Category Archives: Food

Apart from a couple of trips to George Town, we’ve been spending most of our time eating at local food hawkers. Hawker centers are a culinary Disney Land offering Chinese, Malay, Indian, ‘Western’ dishes, desserts, fresh juices and coffees and teas. The closest we have in New York City are street fares and Smorgasburg. New York Department of Health regulations, however, limit the breadth, and possibly creativity, of the offerings. The hawker centers in Penang are overseen by local authorities, but standards are definitely more lax than in New York. That said, even as Kayan licks tables that dozens have eaten off that night alone, no one in the Luke family has gotten sick.

I must be an annoying customer for hawkers. They have an efficient process of churning out their signature dish within the confines of a tiny space, often amidst multiple fires and boiling pots. There I am with my clunky camera, peering over the steam and barraging them with non-stop questions. “What is that ingredient?” “Can I come closer?” “Huh? What does that mean?”

Yet what I’ve found is that hawkers are excited to share their skills. Many hawkers have had their establishments passed on from prior generations, but don’t expect their more educated children to assume the trade.  They seem honored that someone is interested in how they prepare their dishes.

Hawker proliferation is so high that in addition to the established hawker fare, some more intrepid hawkers make twists on traditional dishes to lure customers. We met one such hawker last night who makes a spin of roti canai (flaky wheat bread) by wrapping it around a masala omelet.

Another hawker is taking fries to new heights, unraveling a single potato into one long spiral, served fried and sprinkled with a sour salty chilli powder.

Traditional satays are served everywhere, but heat-your-own-skewer and choose-your-own-sauce are the draw for this friendly hawker in George Town.

The closest relationship we have formed is with Tony, the dessert hawker at our local Mutiera Selera hawker court in Tanjung Bungah. Tony specializes in two Penang desserts, Ais Kacang and Cendol. Every hawker has their own versions of these desserts, but a mound of shaved ice is always the base. Ais Kacang is served with a variety of fruits, flavored jellies and syrups. Ice cream is an optional topping, although Ava considers it a must and Kayan happily agrees.

Cendol has a base of sweet red beans, Tony tops it with a palm syrup and sweetened coconut milk with green bean glass jelly noodles. Ice cream is generally not added, but Ava insists and Tony obliges.

Tony sees us coming and gets things ready. He knows I’m about to start furiously snapping pictures and the kids will be jumping up and down waiting for the ice cream scoop.

We order cendol. First step is a layer of sweetened red beans.

Tony then expertly hand grinds the ice into the bowl.

He swirls the palm syrup on top.

And ladles a scoop of the coconut milk and green jelly noodles.

At this point Ava says “Where’s the ice cream?” and Tony beautifully finishes off the dish with a scoop of vanilla. With the sweet toothless of the red beans, cool ice, firm jelly and smooth coconut milk, the ice cream is definitely superfluous. But oh so good!

A complete Cendol recipe can be found here.

Although hawkers throughout Penang have been very obliging of my curiosity, I suggest visiting hawkers away from the tourist centers of George Town and Batu Ferrangi if you want to spend time with them. Things a quieter (relatively speaking) and just one repeat trip to our local hawker center was enough to make us feel like locals. This makes the food all the more enjoyable when we finally dig in.

We spent serious money in New York sending Ava and Kayan to creative classes, such as music and art. Prior to the trip, Ava was in preschool at the oldest community music school in the U.S.  We thought all of this would give her some appreciation for the arts, but she often seemed bored or distracted. Perhaps this is usual toddler behavior, but nonetheless, we were pretty surprised when an evening outing in Penang had her singing for a group of strangers and earned us some beer and treats.

In just a week, we’ve seen so many faces of Penang. From vibrant hawker markets to quiet beaches, and a patchwork of preserved monuments echoing European, Chinese, Indian and Arabian histories. It is this patchwork that earns George Town, the island’s capital, UNESCO World Heritage Site status. One such slice of history is the Chew Clan Jetty. In the mid nineteenth century, several clans from Chinese provinces established stilted houses on jetties, each of which was named after its clan. The original immigrants of the Chew Clan were from the Fujian province of China. Today, the jetty’s 75 residences still have families that are related to each other. The jetty retains much of it’s original structure, even as modern George Town grows around. This is likely why we saw a few donation boxes to raise funds to improving the foundation.

Little boats anchored along the jetty serve to shuttle goods between larger boats in the harbor.

I am very conscious of voyeuristic tourism and as we entered the jetty I felt as if we were encroching on private property. The houses are built facing each other with a planked wooden walkway no more than a couple of meters wide between.

Despite my hesitancy, every resident had a jubilant ‘Hello!’ for us. Happiness here seems to be spread all around.

Like most Penang establishments, and despite the strong Chinese heritage of the jetty, the convenience store proudly caters to call ethnic backgrounds.

