Of Humble Ingredients and A Great Deal of Flavour

Sego pecel, nasi pecel, or nasi jenganan is a rice dish commonly consumed by the people of Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia. This dish serves as nutritious fuel for many in the Malay Archipelago and can be found at eating establishments ranging from streetside pushcart stands to restaurants.

The word “pecel” roughly translates to “the act of squeezing water out of something” in Javanese, but is now commonly known to refer to a Javanese salad made with peanut sauce and vegetables.

Though its name and accompanying dishes differ depending on one’s geographic location and/or upbringing, the signature peanut sauce serves as the common unifier amid its many aliases and variants.

The use of kencur (Kaempferia galanga) lends a distinct and fragrant aroma to the dish’s signature peanut sauce, while a subtle tartness courtesy of tamarind and/or calamansi lime juice cuts through the richness of the fried peanuts and palm sugar. More layers of flavour from oil-blanched chillies, garlic, and shallots completes the sauce’s balanced trinity of sweet, sour, and spicy.

A medley of boiled vegetables such as – but not limited to – pucuk ubi/daun ubi (tapioca shoot leaves), papaya leaves, kangkong (water spinach), cabbage, carrots, snake or French beans, and bean sprouts is often dressed liberally in the aforementioned sauce. The resulting mixture is the antithesis of anything and everything deemed “Instagram-able”, but serves as the epitome of unpretentious comfort food made with simple and readily-available ingredients.

Last, but most certainly not least, the highly recommended addition of tempeh, tofu, gorengan (fritters), and/or keropok (crackers) adds texture with each mouthful, which rounds off the dish and entire eating experience.

Leftover Makeover

This was inspired by a Thai-Chinese hybrid fried rice dish. Made with ingredients and leftovers from the refrigerator and pantry, I readily and proudly exclaim that it is neither original nor “authentic”.

Leftovers present a challenge that I find myself always accepting; probably due to the natural human desire of consuming food for pleasure, coupled with a cook’s mentality of wanting to breathe a new lease of life into pieces of raw or cooked meats, scraps of vegetables, or whatever remnants that lurk in a nondescript reusable plastic container at the back of the refrigerator that may have once held the rank of “main dish” at the dining table from a previous mealtime.

The black olives used were from a can (the ubiquitous “western”/Mediterranean variety, as opposed to the Thai-Chinese black/salted olives which most recipes call for); the chilli flakes were from a small sachet courtesy of a not-so-recent pizza delivery order; cashews were from a half-consumed resealable bag; and the garnish of once-wilted coriander leaves from the depths of the refrigerator’s vegetable drawer were refreshed in ice cold water while everything else was being prepared. Rice, eggs, shallots, and dried shrimp are established staple ingredients in the household, so it was just a matter of putting things together and creating something out of seemingly nothing.

Necessity is the mother of invention, and I can probably thank my mother and her mother for thinking about food and leftovers that way as they survived having to “stretch” or fully utilise whatever was available or literally risked going hungry. For example; eggs – a luxury back then – were made into an omelette (two eggs had to feed up to 8 mouths). The said eggs were whipped till frothy while the oil in the wok came to temperature on the stovetop nearby. The beaten eggs would sizzle, puff up, and expand rapidly as soon as it came into contact with the scorching hot oil, and the satisfying aroma would fill the home; a sneak preview of something special and delicious await its inhabitants. Once glistening and golden brown, the omelette would then be equally divided among whoever was at the dining table (my mother, her siblings, and her parents), accompanied with a portion of steamed white rice and dashes of kicap lemak manis or colloquially known as kicap (Malay-style sweet soya sauce, a less thick version of its Indonesian counterpart).

This goes to show that you don’t necessarily need expensive ingredients to make good food. The challenge of making a dish or meal based on what is already available is a great way to learn, expand and evolve one’s culinary repertoire. Apart from that, the emotions evoked and subsequent memories that arise from the whole process (prepping, cooking, and eating) will remain permanently etched in one’s heart and mind forever.

Here’s to humble ingredients, good food, and good memories.

Comfort Food

For some, it’s burgers. Others, a piping hot bowl of chicken soup. For myself, it has to be urap; a humble dish made from staple ingredients grown and found in the Malay Archipelago.

