sambal belacan – Straits Heritage Foods

I might only have one match…

Posted on November 9, 2015November 20, 2015 by joycelynlee

Have you ever had to think about what to do with the last RM5 in your wallet? Do you eat? Or do you put petrol in the tank so you can get to work? Which do you choose?

I chose to get myself to work. It was quite a while ago, but I remember the feeling. The anger, the bitterness that I am unable to take care of my family as I feel they should be taken care of and the hopelessness that sets in when I decide to put petrol because if I don’t get to work, I don’t earn money.

That feeling that I hugged close to me, that bitterness I felt when I looked around at my former schoolmates, my extended relatives, my colleagues, that feeling of being hard done by, that anger at the injustice of it all, drove me to succeed in my chosen fields. That anger, it took me a long time to get over it. Or so I thought.

Did anyone know how I really felt? I doubt it. I had pride. There was no way in hell that I was going to let anyone know my real situation.

I used to make jokes about being part of the urban poor. Nobody knew I was telling the truth. Nobody knew how much pride and anger drove me then.

I have not blogged, or written up a recipe in months. Friends thought I had been distracted by my “new” causes – kickstarting the Guerrilla Gardeners of KL (GGKL), joining Feeding the Needy (FTN), starting up #projecttikar… so distracted that I had lost focus on my little enterprise, the Straits Heritage Foods company.

The truth was, I had – and I hadn’t. I realised that the setting up of the company was a cumulation of everything that I had experienced over the last few decades. That what I wanted to do was not just take care of my family, but to give a chance to everyone I came across who felt the way I had, that that innate sense of justice I had somehow developed (I find it amazing that I have not become some sort of psychopath), would not let me rest.

Starting up GGKL, joining FTN, starting #projecttikar, all that, I realised, dovetailed into what I wanted for SHF, to take care of the disadvantaged, the poor, the hungry and the lonely.

There is something about being driven by anger and pride, you never let your guard down, you never let anyone close enough to you to drop those masks, you never let anyone in. One becomes very lonely that way. I remember not so very long ago, when I felt like I could no longer feel (that’s an oxymoron if ever there was one). That I was numb. I began to put my affairs in order – EPF beneficiaries, check, house mortgages, to be covered by insurance, check, life insurance, check – and ensured that my parents and my brother would be financially taken care of. I had done my duty by them. The plan was to make it look like an accident. That’s the thing about the successful suicides – nobody ever guesses. Nobody will know until it’s too late.

Then an old friend showed up in my life. Perceptive person that he was, I tried to avoid meeting him but couldn’t dodge him. He sat across from me in the conference room and asked me one question: So how are you planning to do it? I denied it, of course I did, but he had seen to the heart of the matter. The result of that meeting caused me to reexamine myself and my life. But that’s another story.

The not-so-end result caused me to decide to leave the PR industry and eventually set up SHF, but I was not done. Setting up a small artisanal business was hard work. Banging on bank doors, asking for loans to grow a fledgling company (half a dozen banks at last count, almost all of which was met by “we need a track record of 18 months to two years before we can lend you money and my increasingly angry response of “If I HAD the money to survive and grow my business for two years, I wouldn’t be coming to see you, would I?”), was nothing if not disheartening.

Juggling freelance consulting work while trying to grow the business was draining. Insomnia, which I already had, became worse. I had started volunteering with FTN while running GGKL. But the solitary nocturnal wanderings in the city started again. I became increasingly aware of the “invisibles” of this city of Kuala Lumpur, the people I now call the citizens of Kolumpo Below. And that led me to start up #projecttikar.

And now… now, I have begun another chapter. A chapter where all my projects come together, where if this succeeds, I have an answer and a solution to the problems I have seen and identified. A scary new chapter, filled with even more uncertainties, even more pit falls, even more challenges. But it is something that I am willing to risk everything for, which is why I have even put up my apartment, my home, for sale, because it needs seed money, because no bloodsucking banker would back me, because it has never been done before.

