Feasting into Autumn
Zesty fish curry, eaten by me with the right hints of sour, spicy, coconut milky and peppery. It takes me to warm tropical nights, refreshing after a stormy downpour, with the breezes coming in at twilight from the coast. Fish head cheeks or soft fillet, what melts in the mouth also brings to the imagination of tales from the spice trade, of okra fingers simmering in the heady mix of chilli and paste, of onion slices melting into the subtle flavours of kallipillay leaf aromas.
This was no pavement side stall dish on a tropical isle, but in the dining room of a cousin's house in north-west Sydney. It might have been coolish outside, but the warmth of such soul food and good company provided a totally different ambience inside on this weekend night. Taken with hot Chinese tea or hazelnut-flavoured white coffee, the stomach feels the sensations of food and drink which are the products of multi-culturalism, not just as relatively recent novelties in capital cities of the Australian continent, but as the consequence of hundreds of years of racial inter-mingling in South East Asia.
Such cuisine crossed racial and cultural lines long before human hearts did so. Before the advent of contemporary globalism, there have always existed pockets of the cultural melting pot along the great trade routes, whether by the oceans or inland. Food has always been the first beneficial recipient of such human inter-mixing, before customs, sport, learning and genes get enriched. For example, the increased number of Eurasian marriages in the Sydney or Melbourne basins, as we hurl ourselves into the 21st century, must mean Eurasian meals, kitchen ware and concepts, before the consequent chilren arrive.
There were no Indians present in this home-cooked dinner party in Carlingford, and yet we were partaking an essentially Indian dish. Or what is classified otherwise as a Straits Chinese dish. Immigrants take the best from their immediate neighbours, add dashes of love and ingredients from their homeland, resulting in something new, yet something old.
I have had the privilege of enjoying such dishes wherever I go. Whether back in my hometown of Penang, or in the suburbs of greater Sydney, I savour the different variations of a themed dish. The steamed Hainan chicken rice I have in Australia takes advantage of the quality of the chicken raised in a different way from China. The prawns from different seas make for variations in the quintessential richness of the prawn noodle soup. The bean sprouts from Australian shops are much sweeter than those in Vietnam or Singapore. It is not just the ingredients, but maybe the temperatures in the kitchen, practices borrowed from the dominant culture of towns and cities lived in and the personal touches of the cooks.
I live in an essentially Italian and Eastern European town, where I look for Chinese vegetables in a Mediterranean produce inspired market and add olive oil to my ethnic soul food. Sometimes the twain shall not meet, and one uses common sense in knowing the limits. However, when I look at my simmering pasta and my steamed dumplings, I cannot help but think of my childhood noodles and my Russian friend.
This was no pavement side stall dish on a tropical isle, but in the dining room of a cousin's house in north-west Sydney. It might have been coolish outside, but the warmth of such soul food and good company provided a totally different ambience inside on this weekend night. Taken with hot Chinese tea or hazelnut-flavoured white coffee, the stomach feels the sensations of food and drink which are the products of multi-culturalism, not just as relatively recent novelties in capital cities of the Australian continent, but as the consequence of hundreds of years of racial inter-mingling in South East Asia.
Such cuisine crossed racial and cultural lines long before human hearts did so. Before the advent of contemporary globalism, there have always existed pockets of the cultural melting pot along the great trade routes, whether by the oceans or inland. Food has always been the first beneficial recipient of such human inter-mixing, before customs, sport, learning and genes get enriched. For example, the increased number of Eurasian marriages in the Sydney or Melbourne basins, as we hurl ourselves into the 21st century, must mean Eurasian meals, kitchen ware and concepts, before the consequent chilren arrive.
There were no Indians present in this home-cooked dinner party in Carlingford, and yet we were partaking an essentially Indian dish. Or what is classified otherwise as a Straits Chinese dish. Immigrants take the best from their immediate neighbours, add dashes of love and ingredients from their homeland, resulting in something new, yet something old.
I have had the privilege of enjoying such dishes wherever I go. Whether back in my hometown of Penang, or in the suburbs of greater Sydney, I savour the different variations of a themed dish. The steamed Hainan chicken rice I have in Australia takes advantage of the quality of the chicken raised in a different way from China. The prawns from different seas make for variations in the quintessential richness of the prawn noodle soup. The bean sprouts from Australian shops are much sweeter than those in Vietnam or Singapore. It is not just the ingredients, but maybe the temperatures in the kitchen, practices borrowed from the dominant culture of towns and cities lived in and the personal touches of the cooks.
I live in an essentially Italian and Eastern European town, where I look for Chinese vegetables in a Mediterranean produce inspired market and add olive oil to my ethnic soul food. Sometimes the twain shall not meet, and one uses common sense in knowing the limits. However, when I look at my simmering pasta and my steamed dumplings, I cannot help but think of my childhood noodles and my Russian friend.
Comments
You have raised a pertinent and interesting question. From what I gather, bloggers have to be practical and street smart in providing an optimal level of copyright protection for themselves. I suggest a middle of the road approach and utilsie the framework called Creative Commons.
Regards
Kevin