HOKKIEN MEE PART II: THE NOODLES

A few days ago, I was watching a video on urban farming in Singapore. A middle-aged lady who was interviewed spoke of how the cultivation of crops transformed her. It taught her the virtues of letting go and relinquishing the idea of complete control, freeing her to give her teenage daughter space. In the same vein, local writer Christopher Tan writes in his article about breadmaking. He reveals that part of its allure lies in the mystery that in the process of making bread, bread is conversely 'making him'. It made me think about how our engagement with food - be it in its production or preparation - is so much more than an act of sustenance and nourishment. It moulds the way we think and sculpts our perspectives.

Cooking for a living and for pleasure has seeped into the way I perceive food on the table and the hands that prepared it. There is deeper well of appreciation for it, a result of the mindfulness of what goes into it and the efforts to which one has to go to gift that ounce of pleasure.

It is peculiar that, after so many demolished plates of Hokkien mee, approaching it in my own kitchen was akin to regarding it for the first time, with a fresh pair of lenses. For one, I didn't realize that there were beansprouts - they blend so well into the white of the noodles. And are those wilted Chinese chives or spring onions? As I turn pale pink pork fat into crunchy cubes, a whiff of the smoky amber oil reminds me of lard's virtues and how it is as worthy of a place in a home as butter. Why is it that I never realized how central lard is to the Singaporean repertoire until I got down to cook?

My Hokkien mee is, by no means, perfect. The pork in Melbourne carries a distinct, assertive flavour that permeates the broth, and ultimately the braised noodles. We could not find small squid, those with intact purple membranes and little tentacles, and had to make do with large white tubes of calamari. One is also hard-pressed to find calamansi here, tiny green-skinned citrus with flesh that can be a vibrant orange. They taste unabashedly tropical and exuberant, unlike the only limes we can get here, what the market aunties in Singapore call qing ning meng (green lemons). Even the noodles are not completely exact to what we can find in Singapore.

Still, despite the glaring differences, it captured the flavours of home and instantly assuaged any feeling of homesickness. Wex was shaking his head in disbelief as he ate it. "Unbelievable. It makes me feel like I'm at a hawker centre."How is it that a dish that gives so much pleasure, and that demands so much effort from the cook, is being sold so cheaply in Singapore, at about S$4 a portion? And why is it that people are comfortable with paying $20 for carbonara or eggs Benedict, yet are aghast at a price hike in hawker centres?

This is probably a sentiment that has been echoed by Singaporean chefs and foodies, but we need to take more pride in our local food. Beyond that, we need to know how it is made and develop a profound appreciation for the effort and craft behind our favourite dishes. It is only then that we would be willing to pay for what they are worth. The antidote for that, as with many things, lies in our own kitchens.

Hokkien Mee Hokkien mee is a dish best prepared with the beautiful tiny squid with tentacles that curl up adorably. Their purple skins also add a nice pop of colour against the noodles. Calamansi is also so crucial. But if you are living abroad like me, you do what you can and use the next best alternatives available to you. It might be strange to see fish sauce featured in such a local dish, but I do see some famous Hokkien mee stalls with bottles of this funky goodness lined up proudly! Serves 4 1L broth (see previous post) 24 prawns, shelled 1 large tube of calamari or 2 medium squid, cleaned and sliced thinly 200g pork belly

All of the rendered pork fat (see previous post) 4 eggs, beaten 360g yellow Hokkien noodles, blanched 100g dried beehoon, soaked in water for 30 minutes and blanched 420g thick white beehoon, blanched 4 tablespoons minced garlic All of the crispy lard 100g beansprouts 150g Chinese chives Fish sauce

Lime (calamansi is best) Sambal or cut chillies

In a small pot, heat the broth until it begins boiling. Lower the heat to a simmer and add the prawns, squid or calamari and pork belly. Allow to cook, removing them from the broth as soon as they are ready and turn off the heat. Slice the pork belly into lardons and set aside with the seafood.

In a large wok, heat half the pork fat until smoking over high heat. Add the eggs and stir immediately - the eggs should bubble in the fat - until broke up and almost cooked. Add the noodles and toss with the eggs. Add half of the broth and braise until all the liquid has been absorbed. Push the noodles to the side of the wok and add the remaining pork fat and minced garlic. Fry until fragrant before adding the poached ingredients, beansprouts and chives. Toss well and cover with a lid. Turn the heat to low and allow the noodles to braise until the desired soupiness or dryness has been achieved - Wex likes his noodles with extra gravy. Taste and adjust the seasoning with fish sauce if necessary. Serve with lime and sambal/ cut chillies.