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.

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Fifth Palate

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

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Book Marks: Value of Books, More Book Bans, And Blogging

Has the book become "a devalued symbol of human imagination"?

An article on the cost of "free time" in modern working life got academic and writer Fiona O'Connor thinking about how the "time is money" mindset affects writing and the value of books in general.

In the contemporary market economy, invisibly-handed, brand-allied and celebrity-underpinned, how is the great novel, short story or poetry collection to be nurtured? What is the compound interest on genius for the literary canon when sales are the only justification of value?

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So Into the River was banned and Penguin Random House New Zealand was disappointed by it.

"Into the River was chosen as the 2013 New Zealand Post Margaret Mahy Book of the Year by a respected panel of judges," it said. "The book deals with difficult issues such as bullying and racism, which are topics adolescents should be able to read about as they may well experience these issues in their own lives."

And, of course, sex. The adults supporting the ban because it's "in the public interest" that adolescents don't learn about sex and sexuality until they're 25 are deluding themselves. There are consequences in sex, regardless of how old people are when have it. Not that I'm saying "better sooner than later".

Meanwhile, a parent in Tennessee apparently confused "gynaecology with pornography" and tried to get The immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks banned, according to the author, Rebecca Skloot. Among the offending passages included a bit on how Ms Lacks discovered her cervical cancer via a self-exam.

Now, one purpose of pornography is to titillate or downright excite, and how can any description of someone discovering a cancer that way do that?

On a related note: Dav Pilkey, author of the bestselling (and most challenged) Captain Underpants series, has quietly revealed that one of his two main protagonists, Harold, grows up to marry a man.

Pilkey wrote in The Guardian:

People often ask me how I'd want to respond to those critics who would rather see my books pulled from shelves than handed to young readers. I do have an answer, and it boils down to the fact that not every book is right for every person. Some grownups are not amused by the kinds of things that make most children laugh, and so they try to stomp those things out.

I understand that people are entitled to their own opinions about books, but it should be just that: a difference of opinion. All that's required is a simple change. Instead of saying "I don't think children should read this book," just add a single word: "I don't think my children should read this book."

When it comes to books, we may not all agree on what makes for a good read – but I hope we can agree that letting children choose their own books is crucial to helping them learn to love reading.

Word.

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Writer Faisal Tehrani gets the nod to fight the Home Ministry's ban on four of his novels: Sebongkah Batu di Kuala Berang published by PTS Litera Utama Sdn Bhd; Karbala, published by Abeerden Books World; and Tiga Kali Seminggu and Ingin Jadi Nasrallah, both published by Al-Ameen Serve Holdings Sdn Bhd.

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Meet Seymour Britchky, the critic who time forgot:

...When food obsessives cite their heroes, they tend to invoke a particular canon: MFK Fisher and Ruth Reichl for their heady, evocative prose; Gael Greene for her saucy wit; R.W. Apple and Calvin Trillin for their bonhomous wanderings; Anthony Bourdain for his honed and hungry swagger; Jonathan Gold, because he is Jonathan freaking Gold. Britchky's people are in it for his acid tongue and gimlet eye—the way he etched a menu, a moment, a space, a feeling, an era in dining when not every plate was Instagram-ready, every interaction Yelp-able to the world. For him, every meal was personal, every review a master class in the art of food writing.

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A recent book of comics started out when a young man from Kuching, Sarawak got conned.

And being a young man of his time, Goh naturally wanted to blog about this interesting life-lesson. But there was a problem: Goh couldn't possibly narrate this entire incident to his blog's readers.

"It would have been too wordy and less interesting," he recalls thinking.

That is when an ingenious idea lit up in his head: draw a four-frame comic strip about it.

Years later, Once Upon a Miao: Stories from the Other Side of Malaysia, is published. It's a pretty fine book.

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Jenny "The Bloggess" Lawson has been on a roll lately. This time, on the question of whether blogging is dead:

The only thing that's dead is the possibility of making a million bucks on blogging, which honestly never existed as an attainable goal for any of us in the first place. If you're blogging to make a million dollars you should probably switch to something more lucrative, like ... I dunno ... making a sex tape.

...But here's the great thing about realizing that making a mint in blogging isn't really feasible or worthwhile ... now you're free to write whatever the shit you want to write without having to worry about brands and advertisers and alienating angry, easily-offended people who are actually really fun to alienate.

