EMPING NOSTALGIA – Part 2
I remember that emping is available only or mostly after padi harvesting time. And so this traditional emping "dish" is not usually part of the dishes and traditional offerings served during Malay festivals of Hari Raya Puasa (or Aidil Fitri) and Aidil Adha unlike the ketupat or lemang.
This is probably because the two festivals follow the Islamic calendar, and during certain years they do not occur during those padi harvests time. Otherwise I could just wait until the next festival to taste it.
I remember also when I was still a small child in the 1950s, my aunties or uncles from Temerloh, Pahang, when making day-visits or longer to my home, would bring along with them fruits or traditional cakes (kuih) like dodol, wajik, or bahulu, and of course after padi harvest time, a small pack of rice and emping.
Usually, the emping dish would be made straightaway by my mother, helped by my elder sisters, and served before my aunties and uncles leave. And we will all have a good eat on the mengkuang mat on the floor, with light banters usually and small good-hearted gossips about other close relatives sometimes, before they bade farewell.
In the old days, relatives and friends freely share their bountiful harvests from the padi fields, fruit trees or orchards with other close relatives and friends.
It helped to tighten family ties and invariably strengthen the bonds of kinship and friendship among relatives and friends.
That’s the old Malay way that I remember.
Everyone was joyous and kind. Fruits that are in abundance or in season, like rambutans, durians, mangosteens, langsat and chiku., are freely given away in big gunny sacks to other relatives, neighbours and friends.
And so are padi and rice after harvest, and sometimes even chickens, ducks and goats. There were no economic or financial constraints or consideration. Bounty harvests are meant to be shared around.
Alas, now, in these modern times of technology, rocket science, and commercialism, everything must be paid for. Nothing is gotten for free. Whether fruits or … emping.
But that is understandable because the fruit trees and padi fields, planted and cultivated by my relatives in Temerloh, Pahang have all, in a sense, been 'destroyed', having to make way for modern housing and commercial, industrial and business development.
So there are no more God’s gifts that can be shared with others freely.
My Favorite Emping Recipe
The way I like to eat emping, my favorite style (or my dear mom’s method), is to mix them with grated coconut flesh and gula melaka (brown sugar). The traditional, round-wheel-shaped gula melaka that my mom usually kept in the kitchen, must first be cut and sliced into tiny pieces.
The three ingredients (emping, grated coconut flesh and gula melaka) are then mixed in a bowl, with a little salt added, and then served. With the right mixture of coconut and gula melaka, the final result or "concoction" tastes really yummy and delicious.
Why? Because this emping dish will present a delightful range and array of tastes.
It will taste a little sweet because of the gula melaka, but also fibrous and chewy because of the coconut flesh, and a bit salty with the pinch of salt, while the crunchy, dry and hard emping will sort of harmonise the whole taste!
Aww, please, I cannot describe further this tasty emping snack without wishing for a real taste of it again.
So, off I shall go now to the hypermarkets... but ... sigh... I don’t ever remember seeing them sold anywhere in those modern "facilities"...
Well then, I'll just have to remember to get them at some other rural kampung shops where padi is still planted, like in Kedah or Kelantan, whenever I pass through the villages.
And maybe then and only then, can I get to introduce the emping delicacy of my childhood days to my already grown up children.
But it’s better late than never.
LONGING FOR THE TASTE OF EMPING – Part 1
Emping - crunchy and delicious in the traditional way. It sounds very exotic.
Actually it’s just a local food delight that I always looked forward to relishing during my young-eating-everything-yummy days of nonchalance and naivete.
But it is a food delight that, through the evolution of time, now seems hard to find or procure, and, come to think of it, might perhaps soon cease to exist with each passing day because of modern development.
What is Emping?
Emping, to those who don’t know this Malay word, is those thin and flat pounded rice.
It is somewhat similar to oats. So what oat is to wheat, emping is actually rice, the staple food of most Asians, that has been pounded into dry, thin and flat pieces.
Sadly, emping, as mentioned earlier, is difficult to find and seldom found sold in shops in the city nowadays. I should know because I cannot remember ever seeing any, because otherwise I would have bought at least a small pack and share the joys of the traditional emping "dish" recipe with my children.
Living in the city has actually devoid my children from tasting something that I, in my childhood days, relished with the utmost pleasure, as emping were available rather aplenty during the good old days.
But now, emping can, perhaps, only be found at the traditional villages in the rural suburbs where padi is planted. I say, "perhaps" because I’m not too sure whether the modern padi farmers now apportion some of their harvested padi and rice to make them into emping. I hope they still do, because in the olden days, my padi-planter relatives always did.
And that was how I tasted and loved those thin pounded rice.
