Category: Native Cuisine

In the kitchen at the rear end of the house, the floors are lined with newspapers, the pestle and mortar making crisp sounds while pounding. Grandmother Yap Ah Hwa (transliteration) woke up before dawn, busying herself with preparing ingredients to make red rice wine, from her energetic and smooth workflow it’s hard to discover that she is already 72 years old. This is the red rice wine which every single FúZhōunese household brew on their own, an indispensable ingredient in preparing Fú Zhōu dishes, its unique mellowness a key factor in complementing aroma and taste, coating food with a rosy tint, and also symbolizing good luck during festivals. The familiar native taste did not fade away with migration, instead it increased unity, as well as spreading the intense love for red rice wine to community members from other nativities.

Fú Zhōu red rice wine is a type of Chinese rice wine, made up of three simple ingredients: wine yeast cake, cooked glutinous rice, and specialty red yeast rice produced in the Mǐn region in China. The ingredients are mixed together and inserted into an urn, storing in a cool shaded place for the lengthy brewing process. At the end of the fermentation cycle, the liquid extracted from filtration is red rice wine, and the final residue is called vinasse. Red yeast rice is a type of fermented rice which acquires its colour from being cultivated with the mold Monascus purpureus, with health and nutritional benefits in traditional Chinese medicine of promoting digestion and improving blood circulation.

FúZhōunese make up the majority of the population in Chuah, Negeri Sembilan, where every household withholds the custom of brewing red rice wine by themselves, however the recipes and methods used may differ. Some families will insert the ingredients layer by layer; some add in water; some will add red yeast into rice wine and mix evenly; the length of fermentation also ranges, and the resulting taste varies. Grandma Yap (transliteration) who lives in Kampung Baru Sungai Nipah is particular in the ingredients she uses in brewing red rice wine, ensuring good quality and rich taste, which her family and friends enjoy. Initially, the red yeast rice and wine yeast cake are sun dried and finely pounded in advance, the urn being repeatedly washed and thoroughly dried. When brewing red rice wine, the glutinous rice is cooked and let cool overnight. The next day, all ingredients are mixed evenly, poured into a canvas bag, and tied up tightly. Then the urn is sealed and kept in a cool dry place to ferment for at least 75 days.

When she was young, Grandma Yap (transliteration) learned by asking relatives and friends for advice and doing research, experimenting on her own, never once slacking during the preparation and brewing procedures, therefore her brewing method is extraordinarily successful with a high yield. After fermenting for two months and a half, she could reap ten bottles of red wine, compressing the vinasse till it dries up, without wasting even one drop of red wine, and finally keeps the vinasse. Luck is crucial in brewing red rice wine, depending on favourable conditions for a smooth and successful brew. Some people who are having bad luck will be unsuccessful in brewing, or the yield is low and tastes bad. Other precautions and instructions include: from preparing ingredients, to sun drying the urn to expel residing flavours; some are beware of people who attended funerals, pregnant women, women in their confinement, or menstruating women from approaching the red rice wine they brew.

Embarking on a tipsy culinary journey, experiencing an intoxicating lesson in cultural customs. Over the decades, Grandma Yap’s red rice wine became a familiar and unforgettable fondness of her family, an essence of blended native cultures. Treating family and friends to red rice wine during festive celebrations, using vinasse to cook a table full of reddish Fú Zhōu dishes such as red wine chicken and mee sua, red vinasse pork etc. Acquiring the skills of brewing red rice wine could bring about the continuity of Fú Zhōu dishes over several generations.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : White River

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

The nutty aroma of peanuts, paired with the rich aroma of lard, and a thick mouthfeel, the almost extinct lard cake was a must-have specialty dessert in Fú Zhōu banquets. Within 15 minutes by car from Bukit Pelanduk, at the rear of a sky blue wooden cottage in the village of Tanah Merah Site C, Mr Chong Teck Fong (transliteration) could be sighted busying himself in the kitchen, attentively crafting traditional lard cake. Lard cake, also known as Manchuria cake, is a Fú Zhōu treat made from a mixture of lard, peanuts, sugar, and flour. It is also commonly found in Sitiawan, Perak and Sibu, Sarawak, however the preparation methods and mouthfeel may differ.