...And that's fine because every single writer writes for their own specific reason. Some of us write for a living. Some of us write for fun. Some of us write because we have no other choice because writers write always ... That is what writing is about, and blogging is just one iteration of writing. Writing never dies.

"Writing never dies." Amen.

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Pynchon-style writing gives an unknown author's book a boost, thanks to speculation that said author could be Thomas Pynchon himself. As if the catchy cover and title won't. And I suppose it's been established that e-publishing is not the magic bullet some say it is.

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.

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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

Book Marks: Nazi Goreng, Going Slow

Nazi Goreng (the English edition, Monsoon Books) by Marco Ferrarese and Psiko (Lejen Press) by Ehsan El Bakri are among the latest publications to be banned, apparently. Along with To Love Ru Darkness, news of which I'm surprised that none of the otakus on my timeline have picked up. Maybe they don't care. Maybe it's passé.

Meanwhile, the YA novel Into the River by New Zealand author Ted Dawe has been banned over what I'd define as "objectionable content". Seems it's the "first book to be banned in New Zealand for at least 22 years", according to the New Zealand Herald.

Still, it's a little bit drama to ask "Will I be burned next?"

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Why do smart publishers build bad websites? Digital Book World says "That's because the typical publisher's site is covered with dozens of images showing frontlist releases, current bestsellers, author listings and some lame ads to join a boring mailing list.

"In other words, a publisher's site feels like an inferior online store."

Of course, the article has some suggested solutions.

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Literary technologist Hugh McGuire trained himself to read books again to escape the relentless, fast-flowing stream of digital information and go slow.

"In the same way that snake venom can be used to produce curative antivenom, I wondered whether that old, slower form of information delivery — books — could act as a kind of antidote to the stress caused by the constant flow of new digital information," he writes in the Harvard Business Review. "Whether my inability to sustain my focus—at work, home, and on reading books—could be cured by finding ways to once again sustain my focus ... on a book."


Also:

• From Charlie Hebdo to Virginia Woolf, the webchat with Joyce Carol Oates, as it happened. It's a pretty long piece, and kind of insightful.
• The Vietnamese Ministry of Education asks a publisher to pull a "living skills" book that teaches kids to, among other things, walk on glass to build - or as a show of - courage. Yeah.
• "Toxic shock": Seems Ms Agatha Christie an expert on poisons, which sort of explains why many of her villains used lethal substances. I wonder if reviewers had a hard time being honest with her novels back then.
• Huzir Sulaiman has completed the film adaptation of The Garden of Evening Mists. Unfortunately, no further details were given, like whether it'll be out on DVD.

Bookstores Don't Ban Books

So Silverfish Books has stopped selling a book by a certain fugitive blogger.

Some people have been jumping up and down over the indie bookstore's "hypocrisy" and violation of it's supposed creed to uphold free speech and all that jazz.

Words or actions themselves have no power of their own. However, certain words or actions derive their power from how people react to them. And every society has certain hot buttons that should be left alone. Mess around long enough and one will hit that big red button.

When one starts an enterprise like Silverfish, some lofty goals are aspired towards. Then, the reality - a bookstore, indie or otherwise, is still a business venture, and the aim of a business is to make money and survive.

And when you do business in a country, you have to toe some lines, including the ones etched by society and government, lofty aspirations notwithstanding.

To stubbornly wave the "defender of freedom of expression" banner in the face of this will, at some point, prove foolhardy. A bookstore manager was persecuted by religious authorities for several years over her company's decision to sell a book - one she had no say over.

And if the "thugs" do come for Silverfish, will these social justice warriors get out of their basements and help it out?

That some people hold this Fugitive Blogger up as an icon of freedom of expression saddens me.

Before he went on the lam, he posted a picture of himself eating something that's not kosher to a certain demographic, on what was its sacred month. I believe it was deliberate. For reasons only he can articulate, he went and pushed that big red button.

Though what the Fugitive Blogger says and does might not be universally agreeable, Silverfish might have taken a chance on his book because, behind the crude language and sexist, misogynistic façade, this frank and articulate young fellow might have some redeeming qualities.

But it seems all he's doing is plumbing new lows - and hit Silverfish's big red button on the way down.

The bookstore would have anticipated the backlash from this move, including the noise over their "hypocrisy" and whatnot, and might have felt this was bearable than whatever the authorities have in store. Some die-hard supporters of Silverfish will probably be relieved by this.

