Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Sambal Tumis

A recipe, I am proud to say, not self-developed, not off some cookbook I ordered from Amazon.com.

This is something of a family heritage. An extended family that, on the night of Christmas eve, after splitting up to attend our chosen Midnight/evening masses - the Lengs and the Boeys go to the Immaculate Conception, Pulau Tikus one that starts at nine, the Boudvilles attend the Cathedral mass that starts at ten, grandma stays in her house and waits for everyone to arrive - gather at Grandma's place to exhange presents, and eat turkey until two in the morning. The celebration before the celebration. Or, come to think of it, the celebration.

The family that orders, in the only way it knows (the Malaysian way perhaps?), orders a magnificient spread of Malay curries, augmented with Chap Chye (Peranakan stir-fried turnip), lor bak, soy milk jellies, Chinese pork leg-beancurd stick-dried scallops soup, replete with sugee cake, pineapple tarts and whatever chocolate confection I experiment with for a joyous Christmas luncheon.

The family that eats its prized purchase, the-getting-more-expensive-each-year Christmas turkey, with Gardenia bread, mashed potatoes made by Auntie Flo and THIS heavenly concoction.

Eating this brings me back to my childhood, to days growing up in my grandmother's house listening to the blender whirl, to each new Indonesian maid learning it anew, to an even older time when we took turns bashing my grandfather's pestle and mortar.

You might not believe me when I say all that, but as far back as I can remember someone making this, whether with prawns or petai, in my grandmother's house.

I don't know what took me so long to make this. Oh, maybe it was because I waited till I had the opportunity to buy belachan, pungent shrimp paste, from Bintulu (which is apparently famous for it). Or maybe it's just intimidating to try it - after all, my concoction would have a whole childhood of tasting to live up to. And I have to say, after all the Nasi Lemaks I've eaten, none come close to the one my mother/aunt/grandmother/maid (who learnt it from them) made.

Anyway, shrimp paste from Bintulu comes in cute dried coconut leaf packaging like these.



One weekend, I did try it. It was easier than I imagined, and better than I expected - especially the next day onwards, when the flavours had developed and melded together.

Recipe, courtesy of my fabulous mum. Feel free to double or triple the quantities as you wish -

Three handfuls dried chillies
One handful fresh chillies
About one teaspoon-sized piece of tamarind (I actually used tamarind paste - a shortcut)
One inch-squared sized piece of belachan (shrimp paste)
One cup shallots, or two large onions
A little sugar (palm or brown)\
A neutral oil
Raw Prawns - peeled, about 600 grams (optional, it tastes just as good as a condiment by itself)

Soak the dried chillies in hot water to soften, then remove the seeds and inner membranes. Soak the tamarind in a little water, and, separately, add about three tablespoonfuls of hot water to the belachan and mix with a fork to dilute. Peel the shallots, and place them in the blender/food processer with the chillies. Add a little of the shrimp paste water (not all), and a little more water to enable all the ingredients to blend properly.

Heat a heavy pan with enough oil to cover its base. Pour in the chilli-shallot mixture and let it bubble up and thicken. Add about a teaspoon of sugar and the rest of the belachan liquid. Add the tamarind water, a little of the time, to taste. Cook until most of the water evaporates.

If using, add the prawns last and simmer till they're cooked.

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