COMBINING the joys of food culture with the ambiance of a bookstore might seem unconventional at first glance. However, the more you ponder it, the more it makes perfect sense.
A bookstore's ultimate goal is to foster knowledge and discovery, and food, often considered a universal language, plays a crucial role in this journey.
These thoughts swirl through my mind as I head to Sunda Shelves, a delightful little bookstore tucked away in Damansara Kim. What could be better on a perfect Saturday than combining my two favourite things: books and food?
However, my perfect Saturday hits a snag with a flat tire, making me 15 minutes late. By the time I finally race upstairs to join the food tasting event by Karen's Ethnic Plate, a one-woman initiative that champions Sarawak's diverse food culture, I am eager to catch up and dive into the culinary delights that await.
"Come on in, we're just about to start!" calls out a slim woman with a ponytail, dressed in black. Her welcoming smile eases my anxiety as I quickly find a seat next to her. The room buzzes with anticipation, and I'm ready to embark on a Sarawakian "adventure" that promises far more than its ubiquitous kolo mee and Sarawak laksa.
"Oh, you won't find any of that here today!" remarks the amicable host in black, who introduces herself as Karen Yap. "Here, we celebrate the food of our tribal communities. Using traditional recipes passed down that honour their roots, our menu today is a tribute to the diverse and vibrant food culture of Sarawak's indigenous peoples."
As I take in the spread before me, with plates of vibrant greens and intriguing food items, it brings me back to the time when cooking was much simpler and closely connected to the natural world.
DYING HERITAGE
The lush jungles of Borneo, including Sabah and Sarawak, have always been exciting pantries for those able to recognise what can be eaten and how to prepare it. Indigenous people used to rely solely on these jungles, among the most biodiverse ecosystems in the world, to sustain themselves. But as modernity spread across the island in the past two centuries, many, including Yap, worried that these indigenous culinary practices would die out.
"This intangible heritage is on the brink of being lost," she laments, adding: "As I delve deeper into this journey, I discover that uncovering the backstory, original recipes and traditional cooking methods are increasingly challenging. People no longer cook the way they once did."
She sighs, continuing: "That's a shame because while these ancient recipes were created out of necessity, the food and the way it was cooked, harvested, foraged, hunted and provided for by the rainforest is unrivalled in terms of taste, ingredients, nutrition and medicinal purposes."
The ulam spread before us is remarkable, showcasing a long-standing culinary heritage that has been cherished for centuries. "It's the whole premise of eating what's local and fresh," explains Yap.
Ulam, a practice dating back to our ancestors, involves foraging the forest for vegetation and herbs that are both nutritious and medicinally valuable. Our ancestors relied on their knowledge of local flora to supplement their diet, ensuring they consumed what was seasonally available and beneficial for their health.
"The only difference now," Yap notes, "is the variety available in our forests here compared with the jungles of Borneo." She highlights that while the concept remains the same, the specific plants and herbs differ due to the unique biodiversity of each region.
This regional distinction enriches the culinary landscape, offering a diverse array of flavours and health benefits. ulam raja, pegaga (Asiatic pennywort), mengkudu, pucuk timun tikus, terung bulat, ketumbar Jawa (sawtooth coriander) and pucuk ubi kayu — some of which, can found in Kuching's wet markets — barely scratch the surface, says Yap. Many plants she forages don't have English translations; some don't have names at all.
Her adeptness at identifying these plants stems from her upbringing in the longhouses of Sarawak. From a young age, she accompanied her Iban grandfather into the forests where he imparted the art of foraging for edible plants and vegetation.
"I remember following my aki (grandfather) into the jungle, trailing behind him with the rest of the children. We were only allowed to stay at the edge of the forest," she recalls wistfully. "But that's where we gathered our vegetation, picking bunches of twirling jungle fern or midin. I loved eating that as a child."
The fragrance of the fresh vegetation makes me pause. I'm not usually a fan of raw greens, but when Yap places a bowl of Kelabit sambal belacan in front of me, I'm intrigued.
This sambal belacan stands out from the standard version as it uses only ikan bilis, belacan and chilies, all fried to enhance their aromas and flavours before being pounded. No other aromatics are added.
Naturally, Bintulu belacan is used, which is made from red krill shrimp, or bubuk, known for its sweet and clean flavour profile. The pristine waters of Bintulu also contribute to the unique taste of this belacan.
The pungent and spicy sambal perfectly complements the ulam, making it unexpectedly delightful and easy to eat. Suddenly, my hesitation disappears and I find myself savouring every bite.
MAIN COURSE
In Sarawak, indigenous food culture received its biggest boost in 2021, when the United Nations' cultural protection agency, Unesco, named Kuching one of its several dozen "cities of gastronomy", citing the combination of its biodiversity and indigenous heritage.
Sarawak's cuisine, shaped by over 40 sub-ethnic groups and a rich rainforest ecosystem that supplies native tribes with indigenous ingredients, embodies a blend of culture, legacy and history. This culinary diversity showcases the region's deep-rooted traditions, offering a tantalising array of flavours and cooking techniques.
From the Iban's bamboo-cooked delicacies to the Melanau's sago-based dishes, every tribe, shares Yap, contributes to a culinary mosaic that's as varied as it is flavourful. Exploring the traditional foods of Sarawak provides not only a gastronomic adventure, but also an insightful journey into the customs, stories and histories of its Indigenous peoples.
"Food isn't merely what I showcase," insists the 48-year-old, adding: "My goal is to share the stories that accompany the food. At my dinners, you're not just consuming a meal; you're experiencing a piece of the world these dishes come from. It's about creating a deeper connection and understanding through the flavours and narratives that define their way of life."
