heavily salted and still pink in the middle, while the salsa provided all the other flavours the dish needed.

With a relatively clean palate, came the hankering for a dessert. Two new menu items were introduced, and one of them caught my eye.

The people of Merchant's Lane says this dessert is "Better Than Sex".
I leave the verdict to those who know.

We didn't have to wait too long for it. "Here you go, sir, 'Better Than Sex'," said the waitress as she brought the order to our table.

I couldn't resist asking, "Hard to even pronounce the name, isn't it?"

The waitress chuckled and left. Aiyoh, Ken, can change the name, ah? One of these days?

So, according to the good folk at Merchant's Lane, a combo featuring pandan-infused roti jala tucked under a blanket of mozzarella cheese and several scoops of Forty Licks' custom kaya toast ice cream (with real toast, from the look of it), drizzled with melted gula melaka, is "better than sex".

"Yes? No?" you ask?

I'd say "debatable".

But it is a delectable after-lunch or after-dinner item. Do watch out for the frozen cranberries which are– DAMN, THEY'RE SOUR! But at least they work with the richness and sweetness of the other components, prepping your palate for the next mouthful.

We didn't feel like going anywhere else after such a heavy but satisfying meal.

Meanwhile, more people showed up at this refreshing oasis of calm, with its multicultural staff and clientele. And like this country, Merchant's Lane is still a work-in-progress.

"We've got ... maybe forty-plus things lined up for the menu in the future," Ken said, adding that he's keeping the "South China Sea" (please do!) along with a few other staples. He also has plans to make Merchant's Lane a happening events venue - if he had the time and manpower.

Give it time, Ken. After almost six decades Malaysia is becoming a happening place. I'm sure Merchant's Lane will become the same – if not better.

---

Merchant's Lane

No, 150 Jalan Petaling
59000 Kuala Lumpur

Pork-free

Daily, 10:30am-8pm

+603-2022 1736

Facebook page

Feelin' Down? Get Stuffed at Fork D World

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 07 November 2015


I recently returned to Damansara Perdana, where I spent almost two years writing for a now-defunct publication, following an online lead that hinted at a near-mythical object: pork biryani.

But what kind of place would prepare and serve such a cryptid of a dish?

An ordinary one, from the looks of it.

Fork D World promises comfort food in a homey setting

Just months old, Fork D World promised porcine-punctuated comfort food within its somewhat threadbare confines. A staircase at a corner led to the washrooms.

I perused the menu after taking my seat. To my dismay, I was informed that the pork biryani and other weekday specials were only available for lunch. Other notable delights included rice dishes with a stew of braised pork belly or minced pork patties, reminiscent of my mother's own (but probably not as divine); and something called yao mei fan, which can be interpreted as "this rice got flavour wan!"

Fork D World's menu features copywriting for the Internet generation

Parts of the menu was in millennial-speak. Copy for the Bacon Fried Rice goes: "picture a pig running thru (sic) a rice field in slow motion... weird but strangely satisfying, much like d generous sprinkling of bacon bits u find in our oriental fried rice. served wif a sunny-side up + a dollop of our homemade sambal."

"Slow motion", eh, Mr Pig? Dats Y U on de plate, mon.

While waiting for my order to arrive, I chatted up the lady boss. Jo Ann Tan had been in event management for over a decade before she went "Fork D World" and opened up this place. She wanted it non-halal so she can "cook without restrictions"; the yao mei fan is apparently her grandmother's recipe.

We were still talking when the appetiser, something called "Bacon Bombs", hit my table. But I only returned to my seat when the main dish -- a minced pork Bolognese fettucine — arrived a few minutes later.

Bacon Bombs, guaranteed to nuke your diet plans to kingdom come

I found the Bacon Bombs — eight bacon-wrapped pillows of pastry with a mozzarella centre, each skewered to a whole cherry tomato with a toothpick — visually appealing. The shine on the bacon fat, the creaminess of the cheese that pops in your mouth when you bite down, and the smell of salty, smoked and cured pork, followed by the cleansing freshness of the cherry tomato, flushing your palate for the next one...

...Fine, I was hungry. Hunger makes me wax lyrical.