I don't think it was a hard decision to make.

Run free, Fugitive Blogger. Go out there and push the limits of your freedom in the land of the brave. Keep spouting those uncomfortable truths (as you see them).

But tread lightly. No society I know of is free of big red buttons. May you never find the one in your new neighbourhood.

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.

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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

Crouching Café, Hidden Sar Yung

Over a year ago...

If only you could see my face as I stared down the long line of cars in front of me...

Some days, an experience at a far-flung cafe isn't worth it. Even if I wasn't paying.

But Melody just had to, had to, go. Because an acquaintance had waxed poetic over several things there, and some food bloggers gave it rave reviews.

A recent photo (August 2015) of where Amaze K Café is. Believe me,
without the red food truck and sign, you wouldn't know it's there.

Most importantly, because she'd bought the Groupon promo for both of us.

But it wasn't just the traffic.

Snuggled deep within the industrial zone in Kota Damansara, the new Amaze K Cafe became a hit. I think part of the thrill for the patrons was finding it among the factories, garages and shuttered shoplots and, after eating and lots of photographing, rushing back to regale eagerly waiting audiences about the hidden gem they "unearthed", like treasure hunters that emerged from the jungle after being lost for months.

We found it with a phone call. "Opposite the shop with the Espressolab banner," we were told. I'd passed that banner once.

When we finally arrived at the doorstep of Amaze K, I could see why we missed it the first time. It blends right in.

So what allegedy made the food at Amaze K good was the management; the owner is an acquaintance of Melody's acquaintance, whose palate was more discerning than ours. The Groupon promo, however, limited the choices we could make.

We ended up ordering two set lunches: mine was the Salmon Steak Pasta, while she inexplicably picked the chicken chop with butter sauce and fried rice.

There was nothing spectacular about the experience, even though my pasta was fine. It had some kind of sauce at the bottom of the plate, possibly from the salmon, that made me wish I had a slice of bread to wipe it all off.

Melody didn't like her dish much. I thought the fried rice and the butter sauce lacked flavour - did they skimp on the salt? But the aroma of the sauce was just right, laced with the herbal and citrusy hints of curry leaf.

Halfway through, a whiff of something baked made me look up, just in time to see a pile of what looked like cream puffs on a plate landing atop the table behind us.

"That's the sar yung," Melody piped up. "She (the acquaintance) talked about it too."

Makan kaki Melody's photo of the carb-rich, liver- and diet-nuking
"sand codgers" from over a year ago.

As I understand it, this pastry (called 沙翁 or, literally translated, "sand codgers") is sold in Hong Kong and some parts of China. These balls of deep-fried dough sprinkled with sugar outside contain lots of air in a sparse honeycomb of dough. Some say that it's similar to the Okinawan sata andagi or the Dutch oliebol.

At Amaze K, the sar yung is sold by the half-dozen, which costs RM12, and it's not on the menu - at least, not yet. We just had to try it. That became the only paid item on the bill.

My experience with churros told me that anything deep-fried and saturated in oil and sprinkled with sugar is bound to be a treat. Once you bite down and start chewing, oh g*d. It's. So. Good. The soft dough inside collapses and just melts, and when the sugar and fried crispy dough shell melds into a forming melange in your mouth...

Fatty liver? Who cares?

But by the time I was sated I'd devoured four; Melody shot me that familiar "you unrepentant glutton" look after I'd reach for the last piece that was supposed to be hers.

On the way home, my stomach (and liver, I suspect) eventually got round to protest all that extra goodness I'd downed in a cloud of carb-induced intoxication. Call it my version of jungle fever.

Fatty liver? I CARE.

Thing is, I'm still thinking of diving back into that wilderness.

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Amaze K Café

23, Jalan PJU 3/44
Sunway Damansara
47810 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

Pork-free

Mon-Sat: 9:30am-9pm

Closed on Sundays

+603-7733 7657

Facebook page

Separation Anxiety

So, an "information blitz" has begun, days (presumably) before 1 September, when many of us are supposed to separate our trash before chucking it out.

I'm all for this. For too long we've been ignoring the fact that, for the convenience of throwing everything out the door in one bag, we've been inconveniencing the folks who have to sort out the mess at wherever our garbage ends up.

