Title: Nonya Flavours
Author: Julie Wong
Publisher: The State Chinese (Penang) Association & Star Publications (M) Bhd, 224 pages
Price: RM38  

HAVING a Peranakan heritage comes with a certain responsibility. Everyone expects you to know what nyonya (sometimes spelt as nonya) food is all about, and to able to cook it, too. Well, having been exposed to rich spices and flavours all my life, I can certainly give you the low-down on what’s a good plate of Sambal Udang (prawn sambal) or if the Jiu Hu Char (fried shredded cuttlefish and vegetables) is not up to par. But it doesn’t mean I can definitely reproduce every dish par excellence.  

Apart from the fact that nyonya cooking is often quite iffy when it comes to measurements (everything is agak-agak – rough estimates), it is also quite individualistic in nature.  

Each family goes by what has been handed down through the generations and the ingredients may differ slightly, but in essence, we are still talking about cooking the same dish. 

Note also that the operative word in this book is Penang, as Malaccan Straits Chinese may argue that they have a different collection of recipes to add. 

Bearing that in mind, Nonya Flavours is surely a brave attempt on the part of the publishers to put together this hotchpotch of recipes, some currently available in restaurants and some long forgotten by the new generation.  

What is particularly interesting is the brief history of the Straits Chinese and its rich cultural heritage, which give readers a better insight into the heart of the nyonya palate and why they eat what they eat. 

I dare say many Peranakan families were not aware of the treasures that were in their possession until recent years. Take nyonya ware, for instance. Some porcelain items that were mentioned in the book have been in my family forever.  

My mother used to keep pickles and, later, sugar in a kamcheng and, as children, we would play with my grandmother’s sireh (betelnut) containers. It was only after a well-informed friend told us the worth of a kamcheng that it is now stored away in the ornament cupboard. Unfortunately, the sireh containers are lost forever after they were passed around among various relatives and invariably thrown away as junk along the way. 

Given that context, it is admirable that efforts have been made to photograph the food in authentic nyonya ware.  

Generally, the photographs are beautiful and clearly illustrate every dish so you know how it is supposed to turn out. (Then again, these are only rough guidelines because even as I write this, I can hear some of my relatives exclaiming: ''That’s not how I would make it.'' Let me emphasise – nyonyas are very meticulous cooks.)  

However, there are parts where the food styling could have been better as some pictures turned out pretty gaudy due to the too-colourful mix of the plates and food, replete with just as vibrant a tablecloth. But it is true to life as that is exactly how it would look like in a nyonya home anyway.  

Kuih Paiti is pastry shell filled with vegetable strips and small shrimps.

The book also touts that every recipe is cut, cooked and wrapped to the nyonya’s exacting standards. Frankly, if my grandmother were alive today, she would have a fit if she saw how chor (rough) the ingredients were.  

However, I also appreciate the fact that the testers for the recipes had to cook every single dish. And some of them, although they may taste terrific, will not come out looking so good in pictures if they were chopped too fine or cooked for too long. Novice nyonyas trying out the recipes should remember this point and fine-tune the dishes as they go long. This will surely prove useful when you want to impress your future mother-in-law!  

The comprehensive breakdown of the book is commendable as it lists basics such as the ingredients and cooking method, complete with pictures as a guide, before diving into the recipes proper.  

Terms like ''butterfly pea flower'' may be totally unfamiliar to some but a quick look at the picture will reveal that it is the flower of a common garden creeper that is easily found. Another bit of eye-opening information – the yam bean is the correct translation of bangkuang and not turnip as I always thought. When I first looked up the recipe for Popiah, I was confused as I thought my ancestors had gotten the ingredients wrong all this while! 

I especially liked the way book is divided into distinctive segments: sambals, pickles, kerabus, starters, soups and then the main courses of poultry, pork, seafood, and, lastly, the desserts and cookies. It makes things a lot easier to find.  

Some dishes were surprising as they had not struck me as being particular to the nyonyas such as Roti Babi (fried pork sandwich), Cheh Hu (nyonya-style Indian rojak) and Too Huwait Char Kuchai (stir-fried chives with pig’s blood). Others were a wonderful walk down memory lane as there were dishes my mother used to cook but no longer remembers (as she is almost 80) like Masak Titik (watermelon skin soup), Too Kua Kean (Pork Liver Roll), and Perut Ikan (pickled fish stomach with herbs and vegetable curry). Including the recipe for Assam Heh (tamarind fried prawns) is laudable, specifically since this version is seldom available commercially. Every time I ask for assam prawns at nyonya restaurants, I get frustrated as they give me the sambal version instead.  

One particular segment was new to me – the part on confinement food. I never knew the nyonyas had special food for this occasion. Or, to be more precise, I didn’t realise that some of the daily food I have been cooking are actually confinement food. For example, Char Mua Eu Kay (sesame oil chicken), Tau Eu Kay (sweet soy sauce chicken) and Mua Eu Chien Chuan Hu (fried chuan fish with sesame oil) are regular offerings in my house. But I suppose as far as the Chinese are concerned, as long as you add plenty of sesame oil and ginger, it qualifies as confinement food.  

Contrary to popular thinking that cooking nyonya food is a laborious and arduous task, Nonya Flavours has greatly simplified the recipes, and instructions are delivered in simple and quick, easy steps.  

This proves two things: firstly, our grandmothers basically made things a lot more complicated than they really were (maybe to prevent not-so-favourite relatives from stealing their recipes!) and, secondly, you don’t have to be oozing with talent to be a good nyonya cook.  

My only quibble is the way ''nyonya'' is spelt ''nonya'' throughout the book. Editor Julie Wong, who is also editor of the lifestyle food magazine Flavours, has adopted this version which I have always found rather strange.  

According to Tan Giok-San who wrote the first comprehensive ethnography of the Peranakan of Indonesia in 1963, the word ''peranakan'' is derived from the Malay-Indonesian root ''anak'', meaning child, with the prefix ''per'' and suffix ''an'', rendering the meaning ''born of''. The terms ''Baba'' and ''Nyonya'' mean ''mister'' and ''Miss'', and they carry the connotation of ''gentleman'' and ''lady''.  

The Indonesian kin-terms used by elderly women, referring to the child’s spouse were sexually marked as ''babah mantu'' (daughter’s husband) and ''njonja mantu'' (son’s wife). This would explain why the word has since appeared in various forms such as nyonya, nonya and nona. So I guess it is really a matter of what you are more familiar with. 

Some nyonya cooks may deliberate why bother getting this book since the recipes are all so familiar anyway. But instead of having sacred family recipes saved on pieces of paper all over, it makes smart sense to keep this book handy. And rather than go into lengthy discussions on who our ancestors were, and what food Ah Mah (grandmother) used to cook since I probably won’t be taking the trouble to reproduce some of the more complex dishes, it would be easier to just get this book for my children.  

Email cir.ccu@thestar.com.my or Call 03-79671777 for more details.