Taste Good: A Melting Pot of Cuisine and Culture — David Siahaan

 

Tucked between a Thai bakery and a Chinese supermarket is an inconspicuous, hole-in-the-wall restaurant painted in bright yellow with red letters that read, “Taste Good.” Located in the heart of the culturally diverse neighborhood of Elmhurst, Queens, it might be overlooked by passersby as “just another restaurant.” To those informed, it brings authentic Malaysian food to the masses. Malaysian cuisine is a melting pot of various cuisines, primarily from India, China, Thailand, and Indonesia. This melting pot leads to a beautiful mosaic of flavors, textures, and aromas from all cultures, creating food that is distinctly Malaysian. 

I approach the door, coming face to face with a large “Cash Only” sticker along with their eight ZAGAT awards, a memory of a bygone age of New York City. As I enter the restaurant, I am greeted by a loud and kind-hearted Malaysian grandma, the owner, affectionately known as “Auntie Taste Good.” According to my mother, Auntie Taste Good has been greeting people at the restaurant since before my mother arrived in America in 1997. Sitting at the table, I am met with jasmine tea and a menu. Although a menu is given, I rarely use it, as the walls are plastered with pictures of the 198 dishes they serve, each picture faded from years of exposure. I spin my head around, looking up and down for something new to try. They have all kinds of dishes, from rich fish head soup to pungent Marmite shrimp. Each time I come, I always try something new. The server approaches, asking what I would like in a thick Malay-Chinese accent. This time, I choose the Fragrant Spicy Chicken. As the server finishes taking my order, she briskly walks towards the kitchen, grabbing an empty teapot and dirty dishes off a table, seemingly dancing around the gauntlet of tables with grace and poise. She enters the kitchen, yelling the order to the three cooks before handing in the ticket.

The cooks, all in their fifties, wearing T-shirts and cargo shorts with mismatched aprons, get to work. One cook works the wok, making Malaysian classics like char kuey teow. His arm is covered in burn scars from flying oil, and his shoulder is in a brace. Yet, he effortlessly handles the ten-pound wok with a single hand as the ingredients fly in the air, giving each dish the signature wok hay flavor. He no longer flinches at the flames or panics when things burn. Instead, he is patient and calm, never wavering in his craft. A second cook works on the soups, curries, and braised dishes. In front of him are six large stockpots filled with the bases of all soups, sauces, and curries, along with a series of raw ingredients. Out of the six bases, he creates nearly one hundred unique dishes from memory, ranging from the creamy and sweet prawn laksa to the spicy and smoky beef rendang. His hands dash from ladle to ladle, his mind in overdrive as muscle memory controls his body. The third cook is in charge of plating. He maneuvers past the other cooks with little effort, running from the rice cookers to the pickled vegetables as he assembles each plate. He receives the servings from the other cooks before meticulously plating each one, creating a spitting image of the pictures on the walls. This is all done in nearly complete silence, as the three are in perfect harmony, each movement a note in a triumphant symphony of motion and fragrance. The scent from the kitchen pervades through the restaurant, a rich and smoky aroma that gets trapped in your head. This celebration of food and flavor concludes with the chime of the bell for service. 

The server approaches my table, plate in hand, steam rising off it. As it is placed in front of me, I am filled with excitement. The dish consists of glistening chicken thighs bathed in a red chili sauce and topped with kaffir lime leaves. The aroma permeates through the room; the savory smell of the chicken, the sharpness of the chili, and the floral notes from the lemongrass only elevate my anticipation. As I take a bite, I am in a state of euphoria. I am first hit by a wave

of heat, the spicy and robust chili sauce coating my tongue. Floral undertones from the lemongrass and galangal intensify the flavors, perfectly contrasting the sauce. Yet, all of the flavor is perfectly cut by the citrus of the lime leaves, neutralizing the full-bodied flavors and balancing the dish. My tongue starts to tingle from the dash of Sichuan peppercorn, bringing the dish to another level. The dish is brought together by a crispy and succulent chicken thigh, adding a mild crunch and satisfying texture. I look around, observing every customer find a piece of home with every bite as smiles and laughter fill the room. A mother sits at a table with her son, sharing a bowl of hokkien mee and a cup of cendol as they celebrate him scoring his first goal for his soccer team. A group of international students sits in the corner, savoring each bite of nasi lemak they used to eat on their way to school in Malaysia. As I continue eating, I start to cry, mostly due to the spiciness of the dish but also because of the feeling of happiness and home I get from eating it. Indeed, this dish is worthy of the restaurant’s name, “Taste Good.”