And few things feel as empowering - or as hipsterish - as knowing what a difference we make by sorting out our own trash.

I just have a few questions:

• Should we wash the recyclables before throwing them out? Imagine all the cleaning that has to be done for those who live out of styrofoam packs, plus the scrubbing down of plastic bags for your kopi C peng, pickled green chillies and whatnot.
• And have any of you tried washing a bottle used for storing Scott's Emulsion? Your kitchen will smell like fish, and that's putting it mildly. I'm speaking from experience.
• What happens to oil-soaked or sambal-stained cardboard pizza boxes and wrapping paper? Can these still be recycled after waiting for two weeks in the trash before pickup? Can't imagine what would've had a go at the cardboard before the sanitation staff after all that time.
• What about items with mixed components, like glass bottles for supplements? The caps are plastic - should these be removed and disposed of separately? Same goes for milk and fruit juice cartons.
• Leather products: shoes, wallets, belts, Moleskine covers ... where do these go? And what about stone, bricks and heavy ceramics such as old porcelain thrones?
• Shredded CD-ROMs, DVDs, Blu-Rays, credit cards, ATM cards, SIM cards ... how? Do we lump these together with plastics or...?
• Ah, yes ... used tissues. As someone with allergic rhinitis, on some days I churn out a lot of this regularly. My educated guess would put this under "Others", a.k.a. (Possibly) Biohazardous Waste, perhaps? But I guess they could be recyclable if the compunds used to treat the paper are harsh enough...

Also, there had better be a more robust collection and recycling mechanism for old electronics: smartphones, old appliances, discarded computer peripherals and components and so on coming soon. We should also be thinking of wiping that old hard drive, flash disk or SD card before disposal...

...alright, most of the questions above have been answered by this online presentation (which I learnt about before I could post this) by the Ministry of Urban Wellbeing, Housing and Local Government (whose minister is not among Malaysia's favourite people at the moment, but that doesn't make waste separation a bad idea).

I just had to get it out of my system.

Book Marks: A Little Shorter And Less Frequently

Yes, it's been a while since I've does lists like this, but I wanted to be even more selective of what to highlight. Plus, I've been busy sorting out my life, with little progress. Right now, I might be dealing with insomnia.

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GB Gerakbudaya has just announced the release of a collection of essays on what is it like to be young and Malay in Malaysia: "Edited by Ooi Kee Beng and Wan Hamidi Hamid, the collection features nine young writers — Haris Zuan, Zairil Khir Johari, Dyana Sofya Mohd Daud, Altaf Deviyati, Izmil Amri, Syukri Shairi, Raja Ahmad Iskandar, Edry Faizal Eddy Yusof and Wan Hamidi himself — who share their experiences about growing up in Malaysia."

---

Borders bookstore manager Nik Raina Nik Aziz's legal nightmare is finally over as the Federal Court dismisses JAWI's latest prosecution bid against her.

This case should never have stretched on for this long. Employees of a bookstore chain cannot be held solely responsible for whatever the company sells, and Nik Raina did nothing more than to earn a living. Can a Muslim employee be charged for selling beer at a 7-Eleven?

One hopes that this is truly the end of this case.

---

Some people aren't happy with Kate Breslin's romance novel For Such a Time. "Re-centring the story of the prisoners of Theresienstadt on a tale of Christian conversion and the salvation and redemption of a Nazi commandant who committed genocide reframes and erases history," says one critic, "and forgives the horror of the execution of more than 17 million people in order to advance a larger religious perspective."

Anne Rice has hit out at "internet lynch mobs" attacking controversial books, and this book in particular. After tweeting about this, someone helpfully provided this bit of news where Rice was alleged to have unleashed her followers' wrath on a critic of her own work.

That aside, I'm not certain that romance novels about Jewish concentration camp prisoners and Nazi officers can ever "forgive" the Nazi horrors rubbed into our faces every time they face the threat of being forgotten by whiny social justice types - what are history books for, anyway?

