malaysia national food的八卦，Yahoo名人娛樂都在討論

Tomorrow we will be celebrating our first ever Hari Sukan Negara (national sports day). We are expecting millions of Malaysians to come together and sweat it out across the country in our quest to become a sporting nation. From iconic events with thousands of participants in the cities to community futsal tournaments in the kampungs, the whole country will be burning our collective calories and taking our first step towards becoming healthier and fitter nation.

So why have a national sports day in the first place? The cynics have pointed out that one day a year won’t change anything. We are still rubbish at football. Sporting standards are, at best, inconsistent. Surely, that should be a priority for the sports ministry instead of getting people to work out on one day.

Sure we are concerned about high performance sports. That remains a priority for my ministry and all stakeholders involved in sports. But sports is not just about elite athletes who we want to see on international podiums. An equally crucial component of our national sports policy is sports for all – for the ordinary person. And this is where creating a sporting nation comes in.

Malaysians’ rate of participation in sports and physical activities barely makes it past 40%. In sporting nations like Australia, Japan and the UK, it is more than 60%. When our rate of participation is low, sports does not become part of our culture and lifestyle. I have always said that Malaysians love our sports. We are a nation of great sports fans, sport critics, but we are nowhere near to being a sporting nation.

This hampers our performance at the highest levels. When there is no sporting culture, the talent base shrinks. It becomes difficult to find the next Chong Weis, Nicols, Pandelelas and Azizuls because not enough kids are playing sports. When there is no sporting culture, parents discourage their children from developing their interest and talent. Getting more Malaysians active creates a virtuous cycle that can lift sports at the grassroots level and fill the talent pipeline with more budding stars of the future.

Sports is not just about finding the next world champion. It is also about making Malaysia healthier. We top the charts regionally in many non-communicable diseases like obesity, diabetes and heart disease. If we don’t do anything about this today, we will pay for it in the future not just through deteriorating health but also billions of Ringgit in increased public health expenditure to treat diseases that could largely have been avoided by living a healthier life.

When we become healthier we become more productive and happy. Many of us know the feeling of wanting to seize the day after a workout releases positive endorphins and gets our hearts beating faster.

Imagine everyone around us with the same positive buzz and energy.
Also at a time when we seem to be disagreeing about so much, sports is the one thing (apart from food, ironically!) that can bring us together. When we cheer our sports stars, we are Malaysia. When we run in a marathon side by side, we are Malaysians. Sports straddles all divides and brings us together as a nation and as a people.

The national sports day celebrates all of this. It may just be one day, but it is a symbolic date where we remind ourselves of the power of sports. To inspire, to heal, and to unite.

Of course, many of you will be thinking “what about the haze?” Although we want the inaugural national sports day to be a success, the health of Malaysians is far more important. A guideline has been issued to all organisers on the haze for events to be canceled if the API reading in the area goes past 150. Areas with lower readings can proceed as planned.

Discounting the recent unfortunate weather, we have been building up the momentum towards national sports day over the last year. Through our FitMalaysia campaign, we have seen hundreds and thousands of Malaysians, many of whom seldom exercise, come out across the country to try and live healthier lives through fitness and sports. Sports enthusiasts, couch potatoes, senior citizens, kids, the differently-abled community get moving side by side while responding to our call to arms for them to become better versions of themselves.

Friends have been challenging each other through exercise videos over the last two weeks to get in shape for national sports day. Members of Parliament took part in a step challenge to see who could log in the highest average daily steps with the winner getting a grant to organise activities in their constituency on national sports day. Sports stores have joined the bandwagon with special sales across the country. People were getting free LRT tickets by performing simple exercises at selected stations. Sporting fever has truly reached every corner of society. Even inmates have asked the Prisons Department if they can organise a sports tournament on national sports day.

There will be 16,000 events and activities held across the country tomorrow. You can either join these structured events or just get together with family and friends for a game of badminton or a slow jog around the neighbourhood. It does not matter where you are or if you can make it to any official activities. What’s more important is that you sweat it out tomorrow, wherever you are.

