Kampung Bound - Part 1

THE LOWS AND HIGHS OF HOSTING A DINNER PARTY IN MALAYSIA

May 12, 2008

This past weekend I decided to play dinner host to my 'adopted family' here in Kuala Lumpur. With us leaving in just a week for our village adventure, I thought it would be nice to have one last hoorah with my friends. I had actually considered hosting a party for everyone we know in KL but these past few weeks proved to be too busy for me to do any planning so I bagged the idea. I am glad I did too because planning a family dinner party strained my organizing capabilities to the fullest. Of course, the strain from trying to host a small get together was especially huge because I was trying to plan something with Malays in Malaysia! It did work out great in the end. Ben even turned to me after everyone left and said 'that was soo much fun'. But I think the whole story is worth telling, if for nothing other than making all you party planners at home appreciate how easy you've got it. Although I have to admit once they arrive, Malays do make some of the most enjoyable guests.

So it started with an idea, an sms, and a quick enthusiastic reply - 'hey, Yati (Yati is a pretty close friend and the oldest daughter in the family) I was thinking about having your family over for dinner on Sunday night, are you free?' 'Oh, fun. We can go shopping before hand and cook together! Definitely, let's have a dinner party.'

At first, I was a little concerned about her response. I had planned to have a 'proper' dinner party. I would plan the menu, cook, and everyone would come over and eat. I figured I would make fajitas with chips and salsa for starters and a fruit pizza for dessert. It was an easy meal to cook but contained ingredients everyone was used to eating. Seemed like an okay idea.

However, I was admittedly nervous about cooking for the whole family since in my experience Malays are pretty conservative eaters. They will graciously eat anything you offer (it is absolutely the biggest insult to not at least taste what your host serves you) but tend to be pretty loyal to their style of cooking. KFC, McDonald's and Pizza Hut do great here because they put crack in their food, which is apparently universally addictive, but rice, curry, and fried noodles are the preferred standards. Yati has actually told me that her biggest concern about traveling abroad is the food. Add to this a persistent worry over whether the food is halal and you feel like a chef cooking for the most discerning of gourmets.

So with just a few minutes of reflection, Yati's suggestion started to grow on me. If she helped me choose the ingredients and cook the meal, the pressure to please would be lessened quite a bit. Plus, it could double as my first Malaysian cooking lesson. A double bonus. I was sold and smsed her mom to invite the rest of the family. I received a quick response from her as well, she said 'as long as the food is delicious and halal, they will come'. I assured her that with Yati's help it all would be and we were set for dinner at my place on Sunday night post Maghrib (7:30-8ish).

So far so good, right? It was only Sunday when things began to breakdown. It started with a call in the morning to Yati to find out when we should meet to go shopping. We were actually planning on shopping for books first but she had gotten sidetracked and was in the middle of getting her haircut instead. Now this might seem the epitome of rude to all of you but I am used to it. It is the Malaysian way. Never make plans in advance and if you do never expect them things to go as planned. Seriously, I have learned that you have better luck calling five minutes before you want to go to dinner, a movie, shopping, etc. than if you worked something out days before. Understanding this and doing this are two different things though and I, apparently, am a glutton for punishment because I keep trying to do it the American way. Yati, on the other hand, does things the Malaysian way and said she would call me when she was finished. Since it was early, I shrugged my shoulders and felt a little relieved that I would have a few more hours to get the house cleaned and straightened up for the party.

By about 3PM, the house was clean and ready but I had still not heard back from Yati. I called her again and was assured that she and her sister would pick me up SOON. At about 3:30, they still had not arrived and Ben was getting antsy. He was certain they would never arrive. I figured at 4PM I would start to pester them but we were still okay on time. At 4:30PM, I did finally hear from them but only to tell me they were running a little late and they would call me when they were downstairs. Ergh... now I was getting a little antsy. It was starting to look like I would be making a Western meal for a family of finicky Malays after all. I tried to be patient and just wait but at 5:15 I could take no more and said to hell with it, I am getting in a taxi and going by myself. I sent the girls a message and was off. They responded as if this was a perfect change in plans ( I can only imagine that they were engrossed in some TV drama at the time) and told me to call when I got home and they would come over and help cook.

I raced through the grocery store, grabbing all the fixings for fajitas, and made it back home a little past 6:30PM. Ben was right, we were going to be cutting it close but what he did not count on was that he was going to end up being my assistant cook not Yati. At this point, I figured it was just easier if he and I reverted to my original plan. So I called Yati and let them off the hook and we got to work preparing our Americanized Mexican meal. We worked fast and somehow by 7:30 all was set for our friends' arrival.

Now, we were not naive enough to think that they would arrive before 8PM. I mean post-Maghrib is a pretty vague time and we are in Malaysia so we were plenty prepared to relax and wait for their arrival. But guess what time they arrived - 9:15. Now that is fashionably late. But they are not the latest guests we've ever had, that title actually goes to the two Americans who arrived to our Christmas dinner about 4 hours late!! Anyway, the gang was all here and I kid you not, the stress ended as they walked through the door. That is the trade off, I guess, lots of extra anxiety before the event but none whatsoever during their visit.

Seriously, as I think we have mentioned before, Malays have an incredible knack for making themselves at home, which actually takes all the pressure off the host. They come in sit down (on the floor), pour themselves drinks, get to work in the kitchen, and basically, take over. Within five minutes of arriving, it is like they live here. At one point, I came in from the kitchen and found Ben dressed up in one of Hamidon's newest creations, posing for my camera, which someone had picked up without a thought about asking to use it. After dinner, the dishes were washed before we could even get to them and the whole family sat down to play UNO, without any word from Ben nor I. The only thing we were needed for was to demonstrate how to eat the dinner we prepared.

I had not realized ahead of time what a unique experience this was for Hamidon's family. Yati summed it up by saying - 'this is so cool. A real mat saleh (white person) cooking us real Western food'. They had never eaten fajitas or heard of them for that matter. The closest thing they could associate fajitas with were 'turn overs' at KFC. So eating dinner was an actual event. We had to have Ben demonstrate how to build a fajita - a mistake actually since he adds everything in heaping spoonfuls, including beans and rice and Malays are literal students, so there were many ailing full bellies at the end of the night- and how to eat a fajita. Getting it right was a serious business for the whole family and everyone spent the meal laughing and gloating about their successes and failures.

In the end, the highs definitely outweighed the lows and we went to bed Sunday feeling pretty good about our prospects in the kampung. If getting along with everyone is even half that easy in Kuala Mai, we are going to do just fine.