In the mid-18th century, the Manchuria Eight Banners army were garrisoned at Fú Zhōu, leaving a plethora of snacks and treats, among them is lard cake, which was rumoured to be a royal dessert. Migrating from Yún Nán, China to Malaysia, Mr Chong’s father mastered the skills of making lard cake in his hometown, even though he set up a swine farm in Malaysia, he continues the craft in supplying banquets, gaining fame due to the familiar native birthplace taste.

The process of making lard cake is complicated and time-consuming, stressing on the quality of ingredients as well as the skills of the chef, requiring at least two days to complete. The ingredients include lard, flour, sugar, peanuts, sesame, and egg, slowly mixed together, poured into a wooden mould, and then steamed. Nowadays, the production of lard cake found in other regions rely on machinery, even substituting lard with vegetable oils, resulting in a shriveled oily cake. Reluctant to affect the mouthfeel and quality of lard cake due to the crude production process, Mr Chong persists in genuine handcrafting, without involving machinery.

First of all, lard is scraped off the pork flesh, cut into small cubes, stir fry and season, mix evenly, add in flour, rub into a paste, then add in sugar to maintain a thick mouthfeel. Peanut is the most laborious ingredient involved, requiring selection of suitably sized peanuts, ensuring the peanuts are evenly heated during stir frying, then pick out peanuts with the same cookedness and colour to crush. These procedures take a lot of patience to be completed smoothly.

The advice of Mr Chong’s late father on how to make lard cake still rings in his ears, especially how to determine the suitable cube size when cutting the lard. As Mr Chong starts to learn making lard cakes in his middle-aged years, dispersed together with the lard cake aroma wafts are strands of discreet yet earnest love from his father, hugging him in an embrace. Time flies without leaving any trace, reminiscence and missing the family becomes more apparent. On the annual mark of his father’s death day, Mr Chong always makes lard cake as a tribute to his late father.

The wooden moulds made by Mr Chong himself have removable corners to ease taking out the end product of lard cakes; underneath the wooden pane are small holes to eliminate excess fat so that the mouthfeel would not be too oily. The length of steaming duration depends on the volume, as well as affecting the oiliness, where extending the duration may eliminate more excess fat, however steaming for too long will cause dryness to the lard cake. As the piping hot lard cake is removed from the steaming pot, it needs to be cooled down to set before cutting into inch-size cubes, so that it won’t stick to the knife.

The 60-year-old Mr Chong is the only person in his family to master the skill of making lard cakes, besides worrying about the continuity of lard cakes, he is also uneasy about people lacking the will to learn and persistence in enduring the strenuous traditional making process, therefore he has not passed on the skill to anyone yet. As tides of time sweep through, will this centuries-old legacy regain its glory?

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Evon Pang
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : The Path from Serenity Studio – YouTube

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

As dawn breaks, there is still mild fogs throughout the air, dewdrops rolling down from the tips of leaves. Husband and wife, Lim Boon Seng (transliteration) and Loke Yuet Kwai (transliteration), parked their motorcycle aside, heading into the bushes after getting their stuff and tools ready. In what seemed to be thickets overgrown with weeds, both husband and wife utilise their sharp eyesight and deft hands, each holding a sack in one hand, while the other hand accurately picking fiddlehead ferns growing among the bushes and weeds.

Fiddleheads are wildgrown foliage, the young shoots curling inwards, looking like dainty commas or question marks, belonging to the family of edible shrubs (ferns), also known as Diplazium esculentum. They generally grow at moist, watery but sunny guttersides, having incredible vitality and wide adaptability. Common edible parts are the curly tips of young shoots and upper stems which are more delicate. Fiddleheads are nutrient-rich, boasting of high mineral content, high protein, high fibre etc. After cooking, its texture is smooth with a little mucilage, its mouthfeel crispy without any trace of bitterness.

Growing naturally in the wild, fiddleheads have a strong resistance, after the rain, they grow tenaciously in broad stretches, full of vitality as in the poem “undestroyable by fire, growing again when the breeze blows”. Nowadays, urban development and environmental pollution, as well as artificial cultivation and pesticides, are unsuitable for the growth of fiddleheads. They are only found growing wild in swampy wetlands, a type of foliage popular with rural villagers and indigenous folk. Due to the wide distribution and diversity of Diplazium esculentum, they have different names and nicknames across all regions, such as paku vegetables, wild ferns, perennial ferns, tsuen choi, midin (East Malaysia), lynx (Taiwan), sayur paku, pucuk paku, fiddleheads etc.