So what are you waiting for? Get your game on and join me and millions of other Malaysians tomorrow in our first step towards becoming a sporting nation.

Visit www.harisukannegara.my for more information on National Sports Day.

【《金融時報》深度長訪】

今年做過數百外媒訪問，若要說最能反映我思緒和想法的訪問，必然是《金融時報》的這一個，沒有之一。

在排山倒海的訪問裡，這位記者能在短短個半小時裡，刻畫得如此傳神，值得睇。

Joshua Wong plonks himself down on a plastic stool across from me. He is there for barely 10 seconds before he leaps up to greet two former high school classmates in the lunchtime tea house melee. He says hi and bye and then bounds back. Once again I am facing the young man in a black Chinese collared shirt and tan shorts who is proving such a headache for the authorities in Beijing.

So far, it’s been a fairly standard week for Wong. On a break from a globe-trotting, pro-democracy lobbying tour, he was grabbed off the streets of Hong Kong and bundled into a minivan. After being arrested, he appeared on the front pages of the world’s newspapers and was labelled a “traitor” by China’s foreign ministry.

He is very apologetic about being late for lunch.

Little about Wong, the face of Hong Kong’s democracy movement, can be described as ordinary: neither his Nobel Peace Prize nomination, nor his three stints in prison. Five years ago, his face was plastered on the cover of Time magazine; in 2017, he was the subject of a hit Netflix documentary, Joshua: Teenager vs Superpower. And he’s only 23.

We’re sitting inside a Cantonese teahouse in the narrow back streets near Hong Kong’s parliament, where he works for a pro-democracy lawmaker. It’s one of the most socially diverse parts of the city and has been at the heart of five months of unrest, which has turned into a battle for Hong Kong’s future. A few weekends earlier I covered clashes nearby as protesters threw Molotov cocktails at police, who fired back tear gas. Drunk expats looked on, as tourists rushed by dragging suitcases.

The lunch crowd pours into the fast-food joint, milling around as staff set up collapsible tables on the pavement. Construction workers sit side-by-side with men sweating in suits, chopsticks in one hand, phones in the other. I scan the menu: instant noodles with fried egg and luncheon meat, deep fried pork chops, beef brisket with radish. Wong barely glances at it before selecting the hometown fried rice and milk tea, a Hong Kong speciality with British colonial roots, made with black tea and evaporated or condensed milk.

“I always order this,” he beams, “I love this place, it’s the only Cantonese teahouse in the area that does cheap, high-quality milk tea.” I take my cue and settle for the veggie and egg fried rice and a lemon iced tea as the man sitting on the next table reaches over to shake Wong’s hand. Another pats him on the shoulder as he brushes by to pay the bill.

Wong has been a recognisable face in this city since he was 14, when he fought against a proposal from the Hong Kong government to introduce a national education curriculum that would teach that Chinese Communist party rule was “superior” to western-style democracy. The government eventually backed down after more than 100,000 people took to the streets. Two years later, Wong rose to global prominence when he became the poster boy for the Umbrella Movement, in which tens of thousands of students occupied central Hong Kong for 79 days to demand genuine universal suffrage.

That movement ended in failure. Many of its leaders were sent to jail, among them Wong. But the seeds of activism were planted in the generation of Hong Kongers who are now back on the streets, fighting for democracy against the world’s most powerful authoritarian state. The latest turmoil was sparked by a controversial extradition bill but has evolved into demands for true suffrage and a showdown with Beijing over the future of Hong Kong. The unrest in the former British colony, which was handed over to China in 1997, represents the biggest uprising on Chinese soil since the 1989 pro-democracy movement in Beijing. Its climax, of course, was the Tiananmen Square massacre, when hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were killed.

“We learnt a lot of lessons from the Umbrella Movement: how to deal with conflict between the more moderate and progressive camps, how to be more organic, how to be less hesitant,” says Wong. “Five years ago the pro-democracy camp was far more cautious about seeking international support because they were afraid of pissing off Beijing.”