I lived in Temerloh, Pahang, when small, and most of my relatives then, besides being businessmen and rubber tappers, were also padi planters there. I remember padi planting was an economic activity quite extensively undertaken by my close relatives around the Batu Satu and Sungai Rabit areas in those old days.
Now of course, if we go to Temerloh, we cannot see any more padi fields. The new generation of my relatives living there are no more padi planters. They are businessmen and entrepreneurs (big and small) or are officers and office employees in the government and the private sectors.
Temerloh has, instead, been transformed into a fast burgeoning and busy commercial and industrial town in Pahang. I think it is the second largest town in Pahang after Kuantan, the state capital.
The rice fields that I remember where padi was planted by my aunties and uncles in the 1950s are now all occupied and transplanted by modern cement and brick buildings – shop-houses, residential estates and other structured properties.
And when in those old days the padi fields seemed to be quite a distance away from town, now if they had still existed, those padi fields will be really smack in the middle of town.
Sad feeling... I sometimes feel like I lost a certain part of my life whenever I pass those padi areas that are no more.
Well, never mind. That’s what is known as development. It’s for the good of the country and the folks.
And the best way to soothe the nostalgic mind is always to look forward to the future, right?
Emping - crunchy and delicious in the traditional way. It sounds very exotic.
Actually it’s just a local food delight that I always looked forward to relishing during my young-eating-everything-yummy days of nonchalance and naivete.
But it is a food delight that, through the evolution of time, now seems hard to find or procure, and, come to think of it, might perhaps soon cease to exist with each passing day because of modern development.
What is Emping?
Emping, to those who don’t know this Malay word, is those thin and flat pounded rice.
It is somewhat similar to oats. So what oat is to wheat, emping is actually rice, the staple food of most Asians, that has been pounded into dry, thin and flat pieces.
Sadly, emping, as mentioned earlier, is difficult to find and seldom found sold in shops in the city nowadays. I should know because I cannot remember ever seeing any, because otherwise I would have bought at least a small pack and share the joys of the traditional emping "dish" recipe with my children.
Living in the city has actually devoid my children from tasting something that I, in my childhood days, relished with the utmost pleasure, as emping were available rather aplenty during the good old days.
But now, emping can, perhaps, only be found at the traditional villages in the rural suburbs where padi is planted. I say, "perhaps" because I’m not too sure whether the modern padi farmers now apportion some of their harvested padi and rice to make them into emping. I hope they still do, because in the olden days, my padi-planter relatives always did.
And that was how I tasted and loved those thin pounded rice.
I lived in Temerloh, Pahang, when small, and most of my relatives then, besides being businessmen and rubber tappers, were also padi planters there. I remember padi planting was an economic activity quite extensively undertaken by my close relatives around the Batu Satu and Sungai Rabit areas in those old days.
Now of course, if we go to Temerloh, we cannot see any more padi fields. The new generation of my relatives living there are no more padi planters. They are businessmen and entrepreneurs (big and small) or are officers and office employees in the government and the private sectors.
Temerloh has, instead, been transformed into a fast burgeoning and busy commercial and industrial town in Pahang. I think it is the second largest town in Pahang after Kuantan, the state capital.
The rice fields that I remember where padi was planted by my aunties and uncles in the 1950s are now all occupied and transplanted by modern cement and brick buildings – shop-houses, residential estates and other structured properties.
And when in those old days the padi fields seemed to be quite a distance away from town, now if they had still existed, those padi fields will be really smack in the middle of town.
Sad feeling... I sometimes feel like I lost a certain part of my life whenever I pass those padi areas that are no more.
Well, never mind. That’s what is known as development. It’s for the good of the country and the folks.
And the best way to soothe the nostalgic mind is always to look forward to the future, right?
I STILL REMEMBER THE DELIGHTFUL TASTE OF TURTLE EGGS
Turtle eggs used to be my favorite delicacy when small.
When I was living in Temerloh, Pahang in the 1950’s, I can still remember my father bringing back loads of those round, ping-pong-like, soft-but-unbreakable eggs he bought from his working travels to the states of Trengganu and Kelantan.
Even when my family moved to Kuala Lumpur in the 1960’s, I remember eating and relishing those turtle eggs brought by relatives and friends of my parents from Pahang when they came to visit us in the big city.
Well, the turtle eggs were sort of something different from the usual "buah tangan" or gifts given by visiting friends or relatives, a delightful Malay traditional practice when making visits.
Normally snacks and delicacies like "dodol" and other traditional cakes (kuih) are brought when visiting. But more usually, there’ll sometimes be a big sackful of the fruits in season, like rambutans, langsat, and that "King of fruits", the durians.
