Gastronomy and I: Laksa Sarawak Essay (2024)

Gold Prize Winner in Gastronomy and I: Laksa Sarawak 2024

Written by Jasmine Tan

Published in Dayakdaily Sarawak E-News https://dayakdaily.com/gastronomy-and-i-my-favourite-dish-gold-winner-adult-jasmine-tan-sze-min/#google_vignette

Photo by Amanda Lim, Unsplash

“Aunty, a large bowl of Laksa, please!”

White, translucent sheets of hot steam billowed across the kopitiam, woven by the tireless

hawkers serving their customers. Pots clanged, water sloshed over oily plates by the sink and

cooking utensils scratched against the sizzling wok. It was a familiar, mundane symphony all

Sarawakians knew in their bones. Aunty’s hands were deft as she boiled the rice vermicelli and cooked the omelette simultaneously. Within ten minutes, the aroma of Aunty’s Laksa Sarawak greeted my nose, enrapturing me with the promise of a warm, full belly.

“Aiyuh, a student like you should eat more! Aunty added some extra chicken and egg so you have more energy to work. Eat up!”

Unlike my family, I was not a wordy person when conversing with hawkers. I managed a polite smile and thanked her.

The combination of rich coconut milk, aromatic Laksa paste and newly-harvested lime in the

Laksa soup was the epitome of Sarawak food delight. Aunty had also given me a generous

portion of chopped omelette, bean sprouts, prawns, shredded chicken and a handful of

coriander. Despite Sarawak’s sweltering heat, its variety of savoury elements enticed anyone’s

appetite. As I wolfed down my Laksa, my white shirt became a blank canvas for where the

yellow soup had speckled onto. Within a heartbeat, a distant memory flashed by…

“One day, our children will grow their wings and fly away from home. Sometimes, I wonder if my daughter remembers me.”

Aunty had laughed while saying that to my family, but her eyes spoke of longing and quiet

sorrow when she beheld me. Years had passed, yet there was no news of the daughter’s return.

It hit me then. One day, I would fly away to somewhere bigger to pursue my dreams and I would not see Aunty again. Stirred by the sudden emotions, I gulped down the last of my Laksa and inhaled a breath of courage before striding towards Aunty’s stall.

“Aunty!” I watched her swipe a bead of sweat and turn to me. Her eyes were dark, warm pools of motherly love. How could I not notice that? My heart squeezed at the thought of her lonesome figure by the house, waiting for her daughter’s return. I continued, “I will be off now. Thanks for the wonderful Laksa. Just dropping by to wish you a great day and I hope your business goes well.”

She came around the stall to pat my shoulder firmly and smiled, “Thank you, kid. I know it’s not easy to be young these days. You get busier, but don’t neglect your health, alright? Take good care too.”

To this day, those yellow specks of Laksa soup still clung to my shirt like a second skin. Time

was fleeting, but not my memories of Sarawak. Like those yellow specks, they stayed with me

like an old friend and a needle pointing back to my homeland, forever reminding me of Aunty’s Laksa Sarawak.

(491 words)