Wong doesn’t appear to be afraid of irking China. Over the past few months, he has lobbied on behalf of the Hong Kong protesters to governments around the world. In the US, he testified before Congress and urged lawmakers to pass an act in support of the Hong Kong protesters — subsequently approved by the House of Representatives with strong bipartisan support. In Germany, he made headlines when he suggested two baby pandas in the Berlin Zoo be named “Democracy” and “Freedom.” He has been previously barred from entering Malaysia and Thailand due to pressure from Beijing, and a Singaporean social worker was recently convicted and fined for organising an event at which Wong spoke via Skype.

The food arrives almost immediately. I struggle to tell our orders apart. Two mouthfuls into my egg and cabbage fried rice, I regret not ordering the instant noodles with luncheon meat.

In August, a Hong Kong newspaper controlled by the Chinese Communist party published a photo of Julie Eadeh, an American diplomat, meeting pro-democracy student leaders including Wong. The headline accused “foreign forces” of igniting a revolution in Hong Kong. “Beijing says I was trained by the CIA and the US marines and I am a CIA agent. [I find it] quite boring because they have made up these kinds of rumours for seven years [now],” he says, ignoring his incessantly pinging phone.

Another thing that bores him? The media. Although Wong’s messaging is always on point, his appraisal of journalists in response to my questions is piercing and cheeky. “In 15-minute interviews I know journalists just need soundbites that I’ve repeated lots of times before. So I’ll say things like ‘I have no hope [as regards] the regime but I have hope towards the people.’ Then the journalists will say ‘oh that’s so impressive!’ And I’ll say ‘yes, I’m a poet.’ ”

And what about this choice of restaurant? “Well, I knew I couldn’t pick a five-star hotel, even though the Financial Times is paying and I know you can afford it,” he says grinning. “It’s better to do this kind of interview in a Hong Kong-style restaurant. This is the place that I conducted my first interview after I left prison.” Wong has spent around 120 days in prison in total, including on charges of unlawful assembly.

“My fellow prisoners would tell me about how they joined the Umbrella Movement and how they agreed with our beliefs. I think prisoners are more aware of the importance of human rights,” he says, adding that even the prison wardens would share with him how they had joined protests.

“Even the triad members in prison support democracy. They complain how the tax on cigarettes is extremely high and the tax on red wine is extremely low; it just shows how the upper-class elite lives here,” he says, as a waiter strains to hear our conversation. Wong was most recently released from jail in June, the day after the largest protests in the history of Hong Kong, when an estimated 2m people — more than a quarter of the territory’s 7.5m population — took to the streets.

Raised in a deeply religious family, he used to travel to mainland China every two years with his family and church literally to spread the gospel. As with many Hong Kong Chinese who trace their roots to the mainland, he doesn’t know where his ancestral village is. His lasting memory of his trips across the border is of dirty toilets, he tells me, mid-bite. He turned to activism when he realised praying didn’t help much.

“The gift from God is to have independence of mind and critical thinking; to have our own will and to make our own personal judgments. I don’t link my religious beliefs with my political judgments. Even Carrie Lam is Catholic,” he trails off, in a reference to Hong Kong’s leader. Lam has the lowest approval rating of any chief executive in the history of the city, thanks to her botched handling of the crisis.

I ask whether Wong’s father, who is also involved in social activism, has been a big influence. Wrong question.

“The western media loves to frame Joshua Wong joining the fight because of reading the books of Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King or because of how my parents raised me. In reality, I joined street activism not because of anyone book I read. Why do journalists always assume anyone who strives for a better society has a role model?” He glances down at his pinging phone and draws a breath, before continuing. “Can you really describe my dad as an activist? I support LGBTQ rights,” he says, with a fist pump. His father, Roger Wong, is a well-known anti-gay rights campaigner in Hong Kong.

I notice he has put down his spoon, with half a plate of fried rice untouched. I decide it would be a good idea to redirect our conversation by bonding over phone addictions. Wong, renowned for his laser focus and determination, replies to my emails and messages at all hours and has been described by his friends as “a robot.”