Minced-pork Bolognese, meaty mouthfuls of OM NOM NOM — with
a piece of toast for mopping up left-over sauce

But perhaps I shouldn't have ordered the pork Bolognese, which was just fine; maybe I shouldn't pick dishes I can make myself. I barely tasted the bacon and button mushrooms in FDW's version because, well, so much flavour — and the aroma of various dried herbs. Still this is comfort food, and I recommend getting comfortable (like, loosening your belt) after a helping of this.

As a new kid on the block, FDW was having a slew of promos. On that evening, it included the option of a 50 per cent discount on a beverage or a complimentary dessert with a main dish or pasta. I settled for the latter and picked a plain crème brûlée, which I wouldn't mind being less sweet.

A version with coffee called the Espresso Honey Pot was off-limits; no caffeine for me after 5pm. Another dessert, a cheese tart dotted with butterscotch chips (two for RM5) was not part of the offer.

If the food hasn't killed your diet yet, the crème brûlée
will deliver the coup de grace

Later, I came down from the washroom upstairs to a dining hall perfumed with the scent of baking. Brownies, the lady boss told me. Well, I was told some of the desserts available were made on the premises.

So I didn't get to taste the pork biryani, which Jo Ann says used to be available in Damansara Uptown. (The lunchtime specials menu has since been changed — it seems they do it every month — so I probably won't see it again for a long while.)

Nor did my gut have any room left (bacon "bombs", indeed) for their fried mee hoon: a reminder of my childhood, made fresh with bacon and a sunny side up — now that's "East meets West." Made me wish I was still working nearby.

And those damn butterscotch cheese tarts were still singing at me...

What really guaranteed my return, however, was the complimentary glass of warm honey lemon. Noting my coughs as we spoke earlier, the attentive lady boss felt I needed it. Like everything else I had in this place, the drink hit the spot.

---

Fork D World Bistro

D2-G-3A, Ritze Perdana 1 Commercial Lot
Jalan PJU 8/2, Damansara Perdana
47820 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Fifth Palate in Kota Damansara: A Love Story

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 22 September 2015


Once upon a time, a couple, Dennis and Joyce, opened an eatery somewhere in Happy Garden. They sold familiar stuff: nasi lemak, fried rice, Nyonya curries and rendang, and a whole lot more.

It's not just what's sold at Fifth Palate, but also the people behind it.

Dennis, who dabbles with home-made stuff like yoghurt, rojak sauce, sesame sauce and the like, sometimes sold the results of his experiments at the eatery, Joy Café.

Though I can’t remember when the café first opened its doors, makan kaki Melody and I have known this place for years. It didn’t take long for Joy to become an institution among residents nearby.

Then, the inevitable: Joy closed its doors towards the end of April 2015. I think the staff turnover was a major factor, apart from age. Imagine having to train new employees from scratch every year or so.

The uncomplicated yet tasty "Everybody Loves Ramen" is certain to be
among Fifth Palate’s signature dishes.

No more home-made yoghurt. No more orange-flavoured white coffee. No more simple heartwarming fare from a couple we’ve known for years.

While I was still digesting this, Melody WhatsApped me a photo of a noodle dish. Of course, she managed to do so while I was hungry and bored at work.

I think my reply was along the lines of “What is it called never mind I know what it is it is lovely it looks good it has egg it has pork IT HAS PORK OMG GIMME OM NOM NOM NOM NOM.”

Even better: this came from a place run by Dennis and Joyce’s kids.

Family affair: Dennis’s home experiments now have a label and
are on sale at Fifth Palate.

That was how I ended up driving all the way from Old Klang Road to Kota effing Damansara to Encorp Strand Office Garden, where Fifth Palate is located.

Inside and out, it looked no different from the dozens of hipster coffee joints out there. But I suppose few millennials would want to open and run a Joy Café-like place, all formica tops and wooden stools, serving kopitiam fare.

♪ What shall we do with this Drunken Frenchman, what shall
we do with this Drunken Frenchman, eat it in the morning~ ♫

The menu was limited in terms of mains: the prerequisite big breakfast was there, along with baked eggs and my quarry: the French toast and the ramen dish Melody told me about.

The components of "Everybody Loves Ramen" is guaranteed to make everybody love ramen. Several thick chunks of pork belly brought back memories of Mom’s steamed pork belly and yam dish; slices of apricot mushroom were a joy to chew; and next to a pile of noodles was a poached egg. All of this was immersed in a flavourful shoyu broth.

I managed to eat my way around the dish until the egg and a bit of broth remained. The intact egg was finally in my mouth and I bit down, flooding every corner with liquid yolk.

