Watch her cook laksa

My mum would get some laksa from her stall after finishing her task at the morning wet market. We used to wait for our turn. We watched her preparing bowls of laksa while waiting and the steamy spicy fragrant always preserved our patience in the queue. Her laksa always reminded me the desire of hunger. In short, each mouthful of the laksa teases my taste.

There was no hurry. There was no urge to move fast in waiting for the delicious laksa because the car parking was free. It was easy to find vacant parking lots even as late as noon. The lady was in her teens presumably and I was younger than her. Carrying my mum’s bakul in one hand and holding her hand in another, I took short glimpses of the sweet laksa lady.

This morning, I have a bowl of her laksa again on a small marble table and enjoyed a cup of special brewed coffee. The taugeh is tender, the taupok is chewy, the egg fresh, the soup lazat, and before I knew further, the bee hoon is finished eaten.

Rather not to go further for not inducing watery mouth, the writing stop here. Go for it yourself.