He scrolls through his Gmail, his inbox filled with unread emails, showing me how he categorises interview requests with country tags. His life is almost solely dedicated to activism. “My friends and I used to go to watch movies and play laser tag but now of course we don’t have time to play any more: we face real bullets every weekend.”

The protests — which have seen more than 3,300 people arrested — have been largely leaderless. “Do you ever question your relevance to the movement?” I venture, mid-spoonful of congealed fried rice.

“Never,” he replies with his mouth full. “We have a lot of facilitators in this movement and I’m one of them . . . it’s just like Wikipedia. You don’t know who the contributors are behind a Wikipedia page but you know there’s a lot of collaboration and crowdsourcing. Instead of just having a top-down command, we now have a bottom-up command hub which has allowed the movement to last far longer than Umbrella.

“With greater power comes greater responsibility, so the question is how, through my role, can I express the voices of the frontliners, of the street activism? For example, I defended the action of storming into the Legislative Council on July 1. I know I didn’t storm in myself . . . ” His phone pings twice. Finally he succumbs.

After tapping away for about 30 seconds, Wong launches back into our conversation, sounding genuinely sorry that he wasn’t there on the night when protesters destroyed symbols of the Chinese Communist party and briefly occupied the chamber.

“My job is to be the middleman to express, evaluate and reveal what is going on in the Hong Kong protests when the movement is about being faceless,” he says, adding that his Twitter storm of 29 tweets explaining the July 1 occupation reached at least four million people. I admit that I am overcome with exhaustion just scanning his Twitter account, which has more than 400,000 followers. “Well, that thread was actually written by Jeffrey Ngo from Demosisto,” he say, referring to the political activism group that he heads.

A network of Hong Kong activists studying abroad helps fuel his relentless public persona on social media and in the opinion pages of international newspapers. Within a week of his most recent arrest, he had published op-eds in The Economist, The New York Times, Quartz and the Apple Daily.

I wonder out loud if he ever feels overwhelmed at taking on the Chinese Communist party, a task daunting even for some of the world’s most formidable governments and companies. He peers at me over his wire-framed glasses. “It’s our responsibility; if we don’t do it, who will? At least we are not in Xinjiang or Tibet; we are in Hong Kong,” he says, referring to two regions on Chinese soil on the frontline of Beijing’s drive to develop a high-tech surveillance state. In Xinjiang, at least one million people are being held in internment camps. “Even though we’re directly under the rule of Beijing, we have a layer of protection because we’re recognised as a global city so [Beijing] is more hesitant to act.”

I hear the sound of the wok firing up in the kitchen and ask him the question on everyone’s minds in Hong Kong: what happens next? Like many people who are closely following the extraordinary situation in Hong Kong, he is hesitant to make firm predictions.

“Lots of think-tanks around the world say ‘Oh, we’re China experts. We’re born in western countries but we know how to read Chinese so we’re familiar with Chinese politics.’ They predicted the Communist party would collapse after the Tiananmen Square massacre and they’ve kept predicting this over the past three decades but hey, now it’s 2019 and we’re still under the rule of Beijing, ha ha,” he grins.

While we are prophesying, does Wong ever think he might become chief executive one day? “No local journalist in Hong Kong would really ask this question,” he admonishes. As our lunch has progressed, he has become bolder in dissecting my interview technique. The territory’s chief executive is currently selected by a group of 1,200, mostly Beijing loyalists, and he doubts the Chinese Communist party would ever allow him to run. A few weeks after we meet he announces his candidacy in the upcoming district council elections. He was eventually the only candidate disqualified from running — an order that, after our lunch, he tweeted had come from Beijing and was “clearly politically driven”.

We turn to the more ordinary stuff of 23-year-olds’ lives, as Wong slurps the remainder of his milk tea. “Before being jailed, the thing I was most worried about was that I wouldn’t be able to watch Avengers: Endgame,” he says.

“Luckