Aunty, what do you eat? Ah Ee, Lu Chiak Hamik? — Invariably, there would always be one or several dishes that bequeath indelible remembrance in our lives. Recalling a childhood savoury, Madam Pang speaks of a home-cooked dish – scrambled eggs with sayur manis (树菜).The vegetable was occasionally picked from a nearby jungle when her parents returned from rubber-tapping. Another dish was stir fried taro petiole (芋莖, ōo-huâinn) with dried shrimps: “Its edible, don’t throw them away!”. While they also bred pigs, they were meant to be sold at the Air Itam market. The animals were never consumed as the money earned was necessary to cover living expenses as times were tough.

As I accompanied Madam Pang to her farm, she concedes that she can no longer savour childhood dishes. The landscape has since changed; rubber trees, sayur manis, taro have all been replaced by roses, bananas, and ambarella fruits, catering to the demand of Air Itam wet market. It is the same for the vegetables they grow. Recalling her teenage memories: “As we walk down the hill with vegetables over my shoulder, my father repeatedly turning his head and asked, can you manage? and I replied, yes! Aiyo, this is life living on the mountain.”

Trekking along until we arrived before a huge groove of bamboo. “My late husband would harvest bamboo shoots yearly and I was tasked to process them. Oh! I shredded it and cooked with dried shrimp and black pepper, or using it for my curry salted fish（咖厘咸鱼骨）…”

Memories flow like a runaway train; by the bamboo grove, bamboo shoot dishes were divulged one after another. From her glee, I could not ascertain if this is due to her love for bamboo or recollections of the many sweet memories of harvesting bamboos with her late husband.

Her love for bamboo prompted me to suggest documenting bamboo shoots. Embracing the suggestion, she asks for my return during the bamboo shoot harvesting season which would fall in June the coming year. Anxious over the exhibition in February, she reluctantly agreed after being probed on the possibility of sourcing bamboo shoots elsewhere for the demonstration.

In spite of her agreement, I could not avoid noting her ambivalence. Upon realising my negligence of the intricate harmony between human, palate and nature, and nature’s cherished offerings to mankind during its given seasons. Upon reflection, I realised that it was irrational to document something that was out of season, and felt a sense of remorse that I suggested taking bamboo shoots outside of the area for which she had pride of place. Taro available all year-round would have to be in the centre stage instead.

The Obliterated Silver Taro (银芋, Gîn ōo) — Madam Chong is exceptionally affectionate when speaking of the silver taro (keladi lambuk) petiole. As she was peeling the outer skin of the petiole, she says “Since the old days, gîn ōo would mushroom into thickets. Those dwelling in the mountain, especially with many mouths to feed would source for food available in abundance, such as this gîn ōo.”

True to her testimony, the spongy petiole (芋茎, ōo huâinn) of silver taro cooked with chilli, coconut milk, shallots and other condiments could turn into a Nyonya delicacy, most pleasurable with a bowls of rice; the treat for many children growing on the farm.

Neighbouring farmers agree with her, as they too, yearn for the bygone taste saying: “it is near to impossible to source for silver yam nowadays, lands are cleared for cultivating other crops. Oh, how I miss ōo huâinn gulai, it is really something money can’t buy.”

Sumptuous and exceptional Pinang Taro (槟榔芋，pinang ōo）— In addition to silver taro, pinang taro is considered as exceptional as it could be harvested only after eight months of cultivation. In addition, the constant threat of wild boars made many farmers give up and instead cultivate chillis that fetch better pricing and demand and could be harvested after a short 3 months.

Pinang taro is essential for taro soup, most loved by Madam Ching’s husband of Hokkien descent; its fragrance and texture where crushed black peppers are added is most comforting when savoured on chilly year-end days. During annual harvesting, she would cautiously select baby taro springing from the mother taro for new planting. In this way, she tenderly guarded her family’s palate.

Remembrance by Heart — After witnessing her culinary skills, I was determined to obtain some petiole for my own cooking. As though reading my mind, Madam Chong cautioned me: “Don’t simply eat any taro you see anywhere, not all ōo-huâinn is edible. Don’t blame me if you gatai (experience an itchy throat) !”.

Only petioles from silver taro and Pinang taro varieties are safe for consumption. Silver taro leaves and stems appear white in colour while the core of Pinang taro’s leaves have a red dot. I resolve to keep her sharing in my heart. Her knowledge on taro, their stories and wisdom must be remembered and inherited before it is forgotten.

So, what is the farmers’ palate?

It would be ingenuous to think that one could catch a glimpse of the life and the palate of farmers through these two dishes. As an interviewee said: “Those in the comfort of air-conditioned room will not understand the plight of the farmer.” Though it may appear supercilious, I concur with this statement as it is evident that those who have never tasted taro petiole will never be delighted by its exquisite flavours. Perhaps the following rhyme may shed some light into the life of farmers.