Linut, My Love

The mere mention of 'Linut' makes Pit Peng salivate. It means sago starch in English. It is the tradtional food of the Melanau in Sarawak.  Pit Peng learned to eat it from Nina, his Melanau girlfriend.

Six months ago, he was full of misgivings towards the gooey food.

“Hi, Peng,” greeted Nina, as she opened the front door of her house. “Welcome to my house.”

“Hi, Nina,” said Pit Peng, giving a bouquet of flowers to Nina. “I am excited to meet your parents.”

“Don’t worry,” says Nina, sniffing the flowers. “They are friendly.”

Nina, looking great in a pale blue blouse and a white knee-level skirt, ushered the self-conscious, ill-at-ease Pit Peng into the tastefully-decorated sitting room in her house.  Her parents, both seated on a sofa couch, smiled as the two walked in their direction.

“Good evening, Uncle and Auntie.”  Pit Peng held out his hand and shook the hands of Nina’s parents.

“Please sit down,” said Nina’s father, a retired government servant in his early sixties.

“Nina told me that you are a teacher as well,” said Nina’s father. “What do you teach?”

“English,” replied Pit Peng.  “but I am still learning.”

“That’s good,” said Nina’s father. “There is no end to learning English.”

“Peng,” Nina chimed in, sounding mysterious. “You are going to learn something new this evening.”

“What is it, Nina?” asked Pit Peng, puzzled.

“Ask my Mum,” said Nina, smiling naughtily. “She will introduce you to a special Melanau food.”

“It must be Umai,” said Pit Peng, confidently. “But I have tasted it before.”

Umai is a popular Melanau dish.  It is pickled fish.

“No, it isn’t,” said Nina’s graceful fifty-six year old Mother. “It’s Linut.”

“Linut?” Pit Peng shook his head. “What is it?”

“It’s sago,” Nina’s mother said proudly. “It used to be the staple food of the Melanau in the old days.”

Pit Peng’s heart sank. He had seen it sold in plastic bags at Tamu before. It was nothing but starch –unappetisingly chalk-white and powdery.  “What’s the point of eating sago?” His mother had remarked at the sight of some Melanau villagers enjoying sago during a feast on television one afternoon. “It’s like eating glue.”  Pit Peng could feel his stomach revolt.  Could he open his mouth when he put Linut in it?

                When Pit peng was invited to the dining room, he was surprised to see a wide array of food on the table.  There were fried fish, umai, fried fern tops, pickled bamboo shoots, various sambals and dipping sauces.  Next to each person’s plate was a chopstick-like instrument.  In the centre of the dishes was a pot of sago which had been soaked and drained of water.

                “Peng,” said Nina’s father. “My wife and Nina are going to demonstate how to cook Linut.”

                Pit Peng gave him an awkward smile.

                “Show time!” Nina said as she carried a kettle of boiled water from the kitchen.

                Pit Peng took a deep breath.

                Nina poured the hot water little by little into the pot of sago.  Her mother kept stirring the powder with a wooden spoon.  In only seconds, the powder became gooey and increased in volume. 

                “Peng,” said Nina’s mother. “Can you see that the sago starch has become more and more translucent?”

                “Yes,” said Pit Peng.  It really looked like glue.

                “When it imparts a glistening sheen,” explained Nina.  “It is ready to be served.”

                Nina’s mother twirled up a bite-sized ball of cooked sago with one of the chopstick-like instruments, dunked it into a bowl of dipping sauce and handed it to Pit peng.

                “Eat it,” said Nina’s mother, “and let us know what you think of it.”

                Pit Peng hesitated for a second, and shoved it into his mouth.

                Pit Peng was surprised by how palatable the taste was. Why? It tasted great.  It was smooth and melted in his mouth instantly.  The zingy aftertaste must have been caused by the use of kalamansi juice, chilies and shrimp paste in the dipping sauce.

               “Do you like it?” asked Nina’s father.

                “Yes, I like it,” said Pit Peng.

                “Be frank with us,” said Nina.  “You don’t have to tell lies.”

                “Really,” said Pit Peng, “It is really delicious.”

                “I’m glad you like it,” said Nina’s mother, her eyes twinking with delight. “We normally eat it with sauces and gravies. It is quite tasteless by nature, but rich in vitamins.”

                “Can I eat it on its own?” asked Pit Peng.

                “Yes,” said Nina’s father. “it has a very mild taste.”

                Nina’s mother twirled up another ball of Linut and gave it to Pit Peng.

                Pit Peng tasted it and found it very refreshing.

                “Okay,” said Nina’s father, clicking his fingers. “Let’s start eating Linut.”

                “Bon appetit,” said Nina, winking at Pit Peng.

                “We normally eat it with hot and spicy dishes like the ones on the table,” said Nina’s father. “They are good accompaniment to Linut.”