A plainclothes waiter came to pick up my empty bowl. “Was it really that good?”

Yes, and I didn’t have breakfast.

Dennis's wheatgrass yoghurt with a touch of pandan: a little jar
of happiness from a once-soulful little corner of Happy Garden.

A little earlier, a waitress asked if I’d like my French toast after my ramen. I said yes, and she told the kitchen to hold it. She returned as I was finishing up, and after checking with me, duly informed the kitchen to start prepping the item.

What service!

The French toast arrived.

Now, a French toast at Joy Café was a French toast. Fifth Palate’s version, the "Drunken Frenchman", was a chthonic-looking pile of fried bacon strips and caramelised bananas stacked on top of the actual French toast, made with Dennis’s home-made chunky peanut butter.

(If your hands feel the urge to make signs to repel sin at this point, don’t stop them.)

The "Frenchman" was crowned with a single scoop of Forty Licks vanilla ice-cream garnished with a mint leaf and surrounded by lashings of what might be a Guinness-based reduction.

OM NOM NOM.

And how could I wrap up this meal without a taste of Dennis’s wheatgrass yoghurt?

Instead of a tiny tub of recyclable plastic, the yoghurt now comes in a covered glass jar (and a higher price tag) that’s served on a small wooden tray.

Nevertheless, one slurp of that creamy, rich pandan-tinged wheatgrass-y sweetness brought me back to a corner of Happy Garden, surrounded by green walls and listening to LiteFM on an old radio, shooting the breeze with Dennis and Joyce and getting ribbed by Melody over eating too much.

It brought me back home.

---

Fifth Palate

Block D-G-1, Encorp Strand Garden Office
Jalan PJU 5/1
47810 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Shelter And Sweet, Spicy Succour at Shokudō

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 14 September 2015


I stared at the "Closed" sign hanging on the door. Behind me was the hammering rain and the occasional rumble of thunder.

Panic began tugging at my gut.

As I checked my watch, somebody inside noticed me outside and hurried to remove the sign. Gratefully, I padded inside, leaving the bad weather behind me.

Shokudō, at Taman Paramount — your friendly neighbourhood
kare raisu place.

I am fond of curries; Japanese curry, in particular, but despaired at finding a place that has decent examples of this dish. Yes, there's that huge franchised outlet in 1 Utama and it makes good albeit expensive stuff, but that's like two kilometres of rush-hour gridlock to go through on weekdays and you are oh so tired...

So when I heard of Shokudō's existence, I checked it out. It seemed so long ago since my first time there, I can't believe that it only opened early 2015.

The interior of Shokudō: Reminiscent of the kind of eatery in
your food-related manga dreams.

Nor can I remember when my first experience with Japanese curry was. As a teenager, what I knew of it and Japanese cuisine in general came from the works of such manga artists as Daisuke Terasawa. I've since learnt that one acquires the taste for certain flavours in cuisines, apart from their history and the trivia surrounding them.

According to Japanese food company S&B, the first Japanese to eat curry (abroad) was Kenjiro Yamakawa, a scion of a samurai family who went on to become a physicist, teacher and historian.

And in 1912, the recipe for Japanese curry — with its familiar carrots and potatoes — came about and was later adopted by the Japanese army to feed its troops. Japan eventually came up with its own curry powder, and the dish is so widely eaten today, it's about as iconic as sushi.

Acquiring the taste of Japanese curry should be easy. If you can't, we can't be friends.

Tonkatsu (breaded, deep-fried pork loin cutlet) curry rice
is plain comfort after a long day.

Shokudō literally means "dining hall" or "canteen" in Nihongo, though I prefer "mess hall" — in honour of the first adopters of the curry in Japan. It's reminiscent of the kind of eatery run by Yōichi Ajiyoshi, the young protagonist of Terasawa's Mr Ajikko manga: long tables, spacious walkways, simple yet unmistakably Japanese décor. This local mess hall in Taman Paramount is also clean and neat.

Choose from over a dozen varieties of kare raisu, all made with the same fundamentals: curry sauce and short-grain rice garnished with a cherry tomato and a few slices of pickled ginger. The prerequisite carrots and potatoes are there, blended finely into the sauce to make the plate look less cluttered — a little twist by Shokudō's boss and his mentor from another establishment.

Kani cream korokke: Cream croquettes with a bit of crab
inside, plus a side salad.