---

After her latest book, Furiously Happy, was chosen as a top book US librarians would like to share with readers, Jennifer Lawson, a.k.a. The Bloggess penned a love letter to libraries (especially the librarians). It's a poignant piece, especially with Lawson's background:

When I was little my favorite places were libraries. You weren’t expected to speak, which was heaven for a shy girl with an anxiety disorder. Thousands of small secret stories were hidden in plain sight all around you, just waiting to be held in your hands and discovered. As a small girl in rural Texas, I knew that the best chance I had of seeing worlds that would never be open to me, and meeting fantastic people I’d never be bold enough to speak to was through books. I was able to see places that exist (or that had existed, and or that would never exist) through the words of the storytellers whose worlds had been bound up and shared and protected through generations of docent-guardians who called themselves “librarians”.

...sometimes you’d get lucky and there would be a special librarian there. Of course, all librarians were special when you were little. They were the guards and they were larger than life. They knew the secret codex of books. They were good witches and wizards who kept small keys around their necks, keys to special, sacred artifacts you had to know the secret password to see."

---

A case of a curious banning of a book in Florida unfolds as Mark Haddon's novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time was pulled from a school's reading list over swear words.

A local daily, according to The Guardian, even "tallied up the appearances of swear words in the novel: 'the f-word is written 28 times, the s-word 18 times, and the c-word makes one appearance – in Britain that word is less charged than it is in the US,' reported the [Tallahassee Democrat]. 'A few characters also express atheistic beliefs, taking God’s name in vain on nine occasions.'"

Far more F-words and S-words can be found on the Internet. And if one goes through hours of TV programming in the States one might find lots of people "taking G*d's name in vain" on more than nine occasions.

---

Britain’s best joke at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival features Germany and a mobile phone. At The Daily Beast, Tom Sykes disagrees.

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

What's Wrong With The First Person?

Of all the events during a "festival of ideas" held recently in KL, the only sour note was a panel that talked about, among other things, how to be a better foodie and food reviewer.

I agree that "reviewers" and "food bloggers" who expect to be comped and resort to blackmail when shown the door are the spawn of Satan, and food reviews should be more than just pictures and flowery descriptions - or "wham-bam"-type commentary with multisyllabic adjectives.

But I felt slighted when the panellists described some reviewing methods that sound similar to mine, e.g., no "I", "me", "mine" in the text. At least I try to be entertaining...

And what's wrong with the sharp-edged jottings of certain British reviewers like Jay Rayner? I enjoy Rayner's stuff. As I do Pete Wells's, especially his interrogative piece on Guy's American Kitchen & Bar in Times Square.

William Cheng, a professor at Dartmouth College, has also made the case for more first-person voices in writing - in his case, for his students - in a Slate article:

The goal, of course, isn’t to assure students that it’s all about them—that is, to condone attitudes of entitlement and egotism. The point is for students to recognize that they must listen inward, harnessing a voice from deep down, in order to reach outward and contribute to society at large. Yes, I realize such advice runs the risk of sounding clichéd and sentimental: believe in yourself, the truth lies within, speak from your heart. But I’d rather see students grapple with sentiment than to have them smudge it out altogether.

Because you know what else is a cliché? The notion that good writing stands on its own merits, or that good ideas speak for themselves, or that a good paper can practically write itself. When we empower students to write with I, what we convey is: Stand up for yourself and take responsibility for what you say. Once you’ve found a voice, start thinking of all the people whose voices continue to go unheard. Behind glowing phones and laptop screens, students need to look up and speak out, to collide and connect with one another through exercises in self-expression and self-evaluation.

I posted a short version of this rant on Facebook. One respondent, a journalist with some reputation, says that use of "the first person voice sounds overindulgent but what's for me does not need to be for others. Writers should do whatever makes them happy and bear with whatever the consequence is and whatever viewers and so called experts think."

Yes, we're Asians and yes, we're also Malaysians and maybe, we don't review to criticise. Thing is, we have yet to master the fine art of giving and receiving criticism, from what I've seen on social media. We need to learn how to take it on the chin.

A big part of why we aren't growing up as people of letters is because we're too mindful of what others think, so much so that we can't trust our own opinions and the sum of our knowledge. News of fellow Malaysians being derided or punished for having unpopular opinions don't help.

I don't want to be pressured into being a "better" foodie, food reviewer or writer. Nobody should. And I want to write in a way that's most comfortable for me, for my voice. If one becomes good in the process of writing, it will show.

Ultimately, the audience decides what's good.

Tell you what: I'll do my thing and I-me-mine my way through my own foodie journey. And if I want to, every third word in my future reviews will be drawn from a list that includes gems such as "unctuous", "succulent", "yummy", "aromatic" and "earthy".

