IT'S MENTAL

When I was still a child I cannot remember cake very often. Now, cake is such a happy word. In large part because my apartment mate (formerly my girlfriend; just a good friend for over a decade) made the term so happy sounding. Cake is a cheering thing. I've had more cake as an adult than during my youth. Yesterday I had a slice of lemon Swiss roll cake (檸檬瑞士卷 'ning mung seui si kuen') with afternoon tea at a bakery in Chinatown.
一塊蛋糕，一杯奶茶。Happiness.

For the past two days I've been obsessing over food elsewhere. Panggarap, palakpak, soto, and sambal goreng (veggies with a tamarind sauce, veggies with fishpaste, soup-stew, stirfry with chilipaste). And especially guleh ikan, fish curry, often with chunked vegetables added.

Primarily made with grouper. But other fish can be used. Even salmon.

It's something I can cook, and do, but not very often.
I associate it with Penang and Singapore.
As well as Den Haag.

In the Netherlands, excellent Indonesian and Malay food can be had in Den Haag, to a lesser extent Amsterdam, and at a few restaurants out in the provinces. Here in the United States it is rare, and often a restaurant will have one or two exceptional dishes, and be quite mediocre otherwise.

By necessity I learned how to make the dishes I wished to eat, because otherwise I might never have them again. Here in SF one can nowadays find all the ingredients, but in the vast interior it is, I have heard, difficult. A very good reason not to go there.

You may have noticed a cavalier attitude toward the Red States.
I believe it is evident in very many of my essays.
Food has a lot to do with that.
I can't help it.


Life is primitive in the bush.



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