Voodoo Chillin'

One of the great things about South East Asia is the food. In fact, that's so much of a truism, that we may as well say 'one of the great things about the South Pole is the snow'.

In Malaysia, I cannot even begin to describe the salivatory delights of the different cuisines - Malay, Chinese, Indian, native, fusion, Western, Nonya, Kelantanese, Minangkabau, Indonesian, and I could go on and on and on until I need a new belt.

However, I have a handicap when it comes to enjoying all this culinary wonder. And it's quite a serious handicap, really, for anyone who lives in Malaysia and needs to eat. And it's this:

I can't stand chili!!!!!!!

Now by chili, I don't mean those innocent-looking, red or green or yellow things that some people put in salads and call peppers, or paprika or capsicums. I have no problem with those at all.

Also, I don't mean the kind of chili used in chili con carne, that wonderful Mexican addition to world culture, that I used to enjoy so much during my American posting in my youth.

By chili, I mean those little tiny carrot-shaped red or green flakes of hellfire that are used in almost any dish in Malaysia that you care to try. Especially the Malay food, nearly all Indonesian dishes, and, absolutely everywhere else. It's even in pizzas, and all branches of KFC offer chili sauce along with tomato ketchup.

I mean, it's hard enough getting used to the tropical heat as it is, especially for a Gentleman of Girth such as myself. So imagine what it’s like to be presented with thousands of degrees of additional blistering heat in the form of a meal that, on the surface of it looks delicious, but is laced with those little red cluster bombs.

Chillies in Malaysia come in different sizes and colours - mostly red and green - and range from a few inches long to a few millimetres. Apparently the smaller they are, the more deadly the payload. The smaller ones are commonly known as cili padi in Malay, but that doesn't make them any less dangerous!

Chili is used in everything - grated in fried rice, added to soups, mixed in with noodles, cooked with chicken and fish and forms a major part of one of Malaysia's great signature dishes - nasi lemak. Nasi lemak is rice cooked in coconut milk, with various accountrements that include dried anchovies (ikan bilis), half a boiled egg, a handful of peanuts in their skins, sometimes some curry chicken and finally the dreaded sambal belacan.

Sambal belacan is basically reddish-brown prawn paste which is mixed in with dried chillies. The prawn paste has a pungency that makes my eyes water from across the street, especially if it is being prepared the old fashioned way using pestle and mortar.

Now, on the surface of it, Nasi lemak is absolutely delicious - the rice is heavenly, if fattening, and the peanuts are a nice peck, and even the dried anchovies are jolly in a fishy, crunchy sort of way. And the chicken or the egg are, well, chicken or egg.

But nasi lemak only works for me if you take away the sambal belacan, with its deadly payload of chili. But the irony of it is that if you do that, it wouldn't be nasi lemak. Rather like eating fish and chips without the batter.

So I politely avoid the stuff. Which is hard to do if you work, like me, in a place where nasi lemak is always served for breakfast whenever we have meetings. Sorry, friends.

So, I hear you scream, what on earth do you eat if you can't take chili in Malaysia? Well, judging by the size of my stomach, I don't starve. Find out more in my next exciting chili-free post…