taste of home

29 April, 2012 § Leave a comment

so much is changing so quickly in my country.  if not time, then chance will run out, for us and we will let slip those things which make this place unlike the others.

Roti Jalal - at a corner of Boon Tat Street

7 years since my first and last taste of Roti Jalal at a cafe near Waterloo Street.  I never did come across it again on the streets.  Until last week.

I went up and gingerly asked (in Malay) if they were serving Roti Jalal that day.  4, or was it 5, kindly faces under knitted caps looked up at me in a row, their shirt sleeves rolled up, hands busy with some cooking or other.  Perhaps it was my accent, or the foolishness of my question, which told them it was not a regular customer at the counter.

My next question was the giveaway.  I had to know whether it was too spicy.  I asked (again in Malay) and the mak cik serving me looked up from her curry pot and said ‘no’, in the same way my grandmother used to assure me.

They all laughed now.

I was a child again.



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