(04-12-2007)
Batik chic: Models showcase designs during a batik competition in Kuala Lumpur. — VNS Photo Hoai Nam
KUALA LUMPUR — Striking a balance between fashion and tradition, designers Lucas Lim Boon Leong and Zoe Tan Been Ting bagged first prize at the grand finale of the Piala Seri Endon batik design competition on Sunday.
The annual contest, held at the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre, was attended by Her Majesty Seri Paduka Baginda Raja Permaisuri Agong and representatives of event organiser Yayasan Budi Penyayang.
The duo pocketed a cash prize of 30,000 Ringgit (US$8,942) for their collection during a ceremony that marked the culmination of the week-long event celebrating the traditional Malaysian technique of dyeing fabric using removable wax.
"We are so happy to win the fashion contest today. Our collection muses on the daily life of the people and the part of it that is batik arts. I want to make a new batik style with a new design," Lucas says.
Batik will create a bridge between commercial and traditional arts because it can only be done by hand and takes a lot of time, the young designer says.
"I spent four years studying the art and three months making my ideas come to life in my garments. It’s very difficult to make batik a commodity when people need high quality and special products."
Organisers also presented prizes for the soft furnishing and handicraft designs on display at the exhibition centre.
All the winners’ designs will go on show at Galeri Seri Endon in Kuala Lumpur.
The competition aims to encourage new ideas in batik design to promote batik products to the global market.
This is the fifth year Malaysia has held the design contest. — VNS
Sunday, 6 April 2008
Saturday, 5 April 2008
Dining Out
Taste the rainbow: Vietnamese che may be as pretty to look at as it is fun to eat, and a near-perfect concoction to boot. Find the nearest storefront and point to the most colourful thing on the menu. It’s that easy. — VNS Photos Aaron Joel Santos
Pop a squat: A vendor dishes up iced che to parched shoppers on Hang Be Street. — VNS Photo Truong Vi
(30-03-2008)
Sweet diversion on Ha Noi’s sidewalks
Aaron Joel Santos took his insatiable sweet tooth on a tour of the capital to sample every variety of its favourite dessert. Four hours later, full to the brim, he returned home with a new appreciation for the inimitable che.
There shouldn’t be anything appetising about a glass of amorphous globs punctuated by colourful squirms and squiggles. Yet Vietnamese che manages to subvert food psychology and bring to the masses a dessert equal parts modern art and simple, sincere goodness.
It’s the perfect blend of earthy pastes and thick beans with sugary fruits and jellies. And at its best it’s a testament to everything exuberant about Vietnamese cuisine, by turns inventive and utilitarian depending on your vendor, and as much about unique clashes of flavour as it is steeped in basic recipes and tradition.
In short, che is Viet Nam’s premiere dessert happening. It’s a glimpse into what life would be like if the gum kids picked from beneath bleachers tasted like sweet rain forest water, or if the slick sea weeds that washed ashore were covered in rainbow-coloured candy shells.
Everything and more
Much of che’s genius lies in its inherent plainness. It doesn’t strive to be exquisite and is comfortable on a creaky stool, carried along in a pink bag or slurped through a cafe’s dented tin spoon. It comes hot, cold, crunchy, chewy and never without a certain charisma. In Viet Nam, che is Everyman’s dessert, by turns universally appealing and able to offer itself up as something one-of-a-kind, worth searching the city’s nooks and crannies for.
And while it would be impossible to assign best-of status to any one che in Ha Noi, a near-perfect introduction to this choice beverage can be found at Quan An Ngon on Phan Boi Chau Street, just southwest of the Old Quarter. Here, the che suong sa hat luu serves as a good starting point; it’s just the right mix of sweet and semi-savoury. It’s brimming with colour and comes with almost everything but the kitchen sink in a tall, ice-filled glass. Hat luu refers to the drink’s crunchy-then-soft mock pomegranate seeds. The menu offers up several other varieties, both hot and cold, so it’s worth bringing friends to sample more than just one.
Another favourite stop (which scores extra points for being just steps away from the renowned Bun Bo Nam Bo) is thach che loc tai, at 63 Hang Dieu Street. This is kind of like the Mel’s Diner of Ha Noi’s che scene, with large neon and pastel menus posted on the walls tempting customers through dozens of different flavour options. Here, the che chuoi, with fresh grilled bananas swimming in warm ambrosial coconut milk and tapioca, finished with a scattering of smashed peanuts, comes highly though not exclusively recommended.
For a different take on things, move south a few shops to find another che vendor sitting in the doorway behind her wares. She happens to have the best che nep cam I’ve yet had the pleasure of tasting. This uncanny beverage, composed of black rice fermented in local spirits and a few large tapioca pearls, then finished off with a dash of coconut milk, easily quashes its more pungent competitors.
Elsewhere in the city, number 8 Hai Ba Trung Street spreads outward with boys and girls all hunched over and huddled around low tables throughout the day. Here the che hoa qua reigns supreme, with a veritable cornucopia of textures and tastes, from crisp watermelon and dragonfruit pieces to thick taro cubes and sticky tapioca pearls, all held together by a liquid that tastes remarkably like strawberries and cream.
