My love affair at midnight
I spent the night at the cafe, writing. I got home slightly past midnight and really craved a Ramly burger. Rather than drive, I decided I would walk out to the street-side stalls about 3 minutes from my place. Given the time of day, I thought it wise to empty my wallet of its cash and only brought 10 bucks with me.
Before I proceed on with the story, there is something you need to know about where we live. The people who live in our area, are generally quite well off. We got our house for a steal because the former owners took a real liking to us. So while we are not well to do, we live in an area that generally is.
Living across the street from where I live are those at the other end of the economic scale. Until quite recently, sprawled across the hillside close to our house, was a squatter community. They were evicted by a housing development company that had plans to build million dollar bungalows on the slope. The squatters have since been dispersed to the neighbouring area, Pantai Dalam. And some to the low cost residential dwellings across from us, low rise weather eaten flats with the leanest of amenities. The burger I craved was available in a broken down old shack at the base of these flats.
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never felt a little uncomfortable going to the stalls across the street. For one, I am almost always the only Chinese guy in a sea of Malay folk there. Secondly, I never seem to be able to dress down enough to fit in. I always try to dress plainly, not to avoid getting robbed, but to try my best not to incite any ill feeling from our contrasting circumstances. I liken it to the courtesy one shows to a starving person by not eating in front of him or her.
Tonight, I had my frayed jeans and my well worn khaki shirt on. I walked out to the store, and ordered my burger in as Melayu of an accent that my Chinese tongue could muscle. Unfortunately, I don’t think I even came close to hacking it with these guys because they speak a brand of Malay that you seldom even hear in the city. It’s the brand of Malay I hear my friend Vinod from Kampar speak.
I ordered a beef burger special, which is supposed to come with an egg. The guy tells me he is out of eggs… so I order a plain burger. But one of the burger guy’s helpers says has to get something from his flat, and brings down an egg for me.
I always love watching them prepare Ramly burgers. There’s a fixed technique that almost all Ramly burger sellers adhere to, to the point that I sometimes wonder if there is a Ramly burger training camp that teaches the craft. They crisp the patty on both sides, and then butterfly it with their spatula. Spreading the slit open, they spread the inside of the patty on the grill to get it crisp on the inside as well. They would then crack the egg on the hot grill and use the flat face of the spatula to spread it wide and thin. When the egg has vulcanised into a semi-solid state, they move the patty into the center of the egg wrap. They throw on a sprinkle of white pepper. Some Worcestershire sauce. Mayo. Chilli sauce. Some magic brown sauce. With the patty embalmed with their trademark condiments, they would then proceed to fold the egg around the beef patty. Wrapped like a mummy, they then transfer the patty onto a lightly toasted bun and dress it with grilled onions and more sauce.
As I tapped my feet waiting eagerly for my burger to be prepared, I noticed that almost everyone at the shack was in their flip flops, and I in my pair of Crocs. Worse still, I had a childish Friesian cow jibbitz fastened to the roof of my Crocs. I suddenly felt conscious and out of place again. I paid for the burger once it got into my possession, and hurried home.
I was really eager to sink my teeth into my delectable midnight snack. So when I got home I hurriedly undressed my burger, with the same urgency of a guy unzipping his pants in the loo after downing 12 beers. I took a bite and my eyes forced shut as the flavour lathered the insides of my mouth. In that moment, I felt a sudden oneness with the burger seller. I felt that the walls that once stood between us had crumbled to form the common ground on which we both stood. It was at that moment that I realised, that whilst we both spoke different tongues, we shared the exact same taste.