The hot sun shining above their heads, the ground beneath their feet humid, the 70-year-old Lim Boon Seng (transliteration) and his 67-year-old wife Loke Yuet Kwai (transliteration) each bearing one or two sacks full of fiddleheads, as well as ripe cassava harvested along the way, loading onto their motorcycle, ready to trade with restaurants or customers who placed orders. The both of them stay in Bukit Pelanduk, giving up swine farming 20 years ago in consequence of the Nipah virus outbreak tragedy, shifting towards the agricultural industry such as planting cassava and yam to make a living, one of their activities being gathering fiddleheads.

Due to the growing environment and distinctive feature of fiddleheads, there are certain dangers in the gathering process. Apart from preventing bugs and mosquitoes bites, there is need to constantly staying alert, taking precautions against attacks from snakes, lizards and wild bees which often inhabit the wild. Besides, to ensure a consistent supply of fiddleheads, the duo will walk around in search of suitable thickets, some of them as far as 20 minutes away by car. There are a few regular locations where they take routine care and manage properly to facilitate continual growth and ease gathering.

After the disaster brought upon by the Nipah virus outbreak, Lim Boon Seng (transliteration) and Loke Yuet Kwai (transliteration) and their family pull themselves back together, returning to their home in the village to seek an alternative way in making a living, their unyielding spirit similar to wildgrown fiddleheads, determined to survive.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Drone : Daniel Lim
Video Editor : Evon Pang
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : Beautiful & Emotional from MorningLightMusic – YouTube

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

Inside the well-lit kitchen, both mother and daughter, 77-year-old Tan Ai Hua (transliteration) and 53-year-old Low Lan Chee (transliteration) are busy at work, each performing their own duties while at times helping each other, without a moment’s slacking. Briefly, a spread of Fú Zhōu home cooked food is served, the sumptuous dishes fit for a banquet. Among them is Fú Zhōu Peaceful Eggs with its complicated procedures, a must-have during festive celebrations, weddings, funerals, gatherings and farewells of FúZhōunese and their relatives. It symbolizes serenity and peace, bearing hopes for year-long good health and safety.

Peaceful Eggs are also known as Golden Eggs. Folklore goes that in year 1564, when General Qī Jì Guāng and his army faced pirates at Fú Níng (now Fú Dǐng district), the villagers try to support, therefore deciding on deep fried hard-boiled Golden Eggs, to feed the military personnel, as it is easy to keep and delicious, without the need to peel shells. After General Qī Jì Guāng succeeded in banishing the pirates, the local livelihood was back to normal, the seaside areas were peaceful, and people went around happily. As a remembrance of General Qī Jì Guāng’s contribution, Golden Eggs were renamed to Peaceful Eggs.

To date, due to changes in regional food culture, the poultry eggs used in Peaceful Eggs are different. In the seaside areas of Fú Zhōu in China, people mostly use duck eggs, homophonic with “suppressing waves” in the Fú Zhōu dialect, praying for calm waves and a safe, fruitful journey. Chefs use quail eggs or dove eggs as replacement in banquets to suit the recent food trends, quail is homophonic with “safety”, therefore well received by most people. There are also FúZhōunese who source materials locally, replacing duck eggs with chicken eggs. The only thing unchanged is the deep rooted inheritance of native food culture from generation to generation.

In Bukit Pelanduk where the majority is FúZhōunese, Low Lan Chee (transliteration) and her mother uses up to nine ingredients to cook Fú Zhōu Peaceful Eggs, including bamboo shoots, shiitake mushroom, black fungus, carrots, cabbage, lily, minced pork, and eggs. The preparation of ingredients is extremely time-consuming, apart from cutting all ingredients into fine shreds, the selection of ingredients and the cooking method is also quite particular. For instance baby bamboo shoots needs to be pre-ordered from vegetable farmers, depending on its harvest; the eggs are peeled after being hard-boiled, and then deep fried in hot oil, finally adding in the stir-fried ingredients, a pot containing a cultural dish inherited for generations: Peaceful Eggs, is completed.