A group of three elderly men drinking Tiger beer outside a house erupted in cheers of “Merry Christmas!” when they saw us. Ava was most excited about this, as she sings jingle bells all year long and finally had an audience. Ava has shed any shyness she used to have before we started this trip. So she grabbed Kayan’s hand and belted out her full rendition of jingle bells, with a loud and proud “HEY!” at the end of the chorus.

This, of course, put the three men in an even merrier state. One invited us to join for beer, while another rushed into the store across the jetty to buy the kids some treats.

While I am sure the residents of the jetty are welcoming people, the kids were the catalyst for enabling us to have a conversation and be invited into their homes.

Stepping into the jetty off the streets of George Town is like stepping even further back in history. The pace of life is quieter and slower, and guests who offer entertainment are welcome for a drink. As we left the jetty, we realized we weren’t the only ones singing for our supper in George Town that night.

I thought about taking a cooking class in Penang, but was told the better experience and value was to observe the food hawkers that canvas the city after dark. We had the char koay teow, a Penang fried flat noodle specialty, and fried rice at the stall outside the Chew Jetty entrance at Armenian Street.

Despite the commotion around the stall, the hawker was kind enough to walk me through the fried rice. She completes each order within a span of a minute.It’s a simple recipe once the ingredients are ready, and the shrimp and pork can be substituted with other ingredients (mushroom, tofu, veggies) to conform it to various restrictions.

In a hot work she added about 2 tablespoons oil and a handful of shrimp. After a few seconds she tossed in some diced garlic.

She then tossed in a bowl of white rice. She says the trick is to keep the rice chilled so that it doesn't get soggy.

She added in a small ladle of oyster sauce.

An another ladle of what she called chili. Looked and tasted like Sriracha, but not as spicy. She also tossed in a handful of tiny bits of chopped pork.

Last, she broke a fresh egg and folded in the rice mixture.

The presentation is simple and elegant on a banana leaf.

As usual, our night in Penang didn’t stop at just a few dishes. We went on to have a variety of satays from this select-your-own satay and sauce stand.

And then we walked to Little India for Indian mithai.

Finally we called it quits after a roti stall.

Stuffed in Penang as usual.

The durian fruit – one either loves it or hates it. I didn’t know which camp we fell into so decided to find out.

Durians are a point of pride in Penang. There are more than 50 varieties of the fruit on the island. Connoisseurs liken durian to wine. The age of the tree, the source, the variety, how soon consumption follows falling – they all make a difference to the final product.

A durian stall annouces itself before it’s seen due to its sharp aroma. Sharp is putting it nicely, as I had a gag reflex the first time I got a whiff, thinking I was passing a compost pile. Many buildings in Thailand the Malaysia, where the fruit is revered, don’t even allow it.

Things did’t get too much more inviting when I finally saw the durian. The outside shell is a warning of spikes.

I decided to brave the smell and shell, and purchase a fruit. This gentlemen, like most durian sellers, commits himself only to this fruit. The fruit stall a few feet away offers a choice of tropical fruits but no durian. At this point I’m thinking the reason is that the smell alone is enough to contaminate the mangos, mangosteens, and rambutans.

I’m still trying not to be judgmental and admire the skill with which the seller plies open the spiky shell and pops orange segments of fruit out of their white protective coating.

Thank goodness I was spared doing that myself. A plate of durians looks almost as unappetizing as it smells.

Back at our place, we left the package on the terrace. If they’re not allowed in Malaysian restaurants and hotels, I didn’t see the need to invite them into our apartment. Apparently, the longer you wait after the fruit falls, the stinkier things get. Could things really get any stinkier?

We went it. The only plus side, to me, was that it tasted somewhat like mango, except a mango that is about a month overripe, and possibly mixed with some decaying matter. It is slimy in a way I would imagine moss to feel going down my throat. At first Ava flat out refused to try it. “NO! Yucky smell” But not wanting to miss out on the commotion, she went in for a bite. Here are some befores and afters. Despite Kayan’s trepidation over the smell, both he and Sandeep were in the love it camp.

After the durian tasting, we bagged the leftovers (I’m suspicious about Kayan and Sandeep’s fondness given the amount of leftovers) in three plastic bags and tossed them in the garbage. Two hours later, things got stinkier. The smell wafted out of the bags, through the closed garbage can and out of the kitchen cabinet. Even Sandeep agreed it was time to take desperate measures. We tied the package in a fourth bag and wandered the streets of Penang at midnight until we found a garbage bin.

The durian is so esteemed in Penang that there are fares around the fruit, contests for best in class, and banquets featuring the fruit cooked in every imaginable form. Jimmy Choo, designer and Penangite, claims “Dangerously difficult to open, with its impossibly pungent taste, the durian is nature’s bizarre gift to our region and we love it.”

We’re all glad we gave the fruit a valiant effort. We want to get out of our comfort zones on our travels, and the durian certainly helped achieve that mission.