Pick your favourite protein: tonkatsu (breaded and deep-fried pork loin cutlet), hirekatsu (breaded and deep-fried pork fillet cutlet, which has less fat), torikatsu (breaded and — yes, just with chicken fillet), buta or tori yakiniku (stir-fried pork or chicken), or even vegetables and korokke (cream croquettes). You can even make each dish a set with a soup, salad and green tea.

And this is only half the menu, which also features a variety of "specials" (including unagi don — banzai!), appetisers, snacks and a few desserts.

Fiery local curries are always a treat but, as one ages, the stomach yearns for mellower fare. Japanese kare fills that niche nicely. All the piquancy, minus the tongue-scouring heat, made for the end of a lousy day, especially stormy evenings.

On some days, a tori yakiniku curry rice (part of a set meal here, with
soup and a salad) will also work wonders on a weary soul.

Breaded, deep-fried stuff hates me, the way they scratch the roof of my mouth. Soaking it for a bit in curry sauce helps and it goes down easier. The tonkatsu is chewy, and what's not to like about that glistening fat? Some days I prefer the stir-fried chicken, which is just as nice.

Not up to curry? FINE. Shokudō has several non-curry udon and other dishes you can also assemble a set with, plus salads (including one with salmon), salmon sashimi, slices of marinated duck breast and other Japanese titbits to chew on while waiting for your main course.

(We still can't be friends.)

While you wait for the main course, how about some chewy, lip-smacking
and appetite-whetting marinated duck breast (aigamo rousuni)?

This rainy evening, I settled down to a set meal of a kare rice with stir-fried chicken, plus an appetiser of marinated duck breast. The duck is medium rare, sliced finely and served with sliced...

"It's onion," said the boss, who wouldn't look out of place at a fitness centre. "Can't tell, can you?"

Okay, not daikon, then.

The temptation to shovel mouthfuls of curry rice with abandon was hard to resist. This is comfort food, and I can understand its wide appeal. After a hard day's work, a nice plate of kare raisu can be as comforting as a warm bed.

Though the rain cleared long after I cleaned my plate, I was in no hurry to leave. Some Japanese tunes eased into the hall, replacing the acoustic version of some Western pop song. A lovely, familiar aroma wafted from the kitchen. As I filled my cup with hot green tea for the third time, the urge to order seconds grew.

---

Shokudō Japanese Curry Rice

No.9, Jalan 20/13
Taman Paramount
46300 Petaling Jaya

Non-halal

Tue-Sun: 12pm-3pm, 6pm-10pm

Closed on Mondays

+603-7863 0922

Facebook page

Once Upon a Miao: Jian Goh's "Cat City" Childhood

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 03 September 2015


In the middle of August I was given a preview of a new graphic novel (some days, I love my job), one in the vein of that now best-selling series of childhood stories, by a local illustrator.

I LOLed every few pages.

Kuching-born Goh Kheng Swee, who goes by the monikers Jian Goh and Akiraceo (or is it AkiraCEO?) and the creator of the whimsically named Miao & WafuPafu comic blog, wanted to be the first Malaysian English-language comic blogger to publish a book. But someone else apparently beat him to it.

Undaunted, he kept working on his own book and got published anyway.

Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia sheds some light on the childhood of East Malaysians through selected episodes in Jian's (let's call him that) formative years.

The former "RnD opto-electronic engineer" – who is now a freelance designer and sells Miao&WafuPafu merchandise – has put together an impressive all-colour compilation of all-new stories of growing up in Kuching, Sarawak. None of the entries I know of are from his comic blog, on which he has been doodling for about eight years and counting.

From hijinks at home to classroom capers and a seaside holiday, the bumpy, knee-scraping roller-blade ride that is Jian's youthful adventures is made funnier by the inclusion of manga-style facefaults and local vernacular in his art.

And did I mention that all the main characters are depicted as anthropomorphised animals?

Jian draws himself as an orange tabby because (a) Kuching, (b) he's a cat lover, and (c) cameras don't like him (I'm told). His dad is a dog because he's a dog lover; his mom's a bunny because she's as quiet as a rabbit; and his elder sisters are a horse and monkey respectively, to match their Chinese zodiac signs.

Okay, but I'm more inclined to believe that it's because humans are hard to draw; most of the homo sapiens in his book are all featureless humanoids.