A friend asked me recently: ” You’re having problems even taking care of yourself and you’re struggling to pay your own bills. Why aren’t you taking care of yourself first instead of distracting yourself by doing all this homeless, urban poor stuff. Where are you going to live if you do this?”

My answer to that now is clear. It’s not where I will live, it’s HOW I will live. And that’s how I am taking care of myself. If it means taking care of other people – if it means giving them a fighting chance to earn a living, to succeed, to achieve something – it will do.

And how will I do it? By doing what I do best – feeding people, something I find joy in doing. It’s not just about filling a person’s stomach. It’s also about feeding their souls. And sometimes, all it takes to feed the soul is a little care and consideration – eye contact and an acknowledgement that they exist, that they’re still a part of humanity.

Because I am once again on a budget, I have begun developing recipes that can feed many yet is relatively inexpensive. The following is a recipe that can feed six to nine people cheaply.

The ingredients for my version of Mee Siam

One packet of mee hoon or vermicelli (RM2.50 – RM4.50, depending on brand)
Three to four cloves of garlic, chopped
Three to four shallots, chopped
A couple pieces of asam keping
Cooking oil, about half a cup
Two to three eggs (budget one egg for two people, for an entire pack of vermicelli that can feed up to nine people, four eggs will do, cost RM2)
Two pieces of white tofu (the hard type, not the soft type, cost RM0,50 apiece)
A stick of fish cake, or two (Optional, depending on budget – anywhere from RM1 to RM3.50 for a pack of three fish cakes)
Shrimp (optional)
Half a bottle of Straits Heritage Foods Sambal Belacan (RM11 a bottle)
Two to three stalks of spring onion
One or two tomatoes, quartered and cut into eighths (this is optional, depending on whether you have it in your fridge)
Salt and pepper to season

Soak vermicelli in cold water with a little salt and a couple pieces of asam keping (tamarind slices)

Step One (prep – about 15-20 minutes):

Soak vermicelli in cold water with a little salt and a couple pieces of asam keping for about 20 minutes
Finely chop garlic and shallot
Slice tofu into cubes
Slice fish cakes
Cut the tomatoes
Cut the spring onion into about 2cm lengths
Crack and beat the eggs

Step Two (Cooking – about 15-30 minutes, depending on how good you are at multitasking)

Make sure you have a big enough wok or divide up the cooking into two rounds
Heat oil in pan, toss in tofu cubes to brown
In another pan, start making thin egg crepes. Slice the omelettes thinly into strips after they have cooled down
After the tofu cubes are browned, toss in chopped garlic and shallots and saute until translucent
Toss in half bottle of SHF sambal belacan
Saute until fragrant (it should be about five to eight minutes)
Toss in browned tofu cubes
Toss in shrimp
Toss in tomatoes
Saute for about two minutes
Toss in the vermicelli
Add about half a cup of water
Start stirring and tossing, from the bottom of the pan up, to make sure as little as possible of the vermicelli sticks to the pan
It will seem a little wet at first but as the vermicelli soaks up the sauteed sambal mix, it will start to turn a light salmon colour.
Stir and toss until it is almost dry
Add the sliced spring onion
Add the egg strips
Saute until dry (it should be for another 10 minutes or less)

A simple and easy to prepare meal for six to nine people

It might sound time consuming and there might seem to be a lot of ingredients but most of the ingredients are optional, depending on budget. With the basic ingredients (not including shrimp, one portion should cost anywhere from RM1.50 to RM2.50. Garnish with a sprinkling of SHF’s sambal udang kering.

Just because I’m on a budget doesn’t mean I can’t feed my friends. Besides, it makes me happy to see them enjoying my food. And that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

Joyce

My mother, my anchor

Posted on March 18, 2015April 9, 2015 by joycelynlee

Mum’s not been well lately. For a while she was recovering, but with the recent passing of her youngest brother, her health got worse and she slipped into a depression that I’ve never seen before. They were close, but it was probably harder on her because not only are there now four out of 10 siblings left, but they – my mother and my uncle – were close. They spoke every other day, even though they didn’t see each other that often.