To cook this dish, it contains hope and blessing towards life.
To consume this dish, it accommodates prayers and cherish from others.
To master this dish, it continues the cultural legacy.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : Kiss The Sky

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

Peeling the flower cluster of the Attap plant layer by layer, wrapping with a plastic bag for the liquid to gradually flow in, that is how Air Nira Nipah or more commonly known as Attap seed water came to be. Freshly extracted Nipah water can be consumed immediately. The liquid is translucent with a hint of brownish colour, its taste is richly sweet, its function is to cool down the human body and aids digestion. Nipah water is naturally fermented after standing in the open for 8 hours, the liquid will turn into a semi-translucent with milk white colour. Being kept properly and set aside to ferment for 44 days or more, the Nipah water will ripen into Nipah vinegar, which is said to have medical efficacy and helps in treatment of the digestive system, as well as kidney stones. Nipah water is popular among the Malay community, especially in the region of Kedah, Kelantan, and Terengganu.

The fit and agile Halim is 67 years old, he plants Attap trees all around his humble abode in Bagan Pasir, a small fishing village in Tanjung Karang. Seven years ago, he got his father to show him how to extract Nipah water, brought the technique from his hometown in Perak to his own property, and started a small business of selling Nipah water. From cultivating Attap plants with the utmost care, to the maturity of the fruits, and extracting the liquid from the flower cluster of the plant, all these processes require his attentiveness and skills. For instance, the flower cluster needs to be taken extensive care of and be massaged for one month, so that it may yield more liquid.

Planting and extracting Nipah water is a challenging task. The only species of palm adapted to the mangrove biome, Attap palms grow in humid swamp areas. Besides constantly immersing both feet in the muddy swamp waters, he also need to take precaution against insect infestation and animals sabotage. Nipah water needs to be collected from the flower cluster daily, as it is unsuitable to be left in ambient temperature for long. It needs to be promptly chilled to prevent fermentation and preserve freshness. On the other hand, changes in the weather will directly impact the harvest.

There are various values and usage of the Attap plant. In old times, humans found out to use Attap leaves as material for roofs, and to weave handicraft such as baskets. The Attap fruit grows in bunches of dozens, its semi-translucent flesh sweet and tender. It can be consumed raw, made into beverages, or added into shaved ice to add some texture. Due to the complicated steps in the production of Nipah water, the need to adhere to a strict timeline, and prone to deteriorate after extracting therefore must be consumed freshly, it is disadvantaged and has limited potential for commercialization. Even so, it illustrates the wise ways humans employ natural resources.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Drone : Daniel Lim
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : If You Close Your Eyes I’m Still With You

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

Glutinous rice, sugar, bamboo tubes, banana leaves, firewood, rack stove, big pot, and a small knife to be hung on the pot’s lid, combined with a marathon-like 24-hour non-stop steaming and stirring. The glutinous rice liquid caramelise from white to to golden in colour, and thicken into a paste; the craft passed on from elders to youngsters, cultural customs and traditions being inherited from one generation to another, all of that happens at the conventional Hakka Chinese New Year rice cake making project in the village of Kuala Kubu Bharu.

The project is actively joined by villagers of all ages, cooperating with each other, following the traditional ways of making rice cake, and also sustaining the cultural rituals. The elders teach devotedly, and the youngsters learn modestly. In the process, the two generations get to interact with each other, which is a seldom occasion. The round (cylindrical) shape of the rice cake symbolises reunion, whereas the sweet and sticky mouthfeel of the rice cake is likened to expectations of the upcoming year: living a sweet life for the entire year, and a firm relationship between the family members.

Even though the process of making the traditional steamed rice cake is complicated, the younger generation never cease to explore and learn under the guidance of the elders, until they master the skills to make rice cakes independently. It is indeed an excellent opportunity, especially for those who regularly work outstation, to gather with their family and friends, and make rice cakes together.

The procedures of making rice cakes require 24 hours of continual commitment, from lifting the pot lid to stir to ensure even heating of the glutinous rice liquid, the youngsters also need to stay up throughout the night to take care of the stove, battling high heat and fatigue, until the next day when the mass is transferred to their bamboo tube containers lined with banana leaves. Preparation of the equipment and ingredients started a week beforehand. From washing, soaking, press dry, and compressing the glutinous rice, to collecting and processing bamboo tubes and banana leaves. Interestingly, the firewood used in making rice cakes were either blown down by wind or abandoned. After collecting, the wood is stored in a shed to ensure dryness.