One can be forgiven for assuming the main draw of this comic is the comedy. It is, and that makes the few poignant parts more moving. The chapter "My Lakia Friend" reminds us of the racism some of our fellow Malaysians face, and the author's plea to stop using the term, considered a pejorative, tugs at the heart. As did his wistful longing to reunite with his group of secondary school friends to do something crazy again.

But of course, you want to know about the comedy.

The precocious Miao (the author's feline alter ego) provides most of the laughs, but it is his hopelessly degenerate friend "Bokiu" (appropriately portrayed as a buaya), who upstages him in later parts of the book.

I also developed a soft spot for Lingling, the tomboyish "tigress" and lone rose among Miao's group, which also comprises the gangster-like chicken nicknamed "Rippy", a football-loving monkey called "Haw", and a smooth-talking... whatever called "Mus".

Plus, I got to learn some phrases (the Chinese vernacular is different over there, too). Maiku (can be loosely translated as "dammit") features a lot, and feels satisfying to use.

I imagine the editor mumbling as he or she went through the pages: "Maiku Miao, boh spellchecker, ah?" And the phrase ngai ti ("oh my god") conveys incredibly heartfelt frustration when stretched.

With the rise in comics and graphic novels by local artists telling local or localised stories, Jian's publishing debut is a welcome addition to a growing body of work we'd all love to explore. And it's nice to imagine that he's also doing it as an ambassador of "the other side of Malaysia."

His window into life as a kid in a little corner of East Malaysia also stokes enough curiosity for one to want to fly over (maiku, so many types of kolok mee, lao chui nua liao...).


Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia is now available at all major bookstores. Follow Jian's further adventures on his blog and Facebook page.

---

Once Upon a Miao

Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia

written, illustrated and published by Jian Goh
189 pages
Non-fiction
ISBN: 978-967-13465-0-1

A Pasta House Called Basil

Long story short: I'd been frazzled by developments in my life and it's been eating into my writing. So I over-edited this, according to an acquaintance who has seen multiple versions of this review until she begged, "No more! Send!"

And out it went, with more typos than my usual.

I received queries from the editor of The Malay Mail Online, probably for the first time in years.

Not my finest hour.

Think the major ones have been fixed.

---

A pasta house called Basil

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 17 August 2015


Weeks after I’d discovered the path to al dente pasta, I learnt about a restaurant that serves mostly pasta. I thought, a bit arrogantly, let’s see how it measures up.

It measured up quite well.

Basil looks a little out of place in the row of shophouses but
has remained a popular neighbourhood joint

I dined in the first time, opting to take out another dish along with leftovers from my meal for the benefit of makan kaki Melody. I think it was a spaghetti bolognese to go, with what remained of an Oriental-styled mac and cheese. The chefs separate the sauce from the pasta — a nice touch.

I came back, several times, with Melody, Wendy and Sam in tow on one or two occasions. But the novelty wore off as the prices — and my repertoire of home-cooked pastas — grew. And I’d come to be satisfied with what I cooked myself.

But I do keep Basil Pasta House at the back of my mind, for special occasions.

Lamb Leg and White Ragù Sauce with Elicoidali (a tube-shaped pasta with
a rough texture): Lamb cubes, cream ragù sauce, white wine, button
mushroom, root vegetables and toasted cashews. Probably enough for two.

This little shop looks out of place among the row of nightspots, car washes, boutiques and other Chinese-themed restaurants along Jalan Kuchai Maju 6. Chef Alven Tan and his brothers opened the place, naming it after a favourite herb. The restaurant is a homey place, not at all intimidating.

At a corner done up to look like a living room is a bookshelf, where you’ll find cookbooks from the likes of Thomas Keller (Bouchon), Rene Redzepi (Noma), Joël Robuchon (can’t remember), Gordon Ramsay (various) and Anthony Bourdain (The Les Halles Cookbook, which I can’t seem to find).

Besides the basic aglio olio, bolognese and genovese (pesto) varieties of pasta, expect other far-out creations such as Hand-made Orecchiette (“little ears”) and Smoked Duck Breast; “Wafu”-style capellini with tuna tataki (tuna, seared medium-rare), served with yuzu shoyu dressing and lumpfish caviar, among other things; and Cheese Bucatini with crispy squid (golden egg-yolk sauce, curry leaf and chilli flakes). For some pasta dishes, you can choose from several types of pasta other than the usual spaghetti or fettuccine.