Because I can.

Because I want to.

And because, as Professor Cheng said, there's "no voice without I."

For The Love Of It

When I review restaurants, the last thing I expect is to get comped. I only eat what I pay for, so there's a risk that any freebie will go to waste.

But one day, on another visit to this one place, I got a freebie in a paper bag with a note scrawled on it. They'd kept asking me whether I wanted dessert and decided on their own that I did, even when I did not.

I don't expect things like this, either. Running a restaurant, or writing and publishing a book ... it's hard, thankless. With GST, it's even harder - and the folks at this establishment are not passing the buck to their customers - yet.

And there are so, so many restaurants out there, as there are books. So when you spot a good thing, you want to support who made it, and you want it to be there on certain days.

But I'm only one person, one stomach. I'm not the bottomless pit I used to be over a decade ago. Nor do reviews last long enough to be of help these days.

And some of my favourite places have closed down or changed character. So I'm thankful for the ones that are left, whose owners and staff are still going strong and still doing their thing.

I'll be keeping this bag for a while. The contents didn't go to waste and, though empty, the bag will continue to sustain me. As long as there are people out there, banging out the good stuff for our enjoyment and sustenance, I will never run out of words.

The Other Hero(ine)

A certain former prime minister spoke at some "festival of ideas" at Publika one weekend.

But I could barely keep it in when I saw this other person on the first day of the festival. Think I almost squealed.

Nik Raina Nik Abdul Aziz told me she's been manning the Borders stall since the first festival and I couldn't believe it. And I'd been following the case since it broke.

I find her more relatable. Both of us work with books and, I think, feel confident that the right to legally earn our livelihoods is protected by the state.

At least, I think we used to.

To put it simply, Nik Raina was persecuted for selling a book that JAWI, the Federal Territories religious affairs department, has deemed "bad". However, it has had its case against her thrown out several times, due largely to how it was handled.

In spite of this, JAWI is going to appeal this case to the Federal Court, and there's a possibility it might be reopened.

Many are baffled by the dogged pursuit of the Borders bookstore manager by the religious affairs department. Didn't the Syariah High Court already drop her case?

Her plight casts a pall over every Malaysian; no longer can we view the authorities as protective parental figures. We are frightened to speak up or do something - anything. We are cowed into meekness, forced to blindly obey. To follow our hearts or believe what our gut says is right can be considered treasonous.

This is no way to live.

Which is why Nik Raina and Borders Malaysia's decision to take on JAWI over the former's case gives us hope.


26/08/2015   So it seems Nik Raina's legal nightmare is finally over as the Federal Court dismissed JAWI's latest prosecution bid against her. Kudos to Borders Malaysia for sticking with her to the end of this case.

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.

---

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

#GTLF2014: Lost In Penang

"Are you lost?" asked Gareth Richards from the Gerakbudaya Penang bookstore. "You look a bit lost."

Oh you have no idea, sir.

I was at the 2014 George Town Literary Festival and had trouble deciding where to spend my time between programmes. After a taste of the Festival in 2013, I thought about going for the next one.

At least it gave me another excuse to balik kampung, besides for Chinese New Year.

The venue for the 2014 Festival, The Whiteaways Arcade, threw up several surprises, including an Old Town White Coffee outlet in the premises, a bazaar along the street it was located (weekends only), and a famous nasi lemak stall at a nearby food court that served some of the best examples of the dish.

Okay, so it's my first time there when Whiteaways was opened. And I rarely go to town when I'm back.

My old, largely unexplored backyard has changed so much, even before I'd begun looking into its nooks and crannies. It was the same with my being in publishing and writing, although I've only started with the latter towards the end of 2007 and been in the former for only four-plus years.

I'd felt I was still scratching the surface when it came to both, so I felt that the Festival would provide some direction. Yet I managed to give two important events a miss: "Publishing Today", where editor Bernadette Foley, Hans Kemp and publisher Tom Vater shared insights on new trends in publishing and the impact on writers and readers; and "What Publishers Want", a workshop by Foley on how to get published.

Gareth was, as usual, spot on.

---

Because I'd left my KL home in a hurry to attend this, I'd forgotten my camera and notebook. One could say I can buy more paper and pen on arrival, but I decided to be less journalistic and more of a festival-goer this time.

