Take one step in any direction anywhere in Malaysia, and you’ll likely be poked by skewers of satay (they’re a constant, but delicious hazard). Buoyed by its ‘national culinary sweetheart’ status and unafraid of paparazzi overexposure, satay has made itself as strikingly ubiquitous as grass. Its omnipresence is certainly a bonanza for perpetually open-mouthed, food-stalking Malaysians who can ‘satay-tiate’ their hunger for grilled, marinated meat anywhere, at any time. But it doesn’t take a snooty foodie to despairingly point out that much of what is widely available – everywhere from restaurants to food courts – is generic, of inferior quality and tastes like tree bark. A snooty foodie myself, I’m forced to make punishing treks to a handful of far-flung, low-profile satay outlets-cum gourmand pilgrimage sites only whispered about in apps like Foursquare. So it was pure culinary kismet that led a stall hawking virtually-unattainable Satay Padang to cross my path one evening, right in my hometown of Tanjung Malim, Perak.
Seemingly having rolled in right out of Padang, Sumatra, the stall largely comprised an Indonesian-style wooden food push cart laden with aluminum pots, glass jars, large Tupperware containers, plastic bags and bowls engorged with a riot of food ingredients. Off to one side and illuminated by a blazing fluorescent light tube was a spindly, glowing charcoal grill almost hidden under a hissing chorus line of roasting satay. Mimicking the line of satay was a slightly-swaying line of over a dozen people, impatiently awaiting their orders – and I promptly took my place in the rear.
The kitchen, sales counter and office of a gentlemanly elderly Indonesian hawker, the Satay Padang stall, I discovered, was a minor sensation among residents of Tanjung Malim’s Kampung Ketoyong district, where it has been holding court and building a fan base over the past year. He sells 500 skewers of authentic Satay Padang per night, and is invariably sold out after just a couple of hours of operation. For just RM5, you can walk (although you’d likely be skipping) away with a takeaway pack of 10 skewers of Chicken Satay, Ketupat dumpling cubes (because Nasi Himpit is too mainstream), and the Minangkabau dish’s signature yellow sauce which separates Satay Padang from all its fizzling, wannabe cousins.
Unfurling the banana leaf wrap reveals a beautifully chaotic mélange of ingredients exuding a luxuriantly rich – and distinctly non-Malaysian satay – aroma. And if the dish’s fragrance transported me out of the country, its taste rocketed me out of this world. The meat was spectacularly tender, succulent and flavourful, and electrified the palate with competing tastes of the goat offal it had been boiled in, the savoury gravy it had been marinaded in, and the charcoal it had been grilled on. Astounding though it was, the meat was eclipsed by the glorious yellow sauce – a culinary committee of rice flour, chicken broth, turmeric (hence the hue), ginger, garlic, coriander, galangal root, cumin, curry powder and radioactively-spicy chili. The one-of-a-kind North Sumatran sauce can make your eyes cross with its distinctive tanginess and out-of-control forest fire spiciness – making it the antithesis of Malaysian Satay’s demurely sweet and politely reserved Peanut Sauce (which I also adore). Rating: 9.5 out of 10.
Satay Padang stall
Along Jalan Ketoyong, Kampung Ketoyong
35900 Tanjung Malim, Perak
Hours: 8pm to 10.30pm
*Based on an article published by militant foodie, omnipresent shutter bug, indefatigable traveler and bionic blogger, Venoth Nathan, in Venoth’s Culinary Adventure. Images are courtesy of http://venoth.blogspot.my/.