Although I had it afterwards in the W. Village of NYC (somewhere on Christopher St.), but the original kind and first ever for this amazing soup was tasted abroad when I visited my friend Adeline, an Australian-Chinese I met in S. Korea, now back and living in her hometown of Singapore City, and she said it should be the first thing I tried. Laksa is a Singaporean food icon composed of sambal shrimp paste that's dissolved in coconut milk broth infused with lemongrass and sesame chili oil - the base immersion for egg noodles, pickled vegetables and shellfish catch of the day. I did a vegan version today, and reminiscing my past travels, I surrendered happily to my hunger, drinking the hot-sour-gingery-garlicky-spicy-pickle sweet-richly exotic-super food soup straight from the bowl. My laksa had swimming in it these aquatic greens (so ancient in its nutrients; watercress has been around since Roman times); slices of starfruit for sour; salted chickpeas and rice for heft; and for broth flavor, tomato paste and coconut milk with curry powder and chili pepper flakes, tons, and lime oil float (leaving a wedge in the hot pot, thus rendering it unctuous). And with chopsticks fervor, caught them all to the last bite. (P.S. A good friend from upcountry gave me the watercress and the tomato paste, and because she loves "Indian" food, which incidentally Singapore's tripartite culture includes India, Chinese and Malay the other two, this post is gratefully dedicated to her.)
Workaholism defined in culinary context according to Sean Brock, superstar southern chef, is “the actual opportunity to contribute to something I love, and I can achieve it while staying happy and healthy— and that’s success, because you are creating newer emotions.” Piping hot soup is my medicine food without a prescription. At food stalls in Shanghai, I remember inside traditional wet markets, at the height of humid summer locals drank hot tea and seemed to enjoy sweating it out with the grueling day. Why? They believe gustatory heat ventilated the body and opened the respiratory pores, thus releasing free radicals and toxins, and you're breathing well. A Japanese former coworker in New York drank hot water frequently everyday, never cold, and she was at the time already in her seventies yet looking late forties, with tightest of facial skin and ever so energetic, a consummate workaholic, not ever in caffeinated energy, but ever in "thermal" energy within her soul. My favorite food when I was living in S. Korea was kong-na-mul guk-bap, beansprouts soup with rice served in a sizzling stone bowl (dolsot), with raw egg on the side for tearing in rough flakes of crispy seaweeds and then adding them to the bubbling soup for its healing effects. Winters in Korea were pretty brutal (meteorologically affected by the Siberian vortex), and therefore this hot herbal-like guk was the savior of the day...
January is mild and rainy on Maui and it’s perfect soup weather— especially perfect after a cold early morning swim at Iao Valley. I love the proximity of the mountain and waterfalls where I live, and every time I’m exercising there my heart is filled. And so with hot nutritious soup, and with ingredients grown local put in my cooking, I give this love back into my body. I don’t go out much, and I cook all my food at home. And friends share so much with me. Ohana is an expression here in Hawaii which means a community of extended family where you belong. And again, borrowing from Sean Brock, "what life should mean to you... begins with two." Sharing. Finally, his guiding philosophy was adopted from Alfred Adler, a contemporary of Freud and Jung, and simplified for him the purpose and meaning of life by contribution— to share in your best talent to others; and your food (as for me). And this will be the beginning of your principal connection and place in the universe of life.
“Heaven is a place of tireless creativity but each for the joy of working, and each, in his separate star, and will paint the thing as he sees it for the God of things as they are!” - Kipling
Nice!
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