After a while, "covering" events starts feeling like work, and I'm not sure how I can immerse myself in the atmosphere and just let go and enjoy. I'm not even writing for print media these days.

Worse still, the torpor has seeped into what I'd call recreational writing - hence, this late, late dispatch. The gears are still gummed up today.

But the programmes during the festival last year raised some points to ponder:


Putting pen to paper
A writer I met suggests that Malaysian writers are a tad insecure about their writing and, therefore, tend to only write what they know, sticking to familiar topics. We have experts on the Japanese occupation, Japanese gardens, May 13, Independence, race relations in Malaysia, mango trees and what to do with them.

For many, however, the problem can be as simple as "I can't write" or "I have nothing worthwhile to say".

That last bit is bullshit.

For those with the urge, start writing, whatever your native language or degree of skill. Nothing happens if you don't get moving.

Pick something from daily life: a tree, a cup of coffee, an incident at school. Describe it, then add some degree of retrospective - what does it make you think about? That curiosity to go further, deeper, farther, is important. Don't worry to much about grammar, spelling, and so on. You're practising, so practise lots.

“To aspiring writers, stop looking at writer's success and comparing
yourself; it's not worth the trouble. All you have to do is start writing.”
― Gina Yap Lai Yoong

I complain about crap copy all the time, but would I like a world where everything is proper, polished and politically correct?

NO.

An ecosystem takes all sorts to be complete. Each bit of writing, good and bad, goes into a pool others will dive into and the readers are supposed to be navigating these waters, picking out what they deem is the best and ditching what they feel is the worst. That's how it's always been.

(Besides, in such a perfect world I'd have no job.)

Also: read, and read LOTS. Start from what you like or prefer to read, and take it from there. Again, be curious. Never mind if you don't understand some of it; with time and more reading, you will come to understand more - and start connecting the dots. And consult Mr Dictionary and Ms Thesaurus if you don't understand the words.

Why not start with, say, what's being sold at lit-fests?


The (im)permenance of words
It's hard to imagine a lit-fest without the participation of Fixi. In a panel discussion about Malaysian writing, Fixi chief Amir Muhammad seemed to imply that what his publishing company produces is throwaway fiction: stuff you read once before moving to something else, stuff that's almost never revisited.

Sounds like what Ursula K Le Guin said about the Amazon model of books: "written fast, sold cheap, dumped fast".

Seems a waste, considering how much work goes into making a book.

“The words get easier the moment you stop fearing them.”
― Tahereh Mafi

But it's probably a mistake to believe that words are meant to last. For many of us, even an encounter with a great book leaves an impression like the spark of a firefly - once the enchantment wears off, one is left to wander around - lost for a bit, like I was - until the next great thing comes along.

Amir was philosophical about this, as he was with the notion of "being a good author". "No matter how good we are, we all die one day," he said - not dismissive, but somewhat matter-of-fact. "So do what you like, not what you feel compelled by others to do."

In that vein, you shouldn't mind the brickbats because the trolls and those who throw them will also die one day. Time's too short not to follow your passion when it burns so much you feel it.


Changing landscapes
Like most of my generation, I tend to kvetch over "the end of an era", be it in publishing, education or blues music (you're the king, BB).

But do we really have the right to speak of the old in such vivid or endearing terms when some of us never experienced it?

Yes, the skyline isn't what it used to be when I was in school and I biked several kilometres ferrying my mother's rented VHS tapes of old TVB serials to and from the shop (gone by now, probably). But I can talk about those times because I lived them and those were the days.

“Writers are the exorcists of their own demons.”
― Mario Vargas Llosa

Then we have the freakazoids who keep reminding us of how bad the Japanese and Communist insurgents are, persistently warn us of "another May 13" and wax romantical about how things were better when our grandmas grew mangoes.

I don't think we'll see the end of this until EVERY MALAYSIAN has coughed up his or her post-British, post-Independence, post-May 13 epic. When they're not writing about husbands who are religious teachers, "perfect" or cephalopods.

Well, it won't be evolution without some painful chapters along the way.

Still, I found some interesting things under that crowded skyline, so it's not all bad.


Food writing? More like food directorying
I was a little disappointed to hear several food bloggers claiming that their readers are more into directory-style stuff rather than multilayered food pieces, meshing storytelling, history and other trivia.

US writer John Krich, who was with food bloggers CK Lam and Ken Tho on a panel discussion on food writing, looked out of place - I wonder, what was he thinking?