As with certain dishes, there are subtle differences in terms of what ingredients are used, but the core of it remains the same; a vegetable salad packed with a whole lot of flavour. A key component of the dish is kencur (Kaempferia galanga), and its omission could be considered by traditionalists as sacrilegious. I find that its aroma – which, like coriander/cilantro, is polarising – produces a rush of euphoria, likely to be triggered by the release of endorphins. The subsequent act of consuming urap does nothing but multiply the aforementioned feeling of sheer joy and bliss.

The flavours and textures from this humble dish emits a comforting sense of familiarity, akin to an affectionate embrace and accompanying assurance that everything is going to be all right. A serving of steamed jasmine rice alongside the Javanese/Indonesian staples of fried tofu and tempeh, rounds off the whole dining experience. Truly memorable, truly comforting.

Unite, Not Divide

Even before this year’s Ramadan managed to make through its first week, my phone and social media feeds have been (and continue to be) inundated with photos, actions, reactions, and everything else in-between regarding a certain “list”. Allow me to share my thoughts and hopefully bring some sense in a seemingly senseless world.

What This Is About

A collaborative article by The Halal Food Blog and Halal Food Hunt stemmed from a moral-religious obligation to earnestly admonish their target audiences; primarily focusing on food stalls in the annual Geylang Serai Bazaar. It features a list of stalls which have been halal-certified by Singapore’s lone Islamic authority, MUIS, as well as stalls owned by Muslims.

Another sub-list – which has since been deleted – features stalls which “are not Muslim-Owned and not Halal-Certified or meet halal risks as described”.

Despite a number of the latter’s owners and staff taking additional steps and measures to ensure – to the best of their knowledge, ability, and legal means – that they source and work with ingredients which have been halal-certified (a highly commendable and selfless move in itself), the denouncement of the nature of their business – courtesy of what can be described as a self-styled questionnaire – came as an unwelcome surprise.

While the main intention of the article was definitely not to name-and-shame, a certain degree of damage had already been done thanks to screenshots of the now-deleted sub-list spreading like wildfire via mobile messaging apps and social media.

Word On The Street

A close source (a veteran food vendor who literally grew up in and around bazaars, and also happens to be a decades-long Geylang Serai Bazaar stalwart) at ground zero has noticed food vendors who were featured on the sub-list – which include a mix of both veteran loyalists and first-time aspirational millennials – mulling over whether participating in this year’s Bazaar was a good business decision to begin with.

The cost of setting up a business in Singapore is already physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially exhausting enough; and word of potentially damaging information would only add more woes.

Despite the lengthy and detailed explanations, clarifications, and justifications, the article has still come across with having a somewhat divisive, holier-than-thou, authoritative, and haughty demeanour; more so as the website and article is accessible by many, and helmed by a collective of young, tech-savvy, and highly enthusiastic individuals, but void of any officiating position.

Why It Matters (Or Not)

While the bulk of businesses and activities within the area of Geylang Serai cater towards the Malay and Muslim demographic – which will inevitably result in human traffic consisting largely of Malays and Muslims (not unlike how Chinatowns around the world are a Chinese enclave) – its is important to note that Geylang Serai has neither been a halal- nor Muslim-exclusive area.

The Geylang Serai Bazaar (colloquially known as “Bazaar Ramadan” due to it’s tradition of being prominent in the area exclusively during the month of Ramadan) has and continues to serve as the locus of anything and everything Malay- and Muslim-related (food, fashion, etc.) during the said period, playing a supportive role to existing brick-and-mortar stores.

On a related note, seeing how some Muslim businesses have helped themselves with a slice of the Chinese New Year Bazaar’s pie earlier this year, who or what is to stop non-Muslims from setting foot in the Geylang Serai Bazaar? Imagine the ruckus that would ensue if those businesses were to be publicly categorised and labelled “non-Chinese-Owned”…

Being On The Right Side Of Things

As a whole; should vendors at the Geylang Serai Bazaar apply for halal certification? Maybe; because of the reasons listed above about the area being a hub for Malays and Muslims, in addition to the increasing population of affluent Muslims.

Are they obliged to do so? Not at all; because of the reasons listed above about Geylang Serai being neither halal- nor Muslim-exclusive.

If the Bazaar vendors decide to go ahead with the idea of moving towards a halal certification; then, good. If not; no big deal, because they cannot and should not be forced to do so.

Despite that, regardless of the location or the demographic served, claiming to be something which you are not (i.e. callously self-proclaiming your food as halal without proper and legal validity – which, worryingly, has and continues to happen) would definitely put you in a bad predicament in the eyes of both the masses as well as the law.