As Yap serves up nasi aruk daun ubi, a distinctive Sarawakian "fried" rice prepared with minimal to no oil and featuring the prized highland Bario red rice, she explains: "In Dayak culture, rice holds a sacred place. Sharing rice is rare, but being gifted rice is the highest form of respect, highlighting its deep cultural significance and the reverence we have for this essential crop."
To complement the rice, Yap presents the centrepiece of the feasting platter: manok lulun or pansuh (which refers mainly to the technique of cooking in bamboo) as it's more popularly known. This dish features marinated bite-sized chicken combined with the sharp-tasting tepus shoots (a type of wild ginger) that cuts through the sweeter mashed tapioca and bungkang leaves.
There's so much that Yap offers to the table. The result is a varied choice of dishes, ranging from mild to spicy, incorporating local ingredients with a piquancy that brings a fabulous complexity to the flavours.
DIFFERENT APPROACH
Yap acknowledges that her journey to becoming a cultural activist has been long and winding. "I never intended to become a champion of ethnic cooking," she admits. "I'm very blessed that my biological father is Hakka, my mother is Fuzhou, and my stepfather is Iban. This diverse heritage has given me a wealth of culinary memories to draw from."
Still, it was her childhood in an Iban longhouse that left a profound impression on her. Located deep in the jungle, more than two hours from Marudi, one of Sarawak's oldest towns, she recalls bathing in the river and foraging for food with her grandfather.
"I truly miss those days," she reflects softly, adding: "My work today is deeply rooted in those formative experiences."
In those years, life was simple without electricity or refrigerators. She remembers a single television that only came to life when the generator hummed to life at dusk. "That's when all the grandmothers and aunties would come back after working in the padi fields all day, and my step-grandfather would return from hunting," she recalls wistfully.
But her idyllic childhood with her adoptive family wouldn't last forever.
As life unfolded, Yap drifted from her longhouse sanctuary. She ventured into university to study political science and subsequently returned to Kuala Lumpur, where she immediately started working in a public relations (PR) agency. Alongside her PR career, Yap also pursued and achieved a degree in law.
Life isn't linear, as she'd soon discover. After 15 years of working, she experienced a burnout and made the decision to return to Sarawak. "I opened a small bar, became a mother, and then transitioned into the corporate world, joining Petroleum Sarawak (PETROS) as a communications director," she recalls, adding with a chuckle: "It was quite an adventure!"
Yet another twist in Yap's journey unfolded with the onset of the pandemic in Malaysia. "Being a single parent and isolated from my support network was incredibly tough," she confides. With her mother and siblings based in Peninsular Malaysia, Yap decided to move back to Kuala Lumpur.
Continuing to work remotely for PETROS during this time, she eventually made the heartfelt choice to step away from her career there, prioritising the upbringing of her daughter above all else.
It was during this lull that she resolved to pursue her passion for cooking, merging it with her deep affection for indigenous cuisine. "It's about preserving memories," she explains, adding: "Every time I cook, I'm reminded of my Iban grandfather."
Yap deeply misses the simple food of her upbringing and the memories they evoke. "You cannot find this here in Kuala Lumpur," she laments, adding: "We're losing touch with our culinary traditions, and our diverse cuisine is dwindling. Returning to Sarawak, I realised how distinct Sarawakian cuisine is from Peninsular Malaysia. If we don't preserve these traditions, we risk losing a vital part of our identity."
Witnessing the gradual erosion of age-old culinary traditions in urban areas, Yap resolved to become a champion for Indigenous recipes and ingredients. Her mission is clear: to ensure these invaluable aspects of Sarawak's culinary heritage endure for future generations.
With that in mind, Yap started hosting her own series of private dining experiences, dubbed Ethnic Sarawak Nights, showcasing curated menus featuring Sarawakian indigenous cuisine.
"Peninsular Malaysia has very little exposure to Sarawakian indigenous cuisine," she explains. "They're more familiar with what I call the 'highlights' or what I term as the kopitiam food, like Sarawak laksa and kolo mee. I wanted to do things differently."
Her supper clubs provide a platform to introduce and celebrate lesser-known dishes and flavours from Sarawak to a broader audience.
Since starting her venture, Yap hasn't looked back. "This endeavour touches many points for me. It combines my love for cooking and research, and evokes a deeper appreciation of my home state and the people I grew up with," she reflects thoughtfully.
Her venture hasn't only fostered a renewed respect for the land of her birth, but has also provided a meaningful connection for her 11-year-old daughter to her mother's roots.
"Even more importantly, from a mother's perspective, it allows me to teach my daughter that you can pivot from being a corporate professional to something different," she shares, adding: "She can be proud of me as a communications director just as much as she can be proud of me as the chef of Karen's Ethnic Plate."
Yap is committed to unearthing age-old recipes and championing the diverse culinary traditions of every Sarawakian tribe. Her mission is clear: to showcase cuisines that often remain in the shadows. As we sit down to savour the array of dishes before us, it strikes me how the taste of home can be a deeply personal and varied experience for each individual.
Despite these differences, there's a universal resonance in her cooking. The flavours she brings to the table evoke a sense of nostalgia and belonging, a testament to the rich cultural heritage of Sarawak. Through her meticulously curated dishes, Yap ensures that the essence of home — unique to each tribe, yet profoundly familiar — can be tasted and appreciated by all.
For more details on Karen's Ethnic Plate, go to www.instagram.com/karens_plate.