In what generally passes as "food blogging" these days, we get an intro to a place, what amounts to a glorified menu of what was reviewed with price tags, and a wrap-up that includes the name (in case you didn't get it), address and contact information.

"Oh, don't you do the same thing sometimes?"

Well, at least TRY not to make it LOOK SO OBVIOUS that it's a glorified tasting menu. When you're writing for someone else who wants it presented in a "boring" format, however, that's forgiveable. You have my sympathies.

“People have writer's block not because they can't write, but
because they despair of writing eloquently.”
― Anna Quindlen

Krich's book, A Fork in Asia's Road: Adventures of an Occidental Glutton (plan to review it), is a collection of articles that are anything but glorified menus and NO contact information - the kind of thing that the rest of us (like Lam and Tho) ARE NOT DOING but would want to do someday.

But it's a job that requires a lot of legwork, experience, a cast-iron stomach, and loads of curiosity - how else did he manage to pry so much out of what might otherwise be another cursory culinary stopover?

Later, perhaps hours or a day after the panel, I saw Krich at the Subways downstairs. It did cross my mind to ask him why he was eating at a Subways in the middle of Southeast Asia's street food capital? What did he think about the panel?

I thought the better of it; sometimes, you have to know when not to be curious.

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So yes, I was lost. This was not the Penang I left behind when I was a teenager. But I like it. I'm getting curious about it already.

And I managed to write this up, somehow. Been a while since I've conjured this bubble where everything I scribble sounds about right.

If only I can find a way to enter this zone at will.

Book Marks: Mystery Places, Filipiniana, and Charlie Chan Hock Chye

Sara Nović explains the challenges of being a deaf author:

In reality, the language – or linguistic modality – in which I am most fluent is written English. When I'm writing, my mind and body need not be translated for a hearing audience. I don't worry that I am unclear, that my lips and tongue will revert to their unpractised ways under pressure, or that I'm speaking at the wrong volume for the background noise I cannot gauge. When I'm reading a book, I do not have to guess in the way that I do when lipreading – paper never covers its mouth or turns its head.

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Why do novelists disguise the actual settings of their works?

There is no one reason why an author should fictionalise a place. John Galt, Scott's contemporary, invented places called Oldtown and Dalmailing, Guttershiels and Gudetown, because he regarded his novels as "theoretical histories of society". The places were exemplary, not individuated. They also had a certain onomatopoeia that Dickens would take much further (in his character names as well as place names). It also circumvented the kind of green-ink letters authors still receive, pointing out, say, there are no buses from Heriot to Galashiels after 10.30pm, or that the bookshop on Buccleuch Street closed four years before the action of the novel. Places that aren't anywhere can be everywhere.

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When Philippine literature struggles to be visible, even in the Philippines:

If you're a believer in supporting local authors, entering a Filipino bookstore can be a dispiriting experience. Book store chains often have piles of Dan Browns and Stephenie Meyers forming book towers at the entrance even as they shunt local authors aside in a single shelf under "Filipiniana." That one shelf is often relegated to the back, where history and sociology textbooks haphazardly mix with horror books and children's books because who cares, right?

"Filipiniana"? Don't feel so alone now, do we?

Recommendations included, though we might have to go online for those.

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Singapore's National Arts Council revokes a S$8,000 grant for Sonny Liew's graphic novel, The Art of Charlie Chan Hock Chye, on eve of its launch in Singapore, over "sensitive content" in it, that "potentially 'undermines the authority or legitimacy' of the government.

So far, the only thing the retraction of the grant seemed to undermine was the authority of the NAC. Public interest in Liew's work emptied many stores of the book, prompting a second print run.


Also:

• Worried that literature has no future? "Be chill. Don't fret," teen author Lily Dodd tells Ron Charles.
• Why cursive mattered, once upon a time.
• How Elizabethan book pirates changed publishing.
• Here's the much-Tweeted story of how Fixi, Lejen Press and company are offering a refuge from the stifling atmosphere of rising social conservatism at home.
• Has the golden era of Malaysian genre fiction arrived? Zen Cho, Kris Williamson and ... "RodieR"(?) share their thoughts.

Oh, and read this "terrifyingly accurate indictment of the journalistic world" by Tom Cox, formerly of The Guardian. Some of you might be able to relate to this.