Kenduri

Early in the morning last December 24th we were, like many around the world, anticipating a feast. But this was to be no dinner or turkey or roast beef or roast lamb or ham. We'd been invited to village about an hour from Kuala Lumpur to  watch the preparations for a kenduri (Malaysian for 'ceremony' or 'celebration').

This particular kenduri was to mark the engagement of my Malaysian teacher's sister. All kenduri involve protocol - there are must-do's and must-don'ts; dress should be appropriate, and ritual respected. But this is Malaysia, a country where food is never an afterthought. So, as the betrothed-to-be prepared herself for the afternoon's events, assorted relatives and neighbors cooked up an amazing meal for the guests.

We arrived early to find M's grandmother sweeping the courtyard and his father on a ladder plucking rambutan from one of the many fruit trees that shade the house. Cats lazed about here and there in the early morning sun. Preparations had already begun at the bangsal, an outdoor raised and covered platform that's usually used for lounging but that can be called into kitchen use when the weather is fine and extra space is needed.

M's family expected 100 or so guests for lunch, so caterers were called in - a few village ladies, reknowned for their culinary skills, who have experiece cooking for crowds. They arrived with huge pots of half-cooked curry sauces that would be finished off in the one-room hut opposite the house that serves as a second kitchen.

These ladies may have been asked in to do a job, but when it came to cooking, everyone - M's sisters and mother included - deferred to Aunty, a sturdy and smiling 69-year-old relative who'd been driven in from Kelantan state for the occasion. After chopping carrots and longbeans at the bangsal she moved to the power position in the cooking hut - a low stool within easy reach of ingredients and a couple of portable gas burners - and, with the village caterers, set to finishing the meal.

Mul bari is a sort of curry made, on this day, with chicken. Aunty started by heating the brick-red sauce, made with loads of dried chilies, onions, shallots, and ginger, and then added chicken pieces that had been marinated in serbok kuzi - a mixture of garlic, ginger, and condensed milk - and then deep-fried. The pan holding the curry sauce was large, but the amount of chicken to be cooked larger, so Aunty added the bird in batches, leaving each to simmer in the sauce for a half an hour or so before removing it to make room for more.

Once all of the chicken was cooked and removed from the pan, in went chunks of red onion and long red chilies, halved. After they'd simmered and softened for another thirty or minutes or so Aunty added the chicken back in and finished the dish with a flurry of curry leaves. This spicy, fragrant dish with its textured sauce was our favorite of the meal.

Dalca, a dish of vegetables and protein (beef stomach, in this case) is a Malay dish with Indian influences - the sauces incorporates dal, an Indian pulse.

Dalca includes plenty of chilies as well, though the heat is softened by coconut milk.

Long beans, globe eggplant, and potato round out this Malay-Indian stew.

Most of the residents of M's village trace their ancestry to Bengkulu, a coastal town in southern Sumatra (M's family hails from peninsular Malaysia's east coast). Bengkulus were brought to this part of Malaysia in the latter part of the 19th century to work on rubber palm plantations as tappers.

This tahu masak kicap (tofu cooked with soy sauce), a dish of deep-fried tofu and fresh green chilies in a rich coconut milk sauce, is part of the Bengkulu culinary repertoire. It includes both regular and Indonesian sweet (kecap manis) soy sauces.

The ginger-fragrant dish was a perfect sweet-salty addition to a menu otherwise dominated by spicy foods.

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While Aunty and two of the village caterers saw to curries in the hut, and M's mother and sister continued to wash and prep vegetables outside,

the other caterer prepared nasi minyak ('oil' rice) for one hundred, in two batches. Each started with a heart-stopping amount of butter and ghee, melted in an oversized rice cooker.

Once she had melted the oils and allowed them to bubble a bit the caterer threw in dried spices - whole cloves, cardamom pods, and cinammon sticks - and chopped garlic and ginger, and stirred the lot with a wooden paddle large enough to be a boat oar. Seven and a half kilos of rice followed, then water, and then the lot was left to steam.

Halfway through the cook removed the lid, flattened the rice with her paddle, and pressed a banana leaf on top. After more steaming, she mixed in golden and black raisins. Fifteen or so minutes later she dished up perfectly cooked (each grain distinct), fragrant rice to accompany the meal.

No kenduri is complete without pulut kuning (yellow rice), rice that has been soaked with turmeric for two hours, drained, and then steamed with coconut milk. The finished dish is a bit al dente, like a risotto, and delicious, though much too rich to be eaten in quantity if other dishes are on offer.

Around 12:30, after four and a half hours of chopping and washing and boiling and simmering and steaming, the caterers and their helpers, along with M and his guests, gathered on the bangsal for lunch. Guests were to arrive at 2 but we were all much too hungry to wait.

Along with the rices, and the dalca, chicken, and tofu, there was a rich beef rendang, a chile-hot and belacan-fishy sambal, and a wonderfully refreshing acar (a sort of pickle/salad) of red onion, fresh red chilies, garlic, tomatoes, pineapple, shredded carrot, and cucumber in a sweet-sour-salty white vinegar-based dressing.