The rice caking making project of Kuala Kubu Bharu is not practised for decades, but rather an accidental success in 2014 that engaged villagers of all ages to participate in the event. The scene where both old and young generations join forces to make rice cakes illustrates the fine culture legacy, embracing their heritage.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : Lovely Candies from Felt Music

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

The outmoded layout of the shop, with classical glass displays on either side, coral colours contrasting the white walls, highlighting the shop’s vintage appearance. Apart from two coral red shutters, there were no conventional doors, exposing full view of the shop’s unsophiscated style. Freshly out of the oven, the kaya puffs emit wafts of aroma. For donkey’s years, relentlessly making fresh kaya puffs in-house from scratch on a daily basis, with no additional preservatives, this is what makes Teng Wun Bakery and Confectionery popular with locals and a must-try for tourists.

Forty years ago (in 1979), Hoo Jee Suan and his wife leased the shop lot and partitioned the shop front into two: on the right is a female salon managed by Mrs Hoo, whereas on the left Mr Hoo bakes pastries and cakes to sell. Husband and wife worked hard together to make a living, as life is not easy back then. In the early days of the startup, he only baked cakes and bread. The favourable kaya puffs was afterwards learned from his father-in-law who runs a Hainanese coffee shop, as a result of several improvisations, the current version of crispy and fragrant kaya puff was introduced.

In the small town of Kuala Kubu Bharu where Hakkanese made up the majority, Mr Hoo was a true-bred Hainanese who migrated southwards to Malaya when he was 12 years old, and adopted his foster family’s surname “Hoo” instead of his birth family name “Yun”. Mr Hoo was born in Kuala Selangor, but spent most of his childhood years in Hainan, China. When the liberation war broke out on Hainan Island, civilants fell into poverty, rice and cassava were their only food. As the health of Mr Hoo’s birth parents deteriorated, they entrusted his elder sister who got married in Malaysia to bring him out of Hainan Island. That was in the second year of Malaysia’s gaining independence.

Under his sister’s arrangements, Mr Hoo embarked on a vessel setting sail to Malaysia. It was perilous to travel by sea in those days, as it took about one week to disembark at Singapore, and continue the journey northwards to Kuala Kubu Bharu. Having endured hardships, he understood that survival is undoubtedly difficult, the only way to face the ups and downs of life is by being practical and self-sufficient.

The meaning behind the brand “the rising sun a scarlet spot among the clouds” not only illustrates the beauty of dawn, it also aptly describes Mr Hoo and his past 73 years.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Evon Pang
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : Tenderness from Bensound

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

Wafts of salty prawn odour are sent along with the ocean breeze. On the wooden platform just in front of the house, plain brown belacan are spread out neatly to be sun dried, some already pressed into bricks, some minced and unprocessed. This family-run belacan factory is operated by the second generation successor, Mr Kee Bok Wah (transliteration) and his family, being one out of the two belacan factories in Bagan Parit Baru which is sparsely populated by only 300 people.

Similar to other fishing villages, Mr Kee’s house is built along the estuary, the river flowing towards the sea, easing the passage of small fishing boats. Building a wooden platform as well as a small harbour in front of the house is convenient for their own fishing boat to unload fresh fish and prawns, also enabling immediate sorting and handling. At the same time, Mr Kee built a small scale factory opposite his house with a larger surface area, mainly for marinating and fermenting procedures. 

Belacan is made up of small prawns (Acete Chinensis) and salt, after mixing, marination, and sun drying, belacan is loaded into casks for a month-long fermentation to absorb flavours. Afterwards, processing is carried out according to different demands, and frequent sun drying, then only packaged. The entire process takes months, having complicated procedures, the quality and quantity easily affected by factors such as weather, season, saltiness of the water etc.

Even though manufacturing belacan may be a tough task, the Kee family continue to use the traditional way of manufacturing. Under the cooperation of the whole family, Mr Kee’s children also adhere to their duties, inheriting the family business, maintaining the legacy. 

