Marketing

Jezza asks what, and where, I’ve been eating. I’ve actually done a lot of cooking myself. Often, I’ve taken the easy way out and gone to a supermarket for ingredients. At other times, I’ve gone to one of the local markets for an assault on the senses. You can stand and watch fish being slaughtered and butchered live. So persuasive are the stall holders that you can go in only for some carrots, and come away with three bags full of fruit and veg that you don’t need, or understand how to eat.

I spent about half an hour in a local market trying to get the ingredients for a green curry. I got most of the ingredients by only dipping my toes into the outer stalls, but one ingredient, sweet basil, remained elusive. I took the plunge and, as I wandered further in, the produce on the stalls became more colourful and exotic, and my feet became wet because they regularly sluice the fish blood and guts from the market floor.

No one had any sweet basil, though – it was all veg, meat and fish but no herbs. Eventually, one stall holder pointed me in the direction of a little old lady in the corner. I was reliably informed that she had every herb under the sun. The only problem was, I didn’t know what sweet basil looked like, and she didn’t know what it sounded like in English. I bought some random looking herb anyway and put it in my bag.

I then went to the supermarket and bought some sweet basil.

I got home to discover that what I’d actually bought from the little old lady in the market was, in fact, sweet basil.

Finally, when I made my green curry, I forgot to put the sweet basil in.

As for eating out, the best places I’ve eaten have been the hawker centres. I’m sure if you’ve been to this part of the world you’ll know what I’m talking about – tiny stall after tiny stall, each specialising in about 10 different dishes – there’s fresh seafood, Chinese, noodles, Indian curry, Thai cuisine – the choice is comprehensive, and you sit and eat it at a plastic table and stool. The prices are fantastic, and the food is delicious.

You can easily spend four times as much for a less tasty meal in a fancy restaurant. I did this once with four colleagues. We were in ex-pat central, by the river. It was a Thai restaurant. Our meal was accompanied by the strains of rugby songs floating through the night sky, and banker types hovered in their garish shirts, sweating profusely, talking loudly about themselves, and adding extra volume whenever they mentioned a sum of money.

The waiter who took our order managed to persuade us to change our order entirely. He also suggested we order medium sized dishes so we could share with each other.

We had to ask for doggy bags having left far more food than we were able to eat. The prawns alone were large enough to make me wonder whether they’d been specially bred or genetically modified.

And then there’s McDonalds. There always is, isn't there? I’ve not been, but it’s everywhere. The hawker centres seem to be full of Westerners trying out something different, and the Maccy Ds and KFCs seem to be full of locals trying out something different. I guess the grass is always greener.

Finally, today I went to a tiny cafe and had this. It was delicious, but before I left I needed to use the "restroom", which was through the kitchen. As I surveyed the scene before my eyes, the meal lost some of its pleasant aftertaste.


Chicken curry and rice