Assam Pedas & the Art Of Faithful Spousal Relations

There was a particular point in my life when I had an almost morbid fascination with the Straits cuisine item known affectionately around the Malay Archipelago as "assam pedas".

"Assam who?" you may ask quizzically with one eyebrow raised high, WAAAY higher than the other to a level that you look more like The Retard than The Rock. For the benefit of my global readers who may not be in the region here's a definition of what "assam pedas" is. Actually I know only 3 people read this blog but anyway:

Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire was about assam pedas. Really.

From Wikipedia: "Asam Pedas (Indonesian: Asam Pedas, Malay: Asam Pedas, Minangkabau: Asam Padeh, English: Sour and Spicy) is a Minangkabau and Malay sour and spicy stew dish popular in Indonesia and Malaysia. The main ingredients (usually seafood or freshwater fish) are cooked in asam (tamarind) fruit juice with chilli and many other spices. The cooking process involves soaking the pulp of the tamarind fruit until it is soft and then squeezing out the juice for cooking the fish. Asam paste may be substituted for convenience. Various vegetables such as terong or brinjals (Indian eggplants), okra and tomatoes are added. Fish and seafood (such as mackerel, red snapper, tuna, gourami, pangasius or cuttlefish) either whole or only heads are added to make a spicy and tart fish stew. It is important that the fish remain intact for serving so generally the fish is added last."

I noticed a supernatural alchemy about the way the flavours complimented and contrasted each other in the raging maelstrom of the fiercely-coloured gravy- the supple flesh of fresh seafood caressed lovingly by lashes of fragrant lemongrass, drowning blissfully in a raging red sea of tamarind, chillies, shallots and what-nots.

What more if hot fluffy basmati rice is drenched in the lascivious liquid and flanked by an omelette or (better still) deep fried poultry and what you get is truly a privilege & luxury that should only be bestowed upon those willing or desperate enough to give an arm & a leg (or dismember someone else's arm/leg) to have fleeting glimpse of what The Promised Garden might feel like. 

Or not. I'm pretty sure there're better things than assam pedas to fuck around with in heaven.

But I had an Epiphany of (almost) Divine-like proportion:

Food that tastes good when it's hot is normal; business as usual. But if it still tastes good when it's cold, IT'S MAGIC.

I leave you to come up with your own post-Freudian and Jungian theories and assumptions with regards to that last statement.

Anyway, this period lasted for nearly 3 months when I had it EVERYDAY without fail. Unnatural? Perhaps. Unhealthy? Maybe. But every single time I tasted it on my tongue there was a smile on my face.

It helped that I could have it at work for lunch and/or dinner; now that's 5 days a week. The rest of the time I would actually travel fairly long distances to consume it. If I couldn't find it then I would actually cook some.

Unlike a friend of mine who has taken the easy way out and weaseled his way into his neighbour's pants kitchen by pretending that his gas stove is spoilt so there's nothing to eat. Al Sayf, you suck. >:(

Maybe he should have taken some inspiration from this old ad I found.

Wives: The problem to all your answers?

Just kidding dude. Actually my friend's wife is a pretty good cook and to my knowledge an all-round awesome wife. Someday I too wish for the same kind of happiness. Or not. But back to the story. A girl friend of mine asked me recently how I could "tolerate having the same god-damned thing everyday and not get sick of it".

My reply came without thinking, "The same way you tolerate your god-damned boyfriend."

*poker face* Touché!