Conclusion

To sum it all up; the Geylang Serai Bazaar is, first and foremost, a Singaporean-Malay and -Muslim tradition. At the time of this post’s publication, the area has not been gazetted as being halal- or Muslim-exclusive.

While the list is much welcomed by a segment of the population, it has indirectly triggered an unnecessary, unneeded, and divisive sentiment between Muslims and non-Muslims. While some may see that the act of thoughtfully advising fellow Muslims about what is right and/or wrong as a moral and religious obligation, others may consider it to be nothing more than a self-satisfying halal/haram (permissible/not permissible under Islamic law) witch hunt or even a form of online vigilantism.

A simple reminder to one and all about their constant obligation to exercise discretion in seeking and frequenting halal food stalls around the literal maze of sights, smells, and sounds of the Bazaar (or anywhere else, for that matter) would have sufficed.

The few street and/or night markets (known locally as pasar malams) such as the Geylang Serai Bazaar belongs to all Singaporeans. Looking at the bigger picture, this whole issue only proves to show how distant we really are in attaining the multi-racial and egalitarian utopia that we often hear other nations praise us for being. Let’s not allow our beliefs to divide us, because the last time such divisive mentalities were allowed to prevail, it certainly did not do anybody any good.

I shall end this post with a reminder to myself as well as all who are fortunate enough with the means and reach to do so: It is imperative – especially in this day and age – to choose to unite, not divide.

Brick-and-Mortar Businesses Versus Home Cooks: If You Can’t Beat Them, Take Them Under Your Wing Instead

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Some small/independent owners of brick-and-mortar food and beverage (F&B) establishments are crying foul over the lack of enforcement, licensing, and presumably less-financially-straining rise to success gained by home cooks. One distinctly upset business owner recently aired her grievances in the local papers, and a number of responses soon followed.

Of Finger-Pointing and Demands For Enforcement

During one of our many food-centred discussions during dinner (such gluttons we are), I recall mentioning to my mother: All it takes is for one letter or a status update on social media calling for tighter sanctions and/or enforcing stricter regulations on home-operated businesses, and an unnecessary spotlight will be cast on seemingly innocent individuals who simply wish to pursue their passion and/or earn a little extra side income by means of selling their food-based products.

Lo and behold; that very letter was penned not too long ago, and a number of responses soon followed (here and here). Not long after, a dedicated newspaper article aired business owners’ grievances and gripes about the aforementioned issue. Seeing how small and connected Singapore is, it will only be a matter of time before more back-and-forth debates arise.

While I do agree that a certain amount of enforcement and regulations should exist, almost none should be meted out with potential levels of tyranny which may affect – among various other collaterals – the livelihood of an individual and/or the existence of a business. With the exception of a few errant individuals/households (black sheep do exist in every possibly-imagined segment of activity), I believe that most home cooks are not breaching any rules as stated in the HDB’s current Home Based Small Scale Business Scheme; albeit (the aforementioned guidelines) being somewhat vague and/or ambiguous.

As someone who has worked in and around a number of food and beverage businesses, it goes without saying that hurdles are aplenty when it comes to setting up a business; with the most common ones in Singapore being that of manpower, not to mention the ever-present exorbitant overhead and operational costs. However; the disease that is finger-pointing, and calling for stronger enforcement and/or penalties only successfully portrays one’s bitter and entitled mentality, in addition to an autocratic-like demeanour. Additionally, even if your “rivals” were to be wiped off the grid, it would not guarantee your business a surge in patrons and/or profits – be it in the short or long term.

Learning To Work Together, Not Against Each Other

Instead of dedicating your time and already-strapped resources to put down others whom you conveniently label as your “rivals”, why not find out ways in which you can co-exist by engaging their services and tapping on their adequate experience and already-present skill sets? Why not offer them a part-time or temporary position at your premises (think the likes of festive season and special menus) instead of attempting to wipe them off altogether? Providing home cooks with a proper platform to showcase their products; and, for the brick-and-mortar business, the possibility of gaining a new group of patrons – that spells nothing less than a win-win in my book.

With the independently-owned branch of the local food and beverage industry (and the country as a whole) being already that small, petulant bickering and the aforementioned finger-pointing epidemic will do very little to solve and/or alleviate any existing issues or problems. Setting up – and subsequently running – a business isn’t a walk in the park; but instead of worrying about things beyond your control, why not look at and think about the things you can change and potentially take advantage of?

There’s some food for thought for you – pun absolutely intended.