And of course when I was young, like other young children, I always look forward to visits by relatives not only because of the buah tangan, but the greater thrill of meeting my cousins of similar age as well. We could play all kinds of games together, although sometimes the play would turn into friendly "fights". Ah, I digress...
Back to turtle eggs...
But as I grew up and the years went by, I found that those tasty turtle eggs seemed to decline in quantity. Well, evidently less of those turtles came up to nest at the beaches in Pahang and Terengganu during the 1990’s. This phenomenon was reflected by the higher prices for the eggs sold, and the scarcity of finding sellers of turtle eggs. I don't think I ever ate any of them during those times until now.
HOW I ATE TURTLE EGGS
I don’t know and I can't tell about other ways of eating or cooking turtle eggs. That’s because in my family I remember only one way done by my mother.
My mom would boil the turtle eggs just like she would boil chicken eggs, and that is by putting the eggs in a pot full of water and letting them cook under a hot fire.
But when fully boiled, unlike chicken or duck eggs, I remember those turtle eggs will float to the top of the pot, perhaps because of the hot air trapped in the shell. And although seems soft, their egg shells don’t break easily like chicken’s or duck’s eggs.
Well, turtle eggs taste especially good when taken just after it has been boiled and when the inside yolk is warm.
I remember my favorite way to eat them was just to make a small opening in the soft shell with my fingers. Then, I will put a bit of "kicap" or salty soy sauce through the opening, and the whole egg is sucked from the small opening. Ooowah, yummy, yummy, really delicious!!
But even without the soy sauce, turtle eggs taste somewhat a bit salty, and the orange yolk has a sandy or grainy feel to it.
No, I can never forget those great delightful taste. Really.
I would eat loads of them if I could, but usually my parents would set a quota of four or five only for each of us in the family (of seven siblings), so everyone gets a fair share.
Now, my dear friends, why am I telling this story? What’s my point?
Oh, read my next blog post.
Turtle eggs used to be my favorite delicacy when small.
When I was living in Temerloh, Pahang in the 1950’s, I can still remember my father bringing back loads of those round, ping-pong-like, soft-but-unbreakable eggs he bought from his working travels to the states of Trengganu and Kelantan.
Even when my family moved to Kuala Lumpur in the 1960’s, I remember eating and relishing those turtle eggs brought by relatives and friends of my parents from Pahang when they came to visit us in the big city.
Well, the turtle eggs were sort of something different from the usual "buah tangan" or gifts given by visiting friends or relatives, a delightful Malay traditional practice when making visits.
Normally snacks and delicacies like "dodol" and other traditional cakes (kuih) are brought when visiting. But more usually, there’ll sometimes be a big sackful of the fruits in season, like rambutans, langsat, and that "King of fruits", the durians.
And of course when I was young, like other young children, I always look forward to visits by relatives not only because of the buah tangan, but the greater thrill of meeting my cousins of similar age as well. We could play all kinds of games together, although sometimes the play would turn into friendly "fights". Ah, I digress...
Back to turtle eggs...
But as I grew up and the years went by, I found that those tasty turtle eggs seemed to decline in quantity. Well, evidently less of those turtles came up to nest at the beaches in Pahang and Terengganu during the 1990’s. This phenomenon was reflected by the higher prices for the eggs sold, and the scarcity of finding sellers of turtle eggs. I don't think I ever ate any of them during those times until now.
HOW I ATE TURTLE EGGS
I don’t know and I can't tell about other ways of eating or cooking turtle eggs. That’s because in my family I remember only one way done by my mother.
My mom would boil the turtle eggs just like she would boil chicken eggs, and that is by putting the eggs in a pot full of water and letting them cook under a hot fire.
But when fully boiled, unlike chicken or duck eggs, I remember those turtle eggs will float to the top of the pot, perhaps because of the hot air trapped in the shell. And although seems soft, their egg shells don’t break easily like chicken’s or duck’s eggs.
Well, turtle eggs taste especially good when taken just after it has been boiled and when the inside yolk is warm.
I remember my favorite way to eat them was just to make a small opening in the soft shell with my fingers. Then, I will put a bit of "kicap" or salty soy sauce through the opening, and the whole egg is sucked from the small opening. Ooowah, yummy, yummy, really delicious!!
But even without the soy sauce, turtle eggs taste somewhat a bit salty, and the orange yolk has a sandy or grainy feel to it.
No, I can never forget those great delightful taste. Really.
I would eat loads of them if I could, but usually my parents would set a quota of four or five only for each of us in the family (of seven siblings), so everyone gets a fair share.
Now, my dear friends, why am I telling this story? What’s my point?
Oh, read my next blog post.
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