CUP OF IPOH COFFEE MADE MY DAY

Life was very much simpler when I could order either black or white coffee usually served in a cup and saucer and sometimes in a glass. If I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would be packed in a plastic bag with a straw tied to it.

Now coffee brands pride themselves on the different varieties of the coffee drink they can offer with prices that match the cost of their ingenuity, so to speak. So we look up at the signboard filled with fancy names for the humble coffee drink and struggle in our minds deciding whether we should order an Americano, a shot in the dark, a café au lait, a café breva, a café macchiato, an expresso or a café latte.

As if the list is not daunting enough, there is the frappe, the hammerhead, the madras filter coffee, the kopi Tubruk, the Melya, the Mocca, the Oliang and the Lungo. And if I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would come in a fancy paper or plastic cup with a lid. Sometimes there is a special holder too, so that the heat will not burn my hand.

I have not tasted most of these exotic drinks, preferring to stick to the familiar and regular cup and therefore will not attempt to expound on the exquisite aroma or how one is defined by the coffee she drinks. Instead, it is the enigmatic circumstances that surround me when I drink my favourite cuppa that leave the best memories.

If Shane West and Mandy Moore have A Walk To Remember, I certainly have A Cup to Remember, two great cups even.

The first great cup of coffee was drunk alfresco in a café around the corner of Thomas Street in Limerick. I was in between shopping for school books for my daughter and shopping for myself as a reward for shopping for school books for my daughter. So, I decided on a coffee and a cream bun as I listened to the maestro belting out classics like "'O sole mio" (the sun) which is a globally known Neapolitan song written in 1898. Although I did not understand a single word of the lyrics penned by Giovanni Capurro, the melody composed by Eduardo di Capua was breathtaking. I was not the only one soaking in the ambience. I could see the appreciative audience sipping their coffee very slowly to make it last as many songs as possible.

As we imagined ourselves somewhere in sunny Italy, we were thrust back into Ireland when the rain came. Like a magician the maestro dished out an umbrella and began his next song, Nessun Dorma (None Shall Sleep), so naturally, as if the weather did not affect him at all. That to me was professionalism. I could have sat there the whole day, but then again I could not drink that many cups of coffee.

The next great cup of coffee was drunk in a Chinese restaurant in Newbridge, County Kildare. We were on the way to Dublin airport to pick my daughter upon her return from Germany and we decided to make a turn off to Newbridge for some steamy hot rice and asian cuisine. There were a good number of restaurants to choose from but somehow we gravitated towards Kings Park Chinese and Thai Restaurant on the Main Street.

Every time we enter an Asian restaurant, we would try to guess where the proprietors come from by looking at their faces and listening to their accents. So far, we have correctly identified Mainland Chinese, Taiwanese, Thais, and the list goes on. At Kings Park, I suspected that we were among Malaysians so I asked the young man who waited at our table where he was from.

‘Malaysia, Ipoh to be precise’ he said.

Every time someone mentions Malaysia, the effect would be electric. There was great camaraderie between us as we exchange light conversation about Malaysia and Ireland and I could see how his face lit up when he told me he was going back to Malaysia for a month’s holiday. We had a 3-course meal and coffee was to be served last. So I said, ‘Do you have Ipoh coffee?’ He smiled and said he would concoct something for me.

The next thing I knew was he brought me a tall glass of coffee with milk. I thought he was a true Malaysian at heart, very hospitable and he went out of the way to do something for a fellow Malaysian, both far away from home.

To me that was paradise. It was certainly a taste of Malaysia in Ireland. As we continued our journey to Dublin airport the taste of Ipoh coffee lingered on my lips.


SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 25 SEPT 2011 http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/157461228

SHEER JOY IN PLANTING OWN GREENS

I have just cooked a meal. Nothing out of the ordinary since I enjoy cooking but it is yet another milestone for me to savour the produce of my backyard. I have always thought it a gargantuan task to grow any vegetables lest harvest them since I have spent most of my life living in a city. But now with a humongous backyard, I felt that it would be a shame not to sow some life into it.

So began my adventure into planting seeds and bulbs. Emma O Dwyer, who conducts gardening classes at St Munchin’s Community Centre gave me valuable tips on how to prepare the soil, sow seeds, propagate cuttings and even make fertilizers out of nettles. Apparently the gooey mash is excellent fodder for the ground but the only snag is the rotting weed stinks. She is a great teacher, explaining everything in detail and never failing to answer even the simplest questions. Through all the sessions, I felt wonderful to be a student all over again.

For weeks, I would scout out slugs and snails in the dark of the night with a torchlight and dogged determination. With quite a number of disappointments given the weather and pests, I was blown away when I saw the heads of cabbages forming, the heavy tomatoes bursting out of the delicate stalks , beans appearing among tendrils and potatoes emerging from the soil. Most of all, it is the eating of food that is free from pesticides, plant growth regulators and genetically modified organisms that makes it all so meaningful. It may sound strange but home-grown food actually tastes sweeter than commercially produced ones.

To add protein to the dinner table, my brothers-in-law Martin and Gerard and my step sons Michael and Mark brought home pike and perch caught from the river near my house for the frying pan.

Not knowing what to do with the abundance of berries in the backyard, I immediately signed up for a workshop held at the Irish Seedsavers in Scariff on how to make jams and chutneys out of fruits and vegetables. Hilary Taylor showed us how to boil fruits and vegetables and how to bottle them so they would last. She was a natural and explained to us step-by-step on how it was done. After all the hard work of tilling the ground and minding the plants, I wanted to be sure that nothing was to go to waste. It was a delight to be in the company of like minds: a newbie among veterans.

I like the system here where preserving the environment takes precedence over most things. It is not uncommon to see bird feeders filled with nuts and seeds to attract wild birds. It comes as a surprise to me that most people actually know the names of the birds and the flowers in their vicinity. When I was in Malaysia, the names of wild birds remained in books for bird lovers and the names of flowers were the forte of nursery owners in Sungei Buloh. So lately, I have started to learn the names of the birds that visit the bird feeders and the names of the flowers and the shrubs too.

What I have embarked on is an amateurish route to sustainable living. But over here I have seen some groups of people who are into it full force. There are accountants and lawyers who have left their professions to till the land or to become craftsmen. Organic farming is also the craze and we even have organic salmon.

Another major factor of back-to-basics living involves that which no human can live without, water. We will be installing water butts which are plastic or oak drums for collecting rain water. With rain almost all year round in Ireland, this is a wonderful device. Most things are sold in do-it-yourself kits. The look of having to install anything is daunting but information is readily available here. There are very good regular gardening programmes over the national television station teaching us how to fix a water butt, protect potato plants from blight or build a barbeque pit in the garden.


What I started out as a hobby has also turned into a sense of pride. It is nice to walk down the street and meet neighbours or strangers who tell you that the window boxes of ruby red geraniums are beautiful or the baskets of yellow viola are breathtaking.

And they have not seen what is in my backyard yet.

SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 11 SEPT 2011 http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-197493061.html