Hakka Mama

A chat with the franchise owner of Palsaik, the new eight colour pork Korean barbecue sensation, revealed that he was Hakka from Sarawak, and that his mother was a whiz at making the quintessential vegetarian dish of lui cha. Mr K swore that his mum's lui cha was so good that he doesn't eat any other variant. He said that he would see when his mother would make it, and invite us over. I thought it was just chatty courtesy, but two days later, he confirmed lunch at his apartment!

Madam K nee Phang is an 84-year-old dynamo. She lived in Singapore for a few years in her girlhood, then returned to Malaya during the second World War. The war effectively kept her from school (but there is not saying she would have been sent even if there had been no war - such were the standards at the time, when girls were not seen worthy enough to have money spent on their education). She speaks no English, just Hakka and a more Penang-phrased Hokkien. Her food, however, transcends languages.

She put on a lovely (and loving) spread for her son's guests. Food included the much-spoken of lui cha, as well as fried chicken wings and Hakka tofu.

Some of the items which go into lui cha (except for the tofu).

Nearly any long stemmed green Asian vegetable can be used in lui cha.

Beans add texture and crunch.

Pickled daikon (chye poh) adds salt and a bit of chewiness.

If you're lucky, sayur manis (literally meaning 'sweet vegetable) is also part of the mix.

Fried ikan bilis lend the brittle mouthfeel and crunch factor.

The soup is what makes this dish. Traditionally it is a mix of seven to eight herbs.

The Hakkas (also known as Kheks), are Malaysia's sixth largest ethnic Chinese group. They came to Malaya in the 18th and 19th centuries as tin miners and farmers. As labourers, they were paid little and worked long hours. Their meals had to be sustaining as well as cheap. As such, plain white steamed rice makes up the basis of lui cha. Any vegetable that they could grown in their little home plots were used to add bulk. And the herbs which make up the soup were probably chosen for their medicinal and strengthening properties. Generally bitter, the salted, preserved vegetables and fish made the soup more palatable when mixed together. Lui cha (also known as lei cha) is eaten as one dish, with the rice mixed with all the vegetables and soup poured on top. Traditionalists do not drown the mix in soup, but this is more a preference thing, rather than a rule of eating.

A big, green mess, is what a bowl of lui cha looks like.

Madam K says the real lui cha soup is made by first frying all the herbs in a small amount of oil to bring out their properties. Once fried, the mixture is left to air dry and cool before it is poured into the blender with some peanuts, to be whizzed into a thick mash. No sugar or salt is added. This mixture can be frozen for up to six months and reconstituted with warm water to make the soup.

These are the herbs which make up the soup mix:

A mint variant, possibly? It had the same fragrance.

Thai basil was the only easily identified herb.

 The rest I can only guess at! I'm working on it, though.

Saw toothed coriander.

I thought this might be a kind of perilla or shiso leaf?

Just in case we needed some meat in our diets, Madam K pressed us to try her authentic Hakka yong tofu (beancurd stuffed with pork).

Traditional home cooked food is never photogenic, but it is tasty!

Chicken wings with a twist.

I don't know where she got her chicken wings, but they were large and meaty. Sizzling hot from the wok, they were sinfully crunchy and moist. However, it was the pronounced citrus flavour that made me curious. I was told that Madam K added Eno, the re-hydration salts used for indigestion into her fry mixture as she believes it cuts down the chance of sore throat from the frying!