Nope, not your average “Western” pasta place. The chefs work in black chefs’ togs that seem more at home in a Michelin-starred establishment than a Chinese neighbourhood eatery. And it’s pretty good stuff, judging from the packed dining room almost every evening.

Gnocchi and Spicy Bacon Tomato: Potato gnocchi in amatriciana sauce, tomato
concasse, pork pancetta, chilli flakes, Italian parsley and shavings of Parmesan.
Portions look small but surprisingly filling.

The first few months of its opening, according to the hostess, people complained about the portion-price ratio. Bistro-level dining at less than RM25 (for some dishes) and people still kvetch?

So they revamped the menu, upped the portions a bit and, inevitably, raised the prices. One of my favourites, a fettucine with Japanese lamb curry, is no more.

They also renovated the kitchen. Even so, the inadequate ventilation and long waiting times while each dish is made to order (they go by table) mean diners will end up smelling of each other’s meals by the time they walk out the door — satisfied, a little fragrant and, perhaps, planning a return trip.

Generally, it’s worth the wait. If you’re a-horde-of-gremlins-clawing-at-your-gut hungry, however, I suggest you fill your stomach with something. Perhaps an appetiser from the menu — and chew slowly, please. Maybe read a book or two. Smartphone-toting diners might want to surf their menu (available on their Facebook page) and decide before going there in person.

Orecchiette and Smoked Duck Breast, from way back when. Doubt they've
tweaked the recipe much since this picture was taken.

Calling ahead for reservations, especially for a family outing, is also a good idea.

Just about everything my makan kakis and I tried there were good. Great-tasting and interesting flavour combinations. What I wasn’t enthusiastic about was the Oriental-styled mac & cheese. I think it was the slightly brown bits on the crispy squid. Also, the taste of a wild mushroom risotto was on the delicate side.

And I never seem to want to order the desserts. Well, when each meal stuffs you to the gills...

To this day, Basil Pasta House still draws a good crowd; some days you can see people standing around outside, waiting for their turn. So while I don’t think it needs any more publicity, maybe they can work on improving service and cooking time.

Ah yes, and the ventilation, lest diners have to fight the impulse to gnaw on their sleeves on the way home.

---

Basil Pasta House

No. 21, Jalan Kuchai Maju 6
Kuchai Entrepreneurs Park
58200 Kuala Lumpur

Non-halal

Wed-Mon: 12pm-2:30pm (last order), 5pm-9:30pm (last order); closes at 10pm

Closed on Tuesdays

+603-7972 8884

Facebook page

On The Verge Of A Conversation: The Cooler Lumpur Festival 2015

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 17 June 2015


"We are on the verge of a conversation."

These are the words of Umapagan Ampikaipakan, Programme Director for the Cooler Lumpur Festival, now in its third year at Publika, Solaris Dutamas. A phrase that will become a milestone along Malaysia's road towards a developed, thinking nation.

That is, if we get around to talking to each other.

"Malaysians are on the verge of a conversation," Umapagan told The Edge. "We're not there yet, but interestingly we have found, even last year, that every time I looked out into an audience during question and answer time, when people are talking ... I can see people almost throwing their hands up and on the verge of wanting to contribute to the conversation. I think it's our job to tip them over the edge."

I wonder if he sneaked in that "edge" bit for the paper's benefit?

"Crossing the Cultural Boundaries of Food" at Cooler Lumpur 2015, with (from
left) Ben Yong, John Krich, Gaik Cheng Khoo and moderator Zan Azlee (not in
this photo - sorry!).

The piece was submitted in a hurry, so I forgot to contribute some of my own
photos - not sure if they'd be fine, anyway.

The theme of this year's Festival, Dangerous Ideas, promised all that and delivered — as best as a string of hour-long panels and conversations could at a time when temperatures are high and all we feel like doing is lob invectives over stupid things being said and perceived threats.

According to Hardesh Singh, Executive Director of the festival, "Dangerous Ideas is focused on responsibly unearthing ideas and exploring how these ideas shape our behaviour, environment and societies. In this age of instant information, ideas spread like wild fire. We'd like to harness the contagious power of a great idea and the potential it holds to inspire transformation."

Arend Zwartjes, Cultural Attaché for the Embassy of the United States, Kuala Lumpur, feels the same. "For true innovation, there must be a market of ideas and the freedom to explore expression. Fundamentally, for any kind of progression individually and as a nation, it is necessary to cultivate ideas of all kinds, especially dangerous ideas."

