nasi lemak - a short story

“I’m so hungry,” I breathed under my breath, sipping on my iced lemon tea.
Refreshingly sweet, yet tart—The perfect drink for what I was about to eat.

And I couldn’t wait to devour my first meal of the day.

The scent of coconut and warm spices awakened my senses, like a meerkat suddenly alert on its hind legs. I looked over to the corner and saw a waiter approaching with a steaming plate of rainbow.

My plate of all my favourite colours.

Nasi Lemak.

The plate lay before me. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the aromas wash over me—sweet, savoury, spicy, briny, and nutty. It was so inviting, so indulgent.
I smiled. I knew I was in for a treat.

At the heart of it all was a perfect sphere of fluffy white rice, delicately scented with coconut and pandan—like the head of a flower.

One ‘petal’ held a generous scoop of sambal, thick and glossy, its deep red hue promising a slow, burning heat. Yet there was a subtle sweetness to it too, from the caramelised onions. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

Another ‘petal’—the ikan bilis and roasted peanuts.
Crispy anchovies, salty and full of character, paired with the nutty crunch of the peanuts. A harmony of textures and taste.

You could taste the history in them, their humble beginnings. Also, let’s be honest—they’d make an amazing beer snack.

Next came the crisp cucumber slices and a perfectly boiled egg. Both to mellow the spice’s fire. They gave moments of relief, refreshing your palate just when you thought the heat had taken over.

And finally, the star of the ensemble—my go-to: a fried chicken leg.
Golden, crispy skin with tender, juicy meat underneath, infused with lemongrass and a medley of spices.
Just the thought of it paired with sambal made my heart skip.

Perfection on a plate.
A savour to remember. A texture overload.
What more could anyone ask for?

Carefully, I assembled each component onto my spoon. My mouth already salivating, I swallowed hard in anticipation.

I blew gently—once, twice—and then guided the spoon into my mouth.

A bite. A chew. Once, twice…
And then, a smile spread across my face in quiet euphoria.

I could taste it.
A dish that speaks in flavours, carrying stories of everyday life in Southeast Asia. Of history. Of memory.

This is comfort. This is exactly where I want to be.

This is home.