Go forth
Of course there are hundreds of places to have che across Ha Noi, and sometimes the best cup or glass comes when you least expect it. Remember, che’s appeal lies not in its lofty stature, but rather in its ability to entice anyone with five minutes to spare. And with this in mind, I offer up a few starting points, some places to find nice, no frills cupfuls whenever you’re in the neighbourhood.
To begin, number 14 Phan Huy Chu Street serves up a variety of great, simple glasses, while 37 H2 Nguyen Cong Tru Street, within the market, spoons sugar-heavy heaps to eat-in or take away. On Hue Street, near and within the fabric market, a number of women stake their claims, as well as on Bach Mai and Le Van Huu streets.
In the end, che remains indicative of everything weird and wonderful about Viet Nam. It’s strange at first but warms on you quickly, and it can even feel a bit slapped together at times, as the vendor ladles near-endless amounts of colourful jellies and viscous liquids into your glass. But then of course when you taste it you realise it was all for a reason. And it’s everywhere. Just walk out your door. There. — VNS
Pop a squat: A vendor dishes up iced che to parched shoppers on Hang Be Street. — VNS Photo Truong Vi
(30-03-2008)
Sweet diversion on Ha Noi’s sidewalks
Aaron Joel Santos took his insatiable sweet tooth on a tour of the capital to sample every variety of its favourite dessert. Four hours later, full to the brim, he returned home with a new appreciation for the inimitable che.
There shouldn’t be anything appetising about a glass of amorphous globs punctuated by colourful squirms and squiggles. Yet Vietnamese che manages to subvert food psychology and bring to the masses a dessert equal parts modern art and simple, sincere goodness.
It’s the perfect blend of earthy pastes and thick beans with sugary fruits and jellies. And at its best it’s a testament to everything exuberant about Vietnamese cuisine, by turns inventive and utilitarian depending on your vendor, and as much about unique clashes of flavour as it is steeped in basic recipes and tradition.
In short, che is Viet Nam’s premiere dessert happening. It’s a glimpse into what life would be like if the gum kids picked from beneath bleachers tasted like sweet rain forest water, or if the slick sea weeds that washed ashore were covered in rainbow-coloured candy shells.
Everything and more
Much of che’s genius lies in its inherent plainness. It doesn’t strive to be exquisite and is comfortable on a creaky stool, carried along in a pink bag or slurped through a cafe’s dented tin spoon. It comes hot, cold, crunchy, chewy and never without a certain charisma. In Viet Nam, che is Everyman’s dessert, by turns universally appealing and able to offer itself up as something one-of-a-kind, worth searching the city’s nooks and crannies for.
And while it would be impossible to assign best-of status to any one che in Ha Noi, a near-perfect introduction to this choice beverage can be found at Quan An Ngon on Phan Boi Chau Street, just southwest of the Old Quarter. Here, the che suong sa hat luu serves as a good starting point; it’s just the right mix of sweet and semi-savoury. It’s brimming with colour and comes with almost everything but the kitchen sink in a tall, ice-filled glass. Hat luu refers to the drink’s crunchy-then-soft mock pomegranate seeds. The menu offers up several other varieties, both hot and cold, so it’s worth bringing friends to sample more than just one.
Another favourite stop (which scores extra points for being just steps away from the renowned Bun Bo Nam Bo) is thach che loc tai, at 63 Hang Dieu Street. This is kind of like the Mel’s Diner of Ha Noi’s che scene, with large neon and pastel menus posted on the walls tempting customers through dozens of different flavour options. Here, the che chuoi, with fresh grilled bananas swimming in warm ambrosial coconut milk and tapioca, finished with a scattering of smashed peanuts, comes highly though not exclusively recommended.
For a different take on things, move south a few shops to find another che vendor sitting in the doorway behind her wares. She happens to have the best che nep cam I’ve yet had the pleasure of tasting. This uncanny beverage, composed of black rice fermented in local spirits and a few large tapioca pearls, then finished off with a dash of coconut milk, easily quashes its more pungent competitors.
Elsewhere in the city, number 8 Hai Ba Trung Street spreads outward with boys and girls all hunched over and huddled around low tables throughout the day. Here the che hoa qua reigns supreme, with a veritable cornucopia of textures and tastes, from crisp watermelon and dragonfruit pieces to thick taro cubes and sticky tapioca pearls, all held together by a liquid that tastes remarkably like strawberries and cream.
Go forth
Of course there are hundreds of places to have che across Ha Noi, and sometimes the best cup or glass comes when you least expect it. Remember, che’s appeal lies not in its lofty stature, but rather in its ability to entice anyone with five minutes to spare. And with this in mind, I offer up a few starting points, some places to find nice, no frills cupfuls whenever you’re in the neighbourhood.
To begin, number 14 Phan Huy Chu Street serves up a variety of great, simple glasses, while 37 H2 Nguyen Cong Tru Street, within the market, spoons sugar-heavy heaps to eat-in or take away. On Hue Street, near and within the fabric market, a number of women stake their claims, as well as on Bach Mai and Le Van Huu streets.
In the end, che remains indicative of everything weird and wonderful about Viet Nam. It’s strange at first but warms on you quickly, and it can even feel a bit slapped together at times, as the vendor ladles near-endless amounts of colourful jellies and viscous liquids into your glass. But then of course when you taste it you realise it was all for a reason. And it’s everywhere. Just walk out your door. There. — VNS
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