Zwartjes is aware of "what Malaysia has experienced in the last few months, the last couple of years" but feels it's an important time for all Malaysians to have these "uncomfortable" discussions, and that "it's good to have those dangerous ideas out there, good for your society to have conversations, to allow the space for conversations."

"Ban This Book!" A Cooler Lumpur 2015 panel discussion on book banning and
censorship, with (from left) Ian McDonald, Sarah Churchwell, Ovidia Yu and
Sharmilla Ganesan.

A lot of ground was covered, from the language of protest, fast or slow journalism, book censorship and sacred cows to the future of photojournalism, the power of caricatures, and sex and sexuality in the 21st century. A Fringe Food Festival on the grounds — a culinary micro-Cooler Lumpur — had discussions on foodie-ism, out-of-home food enterprises and a workshop on food writing, among other things.

At the festival's opening on June 12, Umapagan also announced the DK Dutt Memorial Award for Literary Excellence (for Malaysian-English Writing), conceptualised by author Dipika Mukherjee and Sharon Bakar and named after the late Delip Kumar Dutt, who was the principal of CYMA College (Penang) and the president of the Schools Sports Council of Malaysia.

Shikha Dutt, daughter of Delip Kumar Dutt, launched the award. Submissions opened on June 14 and will close on July 31. The awards will be announced and presented at the 2015 George Town Literary Festival in Penang, scheduled for this November.

Umapagan also spoke about the difficulties in organising and running a festival and, after thanking the sponsors including the British Council Malaysia, the US Embassy in KL and BMW Malaysia, acknowledged his parents' contributions, to the amusement of the audience. "You will get paid back, I promise... you will see that money again, it hasn't disappeared."

"There are NO spaces between (or was it "around"?) em dashes!" thundered Zen
Cho (OMG I love her) as she launched Fixi Novo's latest anthology,
Cyberpunk Malaysia, at Cooler Lumpur 2015 with Amir Muhammad.

He also apologised for the absence of Delhi-based novelist Chandrahas Choudhury who was supposed to deliver the festival's keynote speech at the opening ceremony. Flight delays, we were told.

This year's festival, which ran from June 12-14, also saw the scheduling of some last-minute events, including the much-hyped one with Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, titled "My Most Dangerous Idea." From what's been reported, the event delivered in spades.

For Umapagan, Mahathir's presence at the festival was symbolic. "I had a lot of questions as to, ‘Why did you invite him? This is supposed to be a platform for free ideas and you know he did a lot in his tenure to restrict those ideas.'

"But I think one thing Hardesh and I always endeavour to do is make this a platform for everyone, irrespective of your ideas," said Umapagan. "This is the one place where you can come and talk about it ... and leave as friends, Have a con-ver-sa-tion, right? That's what it's all about and that's what we're trying to do."

No sacred cows were killed during the panel "Killing Sacred Cows: Comedy in the
Age of Offence" during Cooler Lumpur 2015, with (from left) Jason Leong,
Harith Iskander, Lindy West, and Ezra Zaid moderating.

Though I would have wanted to hear what other voices *COUGHISMAPERKASAPEGIDACOUGH* had to say. Maybe next year? Or have we heard enough from them to know that it'll be more of the same and will remain so for the foreseeable future?

That, I think, was missing from the festival: a chance to see some truly dangerous ideas panned for what they are. For better or worse, ideas are part of who we are. In conversations, good ideas shine, while bad ideas teach.

If conversations die, where would we be as a civilisation, a people, a nation?

So, let's keep talking.

A Nose For Trouble: Ovidia Yu’s Singapore Sleuth

My first book review in months - almost a year, really. Whew! Finally, we're getting back in business. And I've fulfilled an obligation (though I had to ditch another one; Murakami's is not my kind of thing, after all).

...Feels good, albeit a bit rushed, as I'd only finished reading both novels last Saturday and hammered out a draft on Sunday. And, whoops, forgot I was reviewing two novels at the last paragraph - but meant to wrap a word in double quotes to make it more general.

Another thing to note: Ovidia Yu's first Aunty Lee novel is good, and the second is great. Not just because of volume, either. But I had to keep the word count low to avoid giving too much away. I was initially apprehensive - another Miss Marple/Southeast Asian kind of thing? Thankfully, I wasn't disappointed.

