Terubok and Eggs

Salted Chinese Herring or Terubok

In 1956 we moved from Pulau Kerto to Sibu, thus becoming "Town People",

My grandfather built a special Foochow stove for us, in the kitchen which faced the east. It must have been well planned according to the right geomancy.

The huge kuali sat on the left, and my mother, a left hander, had to scoop the cleaning water from the kuali using her right hand, and threw it out through the small opening made for that purpose.

The two burners for the kettle and the rice pot were on the right. My grandfather had cut two round holes for them and the metal plate was of good material. My father kept them clean at all times, and well oiled.

My grandfather's Foochow stove gave us a smoke free kitchen, the envy of many relatives, because he was a very skilful builder. The stove never cracked although he did come to repair it in the last year of his life. It was just a small crack but he carefully repaired it and gave it a new coat of paint. The construction of a good Foochow stove was a no mean feat.

In fact, though I never realized it then, a big Foochow stove was a status symbol.

We remember how my father would bake (pangang) terubok or Chinese herring on the metal plate (without the help of banana leaves). The aroma of the cooking fish on the plate, heated by smouldering ambers,was so good that we were all sitting on the stair case, patiently waiting for dinner.

My mother on the other hand was an expert in frying fish and fish eggs. Her fried fish would always have its skin intact, never over done or charred . And our huge kuali was not non stick. 

In those days non stick pans had not appeared in the market. When it did appear, my mother did not want to spend any money on one because she was frugal and she had the special kuali skills.

The Chinese herring has a lot of bones but we were well trained and were able to spit out the bones easily. Most Chinese, like us, are experts in deboning the fish in our mouth, quick to separate the flesh from the bones. Today, most children and even youth do not like bony fish. They do not know what they miss.

The crunchy sides of the terubok, the well roasted fish scales and the sweet flesh from the wood stove gave our taste buds a wonderful gourmet adventure. The sweet taste of the fish in our mouth would remain for a long time.

The fish roe in those days were free with the female fish. My father was good at choosing fish and was often lucky to get the huge fish eggs which my mother would gently and patiently fry in the big kuali.

Very often the mains of our dinner were the hot plate sizzling Chinese herring and the simple fried fish eggs. Our dinner would also include fried kang kong or cangkok manis and a simple soup. All the vegetables would come from our own backyard.

I have not eaten a terubok for more than 10 years now. But the memory of the aroma of the fish  sizzling on a hot plate gives my mind lovely pictures of those long ago days, with the sun rays coming through the slats as the evening sun set on the west. That is a strong image of my parents' kitchen from more than 60 years ago.

At the time of writing, fresh terubok costs RM 60 per kg, in Miri.