Marketing in Malaysia

The markets of Kota Kinabalu stretch along the seashore of the city, with the back side of the market buildings adjoining the shore directly. Many goods are brought by boat the great market spaces. The markets are at once a tourist attraction and a place for everyday people to buy fresh food. The narrow and slightly claustrophobic aisles are filled with every sort of fruit and vegetable imaginable, from the run-of-the-mill and dime-a-dozen mangos, papayas, and mangosteens to the exotic and dear apple and grape. Other sections sell chickens, fish, and other kinds of meat packed in buckets of ice or, in some cases, displayed on bloody cardboard. Here and there, batik shirts, printer cartridges, and car parts can be found. Around a few corners, a shop keeper or a small child of a shopkeeper stretches out for an afternoon nap. 

tiny calamansi limes, ginger root, and chili peppers

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of the market is its smell. After a mention of bloody cardboard, it may seem that I mean this in a negative way. There are indeed a few less-than-pleasant smells. But the dominant elements in the air are the saltiness of fresh ocean fish, the different sort of saltiness of the many fermented fish products that are essential to Southeast Asian cooking, and the heavenly smell of piles of tree-ripe mangos. 

Various dried, fermented fish products

All the key elements of Southeast Asian cookery are here: the varied sizes and shapes of onions, garlic, and shallots (with each size, shape, and color seemingly having its own Malay word). More kinds and colors of ginger root than I can count. Dried and fermented fish, crabs, shrimp in many forms. Innumerable types of greens. Fragrant mint, cilantro, basil, and many other herbs whose names I do not know. Chili peppers ranging from nearly foot-long red ones to tiny little green ones less than an inch long. Blocks of palm sugar. Every size and shape of squash. The tiny little limes that garnish just about any dish. All of these things come together to join the four key tastes of Southeast Asia -- sweet and salty, sour and spicy -- each of which must be properly balanced in truly good cooking. 

bananas and squash

Upstairs is a sort of food court where the smell of hot frying oil, garlic, and (again!) fermented fish hangs over the room. One stall offered 35 different versions of noodles, while another offered a couple dozen variations on fried rice. Still others ladled up rich and pungent coconut-based curries. Fresh juice of the type that is nearly impossible to find in North America was on offer for a few cents. Coconuts the size of my head, fresh from the forest, were the seeming beverage of choice. For those not wishing to take on the entire coconut (a family-sized job), a cup of fresh coconut water was for sale for one Malaysian Ringgit (about 30 cents). 

While I enjoy Southeast Asian food in most of its form, it is the beverages that bring me the greatest joy. While I appreciate the coconut water, it is the fresh lemonade that is my favorite. Rather than simply squeeze the juice from the lemon or lime, the peeled fruit is often ground up in a large blender, giving a much more substantial drink with bits of ground-up seed giving a surprisingly nice and slightly crunchy finish. No day in Malaysia would be complete without a cup of "teh tarik," the national beverage, made of strong tea and condensed milk assembled in a complex process and served (like most drinks, including some juices) either hot or cold.

You didn't have to walk but a few blocks from this enormous market to find a well-stocked supermarket. Yet it was clear, even in the slower latter part of the market day, where Kota Kinabalu residents prefer to shop. 

An aisle of the market