We ate until we could eat no more, and then went inside with M to see the hantaran, or gifts that the bride-to-be's family had prepared for the groom's family, who were driving in from Terengganu (it's a Malay tradition for the families to exchange gifts at the beginning of the engagement celebration). Among kuih (sweets) and textiles was this beautiful old tepak seri, or betel set. The lidded containers are meant to contain ingredients to wrap with the nut in its leaf, before it's popped in the mouth.

Just as we were about to leave, grandma emerged from the house in her kenduri finery. We weren't able to stay for the engagement ceremony itself because we'd been invited to a tradition of an entirely different sort. Our neighbors were holding a Christmas Eve open house.

Thanks to M and his family for so warmly welcoming us into their home.

Comments

[graceshu]

wow: Kenduri_aunty_from_above

[graceshu]

ps: opening pic also very wow.

[Cynthia]

Another great, educative and colourful post. Thanks.

[E]

Great description. Haven't been to kenduri for years and years. the dalca looks fabulous. Gotta get myself invited to a wedding when i get back

[Catherine]

Your descriptions are always evocative, but the mal buri is one dish that's making me wish I lived in KL.

As for that ginormous pot of rice, sheesh -- I can't even get two cups to cook properly! I'm jealous.

[joy]

Stunning colors and mouth watering foods. I'm sweating just looking at those chilies.

[MeltingWok]

did you skip the dowry protocol hehe, anyway, great pix and descriptions :) love tt spicy chicken dish, reminds me of some ayam masak merah+madu, sweeet !! :)

[Sven]

Thanks. Very informative insight.

[The Guilty Carnivore]

Wow, everything looks so amazing and delicious. Thank you.

[phiz]

I'm looking at this and my mouth is literally watering, and I'm humbled at how wholeheartedly you are embracing the whole Malaysian experience.

[mary shaposhnik]

Thanks for transporting me from the office desk to a Malaysian family celebration for a few minutes. I can tell it was very interesting to watch the community/family dynamics at work. There is just so much amazing culinary skill out there--like Aunty who can cook and coordinate for 100--that most of us never get to experience. What an honor to be part of it. Thanks for sharing it with us.

It's off topic, but what kind of textiles did people exchange?

[Robyn]

Thanks all! It was great fun (and very, very delicious - among the best Malay food we've had since moving to Malaysia).

Phiz - as for embracing the Malaysian experience ... well, you know, it's tough job but somebody's got to do it!

Mary - perhaps I should have said 'cloth items' rather than textiles ... it was new sheets and towels, stuff like that. No gorgeous textiles of the type that you're probably imagining. Are you a collector? We have got a whole cabinetfull of bits and pieces we've collected over the years on our travels. The textile bug bit in Lao way back when ....

[Rasa Malaysia]

The dry chicken curry dish looks absolutely delish, however the name Mul Bari doesn't sound like Malay, or shall I shall, I don't recognize the two words!

Anyway, it was more than 10 years ago when I had my last kenduri meal--a wedding. I have never had such great Malay food, well, except at Samudra at Pangkor Laut. But, it's different when you compare home-cooked foods to a restaurant's.

Not sure if you are back to Malaysia, but I hope you have had a great trip to the US. :)

[mary shaposhnik]

Well, useful textiles are still textiles... I love hearing this. A lot of the Tai Lu textiles in Nan were household items. It reminds me of my Polish great-grandma, who died when I was 12, carefully embroidering pillow cases and a tablecloth for my "hope chest." I started using them when I gave up hope.

Anyway, yes, I am a very amateur textile collector, meaning I don't make a business of it and don't want to be too obsessive, but I do seek them out pretty actively, have a lot on my walls and a bigger pile I don't know what to do with. Khmer textiles got me smitten, but of course Lao is amazing. For me, it feels similar to my interest in the foods of the places I travel in may ways -- I love that ordinary raw materials that can be strictly utilitarian can also be woven together and combined into intricate, complex works of art; that they involve a wealth of non-verbal education and technical expertise; that, maybe moreso with weaving, it is an area where women can be creative and are recognized for their expertise; that so much time and effort can be expended to create something beautiful and pleasurable; that ethnographically you can see connections and migration patterns (or be fooled into seeing, and need to learn the difference) in what different peoples cook and how they weave; that there is both room and necessity for tradition and innovation, which can provide both powerful momentum and stability. Or maybe that's all bunk. But I think those all have something to do with why I love to watch people cook and weave when I travel, and love the results of both.

[Gourmet]

I love this photos.. The post is very very beaufiful!!
Thanks!

[Ari]

Wow, how did you know about the Bengkulu dish? Have you been to Bengkulu? Man, I'm so jealous. Anyway, the wedding processions of the Malays in my country (particularly in Sumatra)held the importance of "Songket" textile. I thought Malay Malaysians have the same way....

[lee vardeman]

Thank you for sharing this beautiful experience. I wanted to learn what a kenduri is, and your pictures and descriptions gave me a joyful taste of being there. I am grateful for the peek into this lovely culture.