I couldn’t understand it at first; people pass on, unexpected or not, the living grieve for a while and then get on with their lives.

But seeing my mother take to her bed, not eat, not talk, not move unless necessary got me first worried then anxious and then panicky. I began focusing all my energy and attention on getting her well, tossing most other activities by the wayside. Seeing her decline made me realise that I was not ready to lose her. I wasn’t mentally and emotionally equipped for it.

Mother and I didn’t start out having a good relationship. Growing up, we were almost always at odds with each other. I was an angry teenager, she was an almost typical controlling, domineering mother, brought up in the nyonya tradition of what a woman should be – quiet, well-mannered, well-trained in the kitchen, a woman who should be a compliment to a husband and a matriarch to her new family. I can’t even begin to enumerate the battles we used to have; some loud and angry, but mostly quiet and cold.

Our relationship only started improving after I moved out in my late 20s, something that is Just, Not. Done. by any female in a good Peranakan family. A woman does not move out of the family house unless it is to her husband’s house. Even then, she would try to get me married off, mentioning “that nice boy” that some wattle-chinned flappy-armed old matchmaker scraped up from only the gods knew where, and trying to persuade me to “meet only”, “no harm getting to know new people”.

Thinking back, much of my rebellion began in the kitchen, where a good nyonya girl was expected to learn not just the family recipes but also other kitchen skills, including knowledge of spices and good knife skills. I remember being in the kitchen with her and my maternal grandmother where she would castigate me for sloppy knife work.

Slicing and julienning vegetables were an endurance test, with her looking over my shoulder, chastising me for being so “cho lor*”, commenting on how kasar** and chunky my vegetables were.

The most painful dish for me to help prepare was always, hands down, jiu hu char, stir fried shredded cuttlefish with vegetables, a quintessential Penang dish. While the main ingredient of the dish is actually the lowly turnip, not having dried shredded cuttlefish in the dish is just unacceptable.

Ironically, it was only after I moved out and started cooking for myself and my housemates that my knife skills started improving, Even now, however, I slip up. I don’t practice enough. But, unbeknownst to mother, I have been practising the jiu hu char recipe.

The Ingredients for jiu hu char

JHC5 — The star of the show – dried cuttlefish

Two medium sized turnips also known in Hokkien as bangkuang, about 500gm – 600gms
Two medium carrots
About 250gms of long beans
Four to five mid-sized shallots
Half a bulb of garlic
About 150gms of pork belly
About 70gms of small prawns
Five to six dried shiitake mushrooms
Five to six pieces of small dried cuttlefish
Handful of chopped coriander for garnishing
A few sprigs of spring onions, to be diced for garnishing
Light soy sauce
Dark soy sauce
Pepper
Sugar
Salt
Oil

Step One: Prep

Soak the dried mushrooms in water. Reserve the stock for later. Mushroom stock is a great flavour agent, giving your food a more umami mouthfeel. Once the mushrooms are soft, slice them thinly.
Soak the dried cuttlefish for a few minutes, then julienne or shred them.
Slice and julienne all the vegetables. Of course, with all the latest technology, we can use the food processor now, but the old school methods are still the best for this. i find that using a food processor makes the vegetables a bit soggier, while julienning by hand ensures better crispness.
Boil the pork belly with a couple of crushed garlic cloves; it helps to get rid of any residual “porky” smell. Also makes it easier to slice the pork thinly, once its cooked. But if you forget that step or have no issues with smell, just slice the pork belly thinly.
Chop the shallots and remaining garlic cloves finely.
Depending on how many pairs of hands there are in the kitchen and whether you’re using a food processor or julienning, prep can take anywhere from 20 to 90 minutes.