A great couple of novels to jump-start my flagging book review count. Let's keep it up!

---

A nose for trouble: Ovidia Yu's Singapore sleuth

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 09 June 2015


I was passed a couple of "crime novels with a twist" some time back, and nearly forgot about them. After all, what crime novel doesn't have a twist?

These novels promised something else: a crime-solving Peranakan aunty from Singapore, who runs a small café and, when she's not being sam pat (nosy) about scandals, fraud and mysterious deaths, ends up investigating some of them.

Though much watered down, my Peranakan side was piqued by the notion.

Aunty Lee's kitchen, now serving mystery, mayhem and murder - with
a side of acar, sambal and maybe ayam pongteh

Singaporean author and playwright Ovidia Yu unleashed Aunty Lee's Delights upon us in 2013, followed by Aunty Lee's Deadly Specials about a year later.

And each time, we are reminded that the protagonist, Rosie Lee, owns and runs Aunty Lee's Delights, a café at Binjai Park, less than five minutes' walk from Dunearn Road; she makes good traditional Peranakan food with modern equipment; she's a small, precise lady whose fair, plump kebaya-clad form smiles from her jars of Aunty Lee's Amazing Achar and Aunty Lee's Shiok Sambal; and her fashion sense can sometimes be a little off.

Among other things. Because so many things can happen in a year and we can lose track.

We also meet Nina Balignasay, Rosie's Filipina domestic helper. A former nurse and the Watson to Rosie's Holmes, Nina's powers of observation were heightened by living with Aunty Lee for years — as one would when one's employer tends to be a boh kia si (recklessly fearless) kaypoh (busybody) with a nose for trouble (gao chui soo) and fake organic food.

The first instalment saw Aunty Lee investigate two missing persons' cases, after one of them fails to turn up for a food and wine tasting do at her establishment. The other is a sister of a family friend, so it becomes personal when the body is found.

In Aunty Lee's Deadly Specials, the shoe's on the other foot as she becomes a suspect in the deaths of two people, apparently due to her ayam buah keluak. Buah keluak, the seeds from the kepayang tree, naturally contain cyanide and have to be treated before consumption. To repair her reputation, she sniffs around and uncovers a potential scandal involving the illegal trade in human organs.

Anyone who's had to deal with nosy aunties will be familiar with Rosie Lee — and the rambling narrative that sort of mirrors how her mind works. When it's not what the other characters are thinking, it's about what Rosie is thinking — and there's a lot.

From what's right and wrong about Singapore and its society (a reference to a Singapore mega church drew a guffaw) to how timing is important when eating a freshly-made curry puff (hers, preferably) — and picking a spouse. Plus, of course, some occasional Peranakan food porn that will make outstation Peranakan homesick.

I'm sure there are better ways to draw out the suspense before the gloved hand drops the pistol butt, so to speak.

Still, once all that is out of the way, the novels are quite enjoyable, especially the interactions between Aunty Lee and Nina — better than Holmes-Watson. But I think these tend to overshadow members of the supporting cast, more of whom we'll probably get to see in future instalments.

Rosie's circumstances also lend another dimension to the stories. She married into money, but isn't ostentatious about it like some other tai tais (ladies of leisure).

Too bad this does not placate her stepson's wife, who feels Rosie's fairly successful culinary enterprise-slash-hobby is whittling down her husband's inheritance (also hers) and has repeatedly attempted to force Rosie to retire and close shop.

And for all her wit, wiles and homely wisdom, deep down she's an old widow who turned to cooking, catering for parties and sleuthing to distract herself from thoughts about mortality and her man.

But does she have to put her late husband's portrait everywhere — and talk to it? That's kind of creepy.

A recognisable and relatable local heroine, plus (so far) plausible scenarios and no auta (far-fetched/unbelievable) situations or action scenes makes Aunty Lee's "delights" piquant palatable fare you can sink your teeth into — and maybe ask for seconds later.


Ovidia Yu is scheduled to appear at the 2015 Cooler Lumpur Festival at Publika, Solaris Dutamas, happening from June 12-14. Coming soon: Aunty Lee's Chilled Vengeance, probably in several months.

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Aunty Lee’s Delights

Ovidia Yu
William Morrow
264 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-222715-7

Aunty Lee’s Deadly Specials

Ovidia Yu
William Morrow
360 pages
Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-06-233832-7