On the bridge to the north of an old Padang hotel, a group of vendors sell early evening snacks of sweet corn and roast banana. The corn is grilled over charcoal until the tops of the kernels turn dusty black. Then the vendor hands the ear to her assistant (sous chef?) and she drenches it fast in a drying salt water and a whisk or two more of butter. The results are glorious and crunchy.
What deliciousness! In which we hop a ride on the Radio Magnetic audio rocket—produced with tremendous bravery by me, you will hear what I mean—to Padang in North Sumatra, Indonesia where we eat our hearts, minds and stomachs out. Padang food you are the keeper of my soul.