My Hakka mother thought nothing out of the ordinary to feed her young ones a myriad of food ranging from all the hawker fares, curries, gulai and different types of meat and seafood she could afford to buy. She used to tell us that whatever had its’ back (i.e. spine) facing the sky is edible. That and the vile concoctions made from roots and barks bought from the medicinal shops that she labelled as nutritious soups set the tone for the culinary adventure and my lifelong love affair with food. For our Peranakan staples, there's the grinding, pounding and chopping with large cleavers on wooden blocks in the kitchen. The dins of which is irritating yet soothing, in a way. These are the noise of my childhood. If it’s the pounding of pestle and mortar coupled with that salty rancid burn of toasting belacan that means sambal belacan is being made. Also means there’s either nasi lemak which is rice cooked in thick coconut milk and tamarind prawns, honeyed anchovies, deep f...