Step Two: Cooking

Heat oil in in wok. About one third of a cup should do, but you can add more if you want. I prefer the vegetables less oily and slightly dry as it holds its shape better.
Add chopped garlic and shallots and fry until translucent.
Add the shredded cuttlefish. Fry on low fire until aromatic.
Add the pork, fry for a minute or two more.
Add the julienned turnip, carrots and green beans.
Stir fry until the vegetables are slightly soft.
Add the mushrooms, together with half the mushroom stock. Stir it around some more.
Taste.
Keep stirring until the liquid has dried somewhat.
Add about a teaspoonful of light soy sauce, a sprinkle of salt and pepper (about half a teaspoon should do) and the rest of the mushroom stock and stir the vegetables thoroughly.
Cover the wok with a lid for about five minutes.
By the time you get back to it, the vegetables should be fairly soft.
Taste.
Add the prawns and a little of the pork stock, if you boiled the pork, to moisten the vegetables. Sprinkle about a teaspoon of sugar. Stir. Some people leave off the prawns but I find that they add natural sweetness to the dish and give it better mouthfeel than plain sugar.
Mix a teaspoon of dark soy sauce, equal amount of light soy sauce, if you think the dish needs more salt, and about a quarter of a cup of water.
Add to vegetables.
Stir fry until prawns are cooked. By this time, the vegetables should be thoroughly cooked and soft yet retain a slight crunchiness. There should also be very little liquid left. The shredded vegetables should not clump together; you should be able to see individual strands of turnip and carrot.
Taste. Season with salt and pepper accordingly.

Congratulations, you have just cooked jiu hu char, a dish synonymous with the Penang Peranakans. Eat either with hot white rice or as the filling in a sambal belacan smeared lettuce leaf.

I hope mum gets well enough soon for me to cook this for her. It will be a role reversal.

Joyce

* Cho lor – Hokkien. Translates to rough, but usually used in relation to people. It usually means the person is clumsy or unrefined, not something one wants to hear in the description of someone.

** Kasar – Malay. Translates to rough, or coarse. If used to describe a person, it usually means the person is coarse, unrefined, not really bad mannered but not quiet clued in on social niceties.

Dancing with Myself…

Posted on December 11, 2014March 22, 2015 by joycelynlee

Drew Barrymore said this a while ago: “There’s a tremendous difference between alone and lonely. You could be lonely in a group of people. I like being alone. I like eating by myself. I go home at night and just watch a movie or hang out with my dog. I have to exert myself and really say, oh God, I’ve got to see my friends ’cause I’m too content being by myself.”

And I have to confess, as I get older and more comfortable in my own skin, I have begun to appreciate my solitude more and more, to the point where, if I am not forced to make appointments, I would rather hang out at home with my books and music and movies and TV series. Besides, with the interwebs these days, it’s difficult to not be connected to the world.

But still, a girl has still got to eat. And some days, when I don’t feel very creative or can’t be bothered to recreate any of Jamie Oliver’s 15 minute meals, I am very glad that mum provides me with a steady supply of sambal udang kering and sambal belacan. As long as there’s bread and bacon and assorted sambals, I have no need to venture out into the world and I can eat what I want, when I want.

And I have to say, sambal belacan goes on everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. Take one late night, when I was hungry. All I did was fry up some bacon and an egg, toss in some sprouts (so I can pretend it’s a healthy thing I’m eating; and the bread is sprouted grain bread, so it’s REALLY healthy), slather on a little sambal belacan in place of ketchup and Voila! Ten minutes.

Bacon, egg, sprouts and sambal belacan sandwich

But I’m Malaysian and, sometimes, truly lazy. So, for those lazy times, it’s instant noodles. But since I occasionally have pretensions to being a gourmand, not to mention delusions of eating healthy food, here’s what I do:

Step 1: Wash egg.

Step 2: Put egg in pan for water to boil

Step 3. When water boils, add instant noodles and handful of fresh vegetables. Toss in packet of flavouring.

Step 4: After two minutes, pour it all into a bowl, rescue boiled egg, peel under running water (unless you have asbestos fingers).

Step 5: Garnish with sambal udang kering.

A more original take on the instant noodle staple

Time check: Five minutes. And if you serve it in a nice bowl, it looks good too.

I mean, I want to eat well (although if I’m making instant noodles, the term “eating well” becomes a little debatable), but I’m just to damn lazy to do anything more than throw stuff together. And speaking of throwing stuff together, this is literally a two-minute meal: