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Tuesday 9 February 2010

Changes... and Bad Drama

Change. It's in my pocket, my drawers, in cash registers, safe deposit boxes, and election campaign promises. Most of all, it's in the air. It's happened in my life, and now, it'll happen to this space.

I have a dream. Something I hope will be a life-long pursuit.

In shedding an old image, some things will have to go. There'll be a clean-up - many entries will be gone, but there will also be additions, transplants from a more private space. Some existing entries will be updated, changed to reflect the person who owns this place now, rather than who wrote it then. Much of the layout will remain - for now.

And perhaps, finally, the real name behind this space will see the light of day.

Tuesday 2 February 2010

Readings' Fifth

I've been missing a few Readings sessions due to personal problems, but things got a little better for me to attend the latest one, and a milestone of a session at that. It's Readings' fifth anniversary.

Three cakes were brought for the occasion, including two evidently home-made Red Velvets with lovely white butter-cream.

But it was one session where I was never more ill-prepared. I left home late. I forgot my camera's tripod. I didn't make enough room in the camera's 8GB SDHC card for footage. I was afraid of not having enough batteries. And there wasn't a single thing of suitable height for my camera to stand on.

Readings' fifth had an impressive line-up with a mix of two or more of the following: poets, authors, performers and rebels. Almost everyone spent their allotted 15 minutes, some stretching into 16 or 17, including commentaries. Hearing authors read their own works is a delight, but not as much as when they talk about themselves and their work, as evidenced by Shamini Flint's monologue.

The loud and forthright Elaine Foster said she wouldn't perform, but there was still a bit of drama in her recital of a poem where "the revolution will not be brought to you by Celcom, DiGi and Maxis, nor is it Malaysia Truly Asia," and so on. She would find good company with Peter Hassan Brown, whose voice also carries a long way.

Jo Kukathas read a sombre tale of a loner who lives in a dark room and is fond of his dogs. Readings' founder Bernice Chauly gives us a hint of her roots as she reads from what will be her work of "faction".

From the Little Red Dot comes O Thiam Chin, whose collection of short stories (Never Been Better) is available for sale here. He read a passage from that book (naturally), copies of which were on sale at the venue (ditto). Too bad they weren't offering discounts.

When Kam Raslan reads, it's almost certain that he'll entertain. Especially with a sneak peek at the continuing (mis)adventures of the irrepressible MCKK old boy, Dato' Hamid. Being ambushed by fragrance salesladies is as frightening as he tells it, and hilarious too - as long as it happens to other people.

The dreadlocked and tattooed rebel poet Rahmat Harun was a sight to behold as he greets the audience, "Hi, bro!", waxes lyrical of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon in two languages (with some help from Hishamuddin Rais), and shows us how to fly a kite.

The fifth anniversary event ended with a couple of announcements: NST's Umapagan Ampikaipakan trumpeted (sort of) a book club at BFM89.9, and Bernice's call for help with some charity - I think.

There has also been talk of compiling the prose that has been read on all five years of Readings and CeritaKu (a sister event of Readings at No Black Tie) into a series of books, and a shout-out for contributions has been made. The deadline is 31 March.

Here's to five more years of Readings.

Saturday 23 January 2010

Small-Town Roast Duck, Big On Heart

I think this encounter happened during a Christmas weekend getaway in Ipoh last year. After hearing Alex brag about her hometown's cuisine for ages, I finally took the leap to see what the fuss was all about.

And what a fuss it was.

Almost everything written in the piece happened: the food, the hospitality, and generosity of the owner. The duck was divine.



Divine roast duck in Canning Garden, Ipoh
by Alexandra and KW Wong

first published in The Malaysian Insider, 23 January 2010


"Is it my imagination, or is the Ipoh food scene ostensibly divided into two camps?" KW asks thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" I furrow my eyebrows distractedly, trying to search for an empty lot.

"For dim sum, you have Foh San vs Ming Court," he begins.

"Ming Court!" I pipe up.

"For bean sprouts chicken, there's Loe Wong Wong vs Cowan Street bean …" he continues.

"And now Restaurant Hong Kong vs Restaurant Hong Kong Oil? Amazingly, not only do they sell the same thing, their shop names are only different by one word! Which is better, in your opinion?"

"Parking!" I yelp, ramming my Charade aggressively into an empty lot. Parking can be a devil in Canning Garden, this deceptively laidback-looking enclave in Ipoh shaded by ancient giant trees. It is also home to some of the best grub around, including chee cheong fun, Siamese laksa, nasi lemak... but that's a story for another day.

I opt for political correctness. "I've tried both and they are nice. But for some reason, I've always found myself gravitating back to Madam Heng's. The personalised intimacy keeps me coming back like a magnet."

And then, there's the supremely-addictive duck, of course. Which is why, on this food tour, I'm whisking duck-mad KW to my "favouritest" place in Ipoh for a gamey poultry fix.

"That's the madam of the manor, bubbly, personable and generous almost to a fault," I whisper, pointing to a middle-aged lady dressed in a flowy batik caftan, with a soft wavy updo and perpetually Manga-esque wide eyes.

"Miss Wong! Lei hoe moe (how are you?)? So long never see, kam leng chor keh (become so pretty already)?" Uh huh. That's Madam Heng, all right: a bundle of smiles, conviviality and outrageous flattery.

I ask for the usual — duck leg with a side order of curry chicken and acar. "Make sure you impress," I say with a wink.

Not that there's any doubt she will.

Fans rave about its signature crispy skin duck, the result of a six-hour labour of love. First, more than ten herbs are rubbed inside the bird to remove excessive gaminess, while retaining the trademark robustness that duck lovers go ape over.

Another eight herbs are slathered over the skin for flavour enhancement. Then, the bird is allowed to dry naturally for a few hours before it is roasted in a charcoal-powered Apollo stove for 40 minutes and finally fanned to cool.

Just before it is delivered to your table, the duck is drizzled with lashings of boiling oil to create that paper-thin, crackling-crispy skin that melts on your tongue.

Madam Heng once told me they use "jeli-weli" (Cherry Valley, actually -BP) duck, a specially bred duck of English origin, chosen by virtue of its leaner meat. In my first visit here, she actually lifted the glistening reddish-brown skin to prove her point. Look ma, no fat. (She didn't say that, I did.)

I'll let KW describe the results: "Simply one of the best roast ducks I've ever had, while making allowances for ducks consumed in the past and the future. The sweet plum sauce is nice but not necessary. Skill, technique, recipe and love went into this creation, and it clamped my mouth shut for most of the meal."

There is a bit of to-and-fro at the cash register when we're done. By our reckoning, the meal is worth every hard-earned sen: a plate of dry curry, acar, a gargantuan duck leg, two bowls of rice, three iced herbal teas, plus half a dozen mandarin oranges on the house.

What comes back as change for RM50 is... let's just say a KL-ite would think it's a steal.

We think so, too — us stealing from Madam Heng, if we leave it there.

"Go on, take it," Madam Heng implores.

"No, no," I protest. "It's way too much change. If you keep insisting I'll drop it and run off."

"Please don't fight with me! I'm old and I can't catch up with you."

What the hell can any decent upstanding person say to a water-tight argument like that?

After I thank her reluctantly, KW and I lumber out of the shop.

"Sai lei (fantastic) these small towners," he sums it up.

"Yes, I observed, the yan ching mei (interpersonal factor) is very strong," I add with a sigh that is half a complaint and half an affectionate observation.

Revisiting mom and pop shops like Restaurant Hong Kong reminds me why I'd rather review small-time entrepreneurs than big-boy chains.

Because.

Beyond the paper-thin crispy-as-Peking-duck skin...

Beyond the lean yet luscious meat, infused with heady, aromatic flavours...

Beyond the leisurely and cosy level of service...

...they remember – and appreciate you.

For life.



Restoran Hong Kong
60 Jalan Lee Kwee Foh
Canning Garden
Ipoh, Perak

CLOSED FOR GOOD