Malaysian food bowls me over, so I’ve been recreating those extraordinary sweet, sour and hot flavours at home
One of the reasons I live in London, despite knowing that the grass is much greener beyond the M25, is that I can travel anywhere in the world through the city’s food. Within a 10-minute walk of home, I can be eating bouncy, hand-pulled noodles from the northern Chinese province of Xinjiang, smoky aubergines cooked over coals by Anatolian Turks, or Nigerian fried yam.
In many cases, I’ve not been to the country in question, but even so, a dish can evoke a sense of place and transport you there, no matter how many buses are whizzing past outside. Good food from an unknown place does a far better job than any tourist board ad ever could: it draws me in and makes me want to go.
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