                With that, Nina and her parents held the chopstck-like instruments in their hands and poked them into the pot of Linut with one accord.  They twirled up the sago adeptly and brought it to their mouths after dipping  it in their favourite sauces.  Pit Peng tried to twirl up the sago but could only scoop up a little.  Nina laughed and showed him how to do it in a circular motion.  Pit Peng tried several times and finally got the hang of it. They kept conveying the sago to their mouths in a light-hearted atmosphere.

                From then onwards, Pit Peng became a regular to Nina’s house.  They ate Linut together, enjoying its delicious taste and the blissfulness of dining with each other.  A few weeks later, Pit Peng’s parents were invited to have Linut in Nina’s house.  They too fell in love with the food they had dared not try in the past.

                Pit Peng snaps out of his reverie when Michael Chong, the class monitor of 5 Einstein 2 knocks the door of the cooking room. There are twenty to thirty students lining outside the room.

                “Mr Lim, can we come in now?”

                “Yes,” assents Pit Peng. “Please come in.”

                The students come in and take their seats around the tables.

                After the chanting of good morning, a student named Jessie Enteri raises her hand and asks, “Teacher, why are we having English in the cooking room today?”

                With a smile, Pit Peng writes the word ‘SAGO’ on the whiteboard.

                “Have you ever eaten Sago before?” Pit Peng poses the question to the whole class.

                Most of the students say no.  Only a small number of them answer in the affirmative.  The majority of the students are Chinese.  The rest are Indians, Malays and Ibans.

                “You are going to learn how to cook and eat sago today,” Pit Peng announces.

                Some students cheer enthusiastically and some groan.

                “Teacher, I love sago.”

                “Teacher, I can’t wait to eat now.”

                “Teacher, I don’t want to eat glue.”

                “Teacher, why don’t you teach us to cook spegathi?”

                “Sago is a special food of the Melanau,” says Pit Peng. “For those who have never tried it, you should give it a shot.”

                With that, Pit Peng begins the lesson by asking the students where sago trees are normally found.

                “They grow in swampy areas,” says a Malay girl.

                “You’re right,” Pit Peng says. “Have you eaten it before?”

                “Of course,” replies the girl. “Malays also like to eat sago.”

                “And so do the Ibans,” pipes an Iban boy.

                “Good,” says Pit Peng. “Do you know how sago powder is extracted?”

                “No, teacher.” The boy shakes his head.

                “I know, teacher,”says a Chinese girl. “Although I have never eaten sago, I know that it is extracted from the inside of its tree trunk.”

                “What do you call the inside of the sago trunk?”Pit Peng asks.

                The class falls quiet.  Pit Peng writes the word ‘PITH’ on the whiteboard.

                “Oh, I see....” The students look at the word with dilated eyes. Some copy down the word.

                “The pith is grated into powder,” Pit Peng explains.  “It is then soaked in water. A white, sticky residue is left after the water has been drained.  It turns into sago powder after being left to dry in the sun for a few days.”

                The room is abuzz with excitement during the cooking session.  Pit Peng shows the students how to cook sago.  He has become very good in it after several practices in Nina’s house. He asks a student to help him cook the starch. While the student pours hot water over the wet lump of sago starch, he stirs it vigorously with a spoon.  All the students clap when it turns double in bulk.  Then, Pit Peng divides the students into groups of five and gives each group a pot of wet sago starch.  Under his meticulous guidance, every group is able to accomplish the task.

                Pit Peng takes out a few bowls of dipping sauce and distributed them to all groups.  He also gives candas to the students, which are chopstick-like bamboo sticks used for twirling up sago.  Many reluctant students squeal in delight when they sample it. Thrilled by the novelty of sago flavour, they launch successive attacks of candas into the pots of sago.  Very soon the pots become empty.

                “Did you enjoy today’s lesson?” asks Pit Peng.

                “Yes,” The students chorus happily.

                “I will tell my parents to buy sago,” chirps a Chinese girl.

                “I have learnt so much about the nature of sago, how its powder is extracted and most importantly, how delicious it is with the spicy sauce brought by Mr. Lim,” enthuses an Indian boy.

                “Teacher,” a girl named Lisa shouts. “You know so much about sago. Why don’t you take a Melanau girl as your wife?”

                A ripple of laughter passes through the students.

                Pit Peng clears his throat and says, “I am getting married end of next month.  My wife to be happens to be a Melanau.”

                The students break into jubilant cheers and clapping.

                “Congratulations, teacher!”

                “You can eat sago every day.”

                “Invite us to your wedding.”

                “How romantic!”

                Pit Peng’s face beams with happiness. He loves Lisa more and more with each passing day.  Their shared love of sago has strengthened their relationship.  He will never stop loving Nina, and nor will his tongue become jaded from eating sago.