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“Very tasty, but a bit pricey because they are seasonal,”
she said, offering another of the endless stream of facts
and observations she delivered throughout our tour. “We
are now in the season of little fruits.”
All around us, Pasar Pudu stretched away in lane after
stall-crammed lane, sprawling out of its central square
and into the adjacent streets. It definitely lived up to its dish that sets you up for the day. If KL’s wet markets
description as a wet market: the uneven asphalt paving
(we had been strongly advised to wear comfortable,
closed footwear) was splashed with the drippings and
rinsings and trimmings of the most astonishing variety of
fresh seafood, meat, fruit and vegetables you could ever
hope to see. And even on a Monday it was jam-packed,
with shoppers jostling three to four deep in the narrow
aisles and porters yelling and pushing trolleys and barrows
in every direction. It was also hot: sun umbrellas covered
most of the stalls but the temperature in the shade was
still around 30 degrees C, with 90 per cent humidity.
We half-joked that we would hate to see the place on a
busy day.
But Pasar Pudu was a revelation. For all of its devotion to
commerce, the market had an unexpected beauty. There
was counter after counter of gorgeous, subtly-patterned
cuttlefish, frilled gurnard, spiky black sea urchins and
slithery eel-like fish completely unfamiliar to Westerners.
Big blue crabs sat grumpily in shallow polystyrene tubs
with air bubbling into the water to keep them alive, their
ferocious nippers tied securely with green rubber bands.
There were tiny sharks, perfect red snapper, garfish,
grouper and octopus.
The produce section was equally fetching. Purple- and
white-streaked eggplants were arranged in big eye-
catching piles, as were tomatoes, garlic, coriander,
galangal, ginger, lotus root and mint. The spices section
smelt like the Arabian Nights, with counters heaped with
big black peppercorns, cinnamon sticks, nutmeg and
cardamom. In the dried foods section, a couple of us
recognised ikan bilis, the crunchy dried anchovies that are
a key ingredient in Malaysia’s “national” breakfast, Nasi
Lemak. Miss Julie stepped in to explain at times.
“This is known as square bean”, she said, holding up a
sample in one hand. “And this is snake bean”, she said,
shaking the other. ”The kampong (village) chickens are
also very tasty to Malay people,” she observed as we
entered the butchery section where hens with distinctive
red-brown feathers sat in cages awaiting their fate. At the
red meat counters, whole beasts were being filleted, with
impressive skill, with meat cleavers.
Back in the cool of the air-conditioned mini-bus and
its supply of wet wipes, we headed across town to
*John Corbett is Subeditor of Explore magazine.
look at another aspect of market life. By night, the 43
bars, restaurants and discount shopping outlets in the
Chinatown district do a roaring trade. By day, its streets
are the realm of street food vendors, although at 10.30am
things were only just starting for some of the locals who
were quietly spooning up bowls of congee, a rice porridge
illustrate the abundance of the land and the richness of
tropical seas, its street stalls reflect the extraordinary mix
of influences that makes Malaysian cuisine one of the most
interesting and diverse in Asia.
A thousand years before 16th-century European voyagers
ventured into the region, Malaysia’s ancient kingdoms
were part of a network of trading routes that extended
west to the coasts of Africa and Arabia, east to Indonesia,
and north to China. Later, under colonial rule, came
influences from Portugal, Holland and Britain. A stroll past
the street stalls in Jalan Petaling revealed some of the
happy results: fragrant curries harking back to India and
Indochina; soy bean milk and grass jelly drinks brought by
migrants from southern China; popiah (a Southeast Asian-
style spring roll) especially popular in Indonesia, and
stands selling the brightly-coloured ais kacang (shaved
ice) confections of agar-agar, tapioca and glutinous rice
that Malaysians adore. At a vendor’s cart next to some
roadworks I enjoyed the best curry puff of my life. Sort of
like a samosa or a Portuguese empanada but something
else yet again, this puff-pastry cousin of the meat pie has
been beloved by everyone since colonial times.
Another short hop took us to a Muslim eatery close to
Central Market where Miss Julie introduced us to teh tarik,
another colonial-era classic whose name literally means
“pulled tea”. With a dramatic flourish, a café staffer poured
our servings from a jug held high over his head. The tea
was frothy from its exertions and tasted like tea made with
Nestlé evaporated milk and sweetened liberally with palm
sugar. Which it was. Then it was on to the Central Market
where we roamed the profusion of stalls selling souvenir
items, batik and songket fabrics, culinary utensils and even
food art. Upstairs, Miss Julie pointed out the market’s
well-regarded food court whose stalls include Nyonya, the
world-renowned fusion of Malay and Peranakan (Straits-
born) Chinese cuisine.
Two of us noticed the exquisite kueh (small cakes and
tarts) that are Nyonya specialities and our eyes swivelled
over to Miss Julie. She had officially discharged her duties
and was readying us to head back to our hotel.
“If we bought a few of these for us all,” we asked, “could
you squeeze some in?” “Of course,” she replied. “You’re in
Malaysia. There is always time to eat.”
HELLOWORLD : EXPLORE : WINTER EDITION