"AIYOH, what happened to your face? Lu si puok lok mihoon tang si boh? (Did you fall into the powder drum?)," asked a startled next-door neighbour in Hokkien as I ventured out to the garden to pluck a couple of kaffir lime leaves for my mee Siam.
Expression shocked, she eyed me up and down, trying to discern if I was in my right mind, walking around with a stark white, spectre-like face. She must have thought she was seeing things — like a hantu, perhaps.
While she continued to gawk at my appearance, I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and told her rather proudly that it was homemade bedak sejuk, or cooling powder, in Malay.
Hearing my reply, her expression shifted from shock to elation, and then to recognition.
"Wow, it's been so long since I've seen anyone using bedak sejuk, let alone a youngster like you! These days, young people prefer all the expensive Korean beauty brands lah!" she quipped.
RICE WATER
Bedak sejuk... expensive K-beauty brands... hmm, why not? After all, Koreans — and even the Japanese — have used rice-infused water to wash their faces for generations. Today, it's pretty amazing to see the humble rice water being incorporated into skincare products.
Before the arrival of expensive brands with their confusing 10-step skincare routines, women used to rely on bedak sejuk, a white paste, as their go-to beauty regiment. It comes in small white pellets that can be bought from the sundry shop or made at home. Simply dissolve them into a paste and apply it evenly over the face. They swore by its moisturising properties, oil-absorbing wonders and its ability to clear the skin of impurities
My grandmother grew up using it, as did her mother. My mother did the same, and we, the children, are no exception. Our bath routine is never complete without a generous amount of bedak sejuk slathered on our faces at the end.
And being children, we used to laugh ourselves silly in front of the mirror. The more adventurous ones would steal a tiny pinch to be eaten later!
REPETITIVE PROCESS
The milky white liquid swirls in the large porcelain bowl, forming ripple patterns reminiscent of a Japanese zen garden sculpture. Except for its silky texture and milky appearance, there's nothing zen-like about unprocessed bedak sejuk.
To the uninitiated, the unprocessed bedak sejuk has a strong, pungent smell — a scent of fermentation, to be exact. Although it requires only a few steps, the process of making it is time-consuming.
The raw rice would first be washed under cold running water several times before being soaked overnight. The process would then be repeated until the rice becomes completely soft and paste-like. It's a slow fermentation process that can take up to a month.
I would watch as my mother ladled the fermented rice water, checking its texture every now and then, unperturbed by the revolting scent.
"No, it's not ready yet," she would say with the air of an experienced hand, before shoving the entire bowl back into the fridge.
Back in the day, my late grandmother used to cut medium-sized squares of banana leaves, which she'd fashion into funnels to squeeze out tiny pellets of bedak sejuk paste. Today, my mother saves time by using one of her piping bags, normally used for decorating cakes.
When the fermented rice is finally ready, my mother would sieve it through cheesecloth to remove the excess water.
Next, she would pour a substantial amount of the pasty bedak sejuk into the piping bag. With a steady hand, she'd squeeze out a little at a time, maintaining a firm grip. Too fast or too slow, and you'd end up with uneven or broken bits.
With practiced hands, she would move the funnel over the tray, neatly filling it with uniform tiny pellets of bedak sejuk paste, each almost perfectly the same size. Once the tray was filled, it would be set out to dry under the hot sun.
The drying process must be thorough to prevent mould from forming. Once completely dried, fragrant dried pandan leaves and jasmine flowers would be added, infusing it with a subtle, powdery, floral aroma.
As I sat in the kitchen observing, I can't help but admire my mother's persistence in doing things the traditional way.
LEGACY LIVES ON
Even though my maternal grandmother had passed on, her legacy of making bedak sejuk continues to live on. Unlike in the past, when every family made their own version of bedak sejuk, the younger generation today shows little interest in learning the craft.
Of course it's a laborious and time-consuming process, but if no one continues it, the tradition will be lost forever. Tradition doesn't have to mean being stuck in the past; rather, it should enrich the lives of those in the present.