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Drone : Daniel Lim
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : Cliffsides

COPYRIGHTS 2019 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

After dark, the surroundings of Lukut Sri Parit village is veiled by serenity, however the See (transliteration) father and son are busying themselves at the rear of their old family house. Hanging on stainless steel racks are processed and marinated whole pigs as well as slices of cut raw pork, ready for firing in the kiln. Kenny and his three siblings are the third generation heirs to Heng Kee roast pork stall, growing up in a family of roastery, they are familiar with every single procedure from handling raw meat to taking the roasted pork straight out the kiln. Among all, the greatest challenge lies in the technique of using a traditional kiln.

The See (transliteration) family’s traditional kiln roasting technique started from Kenny’s grandfather, lasting for well over half a century till the third generation at present. They are also among the handful who persist in the ancestral practice of using rubber tree trunks as firewood to roast the pork over low heat. The process of roasting pork over a traditional kiln is a test to the skills, especially exercising control over the temperature, how to ensure the pork is roasted evenly and not burnt, at the same time preserving the juiciness of the meat as well as the crispiness of the skin. Both father and son showcase their years of experience through the practice of solid skills, using bare hands, observation, torchlight, and metal shreds to determine and control the heat, and to which extent is the pork roasted.

As the third generation inheritance of the family business, Kenny and his brothers who all graduated from university are reluctant to see the extinction of their ancestral trade. As a token of appreciation towards their family for the hard work in raising them, they decided to take up the family business, as well as expanding it. Apart from continually operating a roast pork stall inside Lukut wet market, they also set up a retail store in the commercial area selling roast pork and mixed roast items such as barbecued pork and roast duck, steadily refusing to compromise on quality, all items homemade. Kenny hopes to organize the traditional kiln roasting technique into a more systematic way, transforming the family business into a corporate.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Production Assistant : Michael Lerk
Music : A Good Feeling from Felt Music

COPYRIGHTS 2018 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD

In the courtyard, hanging fully on numerous wooden frames are strands of fine yarn-like mee sua, the scene comprising of thread curtain layers looking splendid and spectacular. Sitiawan is known as mini Fú Zhōu due to local inhabitants mainly originating from Fú Zhōu, China. In addition, mee sua is one of the most sentimental traditional Fú Zhōu foods, no matter during relatives and friends visit, or during celebrations and festivals, when a bowl of mee sua is served, not only taste is consumed, but also a wish for safety, happiness, and longetivity.

As times progress, the production of mee sua gradually converted into semi or fully motorised, eventually a bowl of genuine handmade Fú Zhōu mee sua became a rare indulgence. Mr Ding Hock Gong is one of the incredibly few masters who persists in the laborious craft of purely handmade mee sua.

Observing the 66-year-old Mr Ding carrying five clusters of noodles hanging on bamboo chopsticks in one go, firstly he inserts one end into the matching hole on the wooden rack, with his wife lending a hand in steadying the chopsticks; the other end is hooked in between his fingers, his body reclining backwards, by pulling strongly, the noodles will stretch into long fine strands, up to 5-6 metres in length. The seemingly simple action needs to be carried out smoothly to ensure good viscosity and mouthfeel of the mee sua, and could not be mastered within a short timeframe. The force employed in pulling not only needs to be powerful but also spread evenly, a bit lesser it fails, a bit more it breaks.

Nevertheless this is merely one out of almost ten procedures in producing handmade mee sua, other procedures include kneading the dough, twisting into strands, flouring the strands, hanging the strands onto bamboo chopsticks, stretching the noodles, and a few sequences of fermentation then proofing etc. The process is extremely time-consuming, being busy since before dawn breaks until the late afternoon, and could be said as an ingenious artisanal unique craft.

Mr Ding’s mastery in this craft is apprenticed to his father who migrated southwards from China to Malaysia. He grudgingly feels pity for the craft being almost extinct, however he respects that his children did not wish to succeed this laborious industry. Nevertheless Mr and Mrs Ding still enjoy the production of handmade mee sua in their courtyard, indicating that it is one of the ways to exercise, living a relaxed life in this rustic village.

Text: Daniel Lim & Pua Hui Wen

有你 UNI Production
Producer : Mok Yii Chek
Coordinator : Daniel Lim
Cinematographer : Amelia Lim / Evon Pang
Video Editor : Amelia Lim
Music : Breakfast In Bed from Felt Music

COPYRIGHTS 2018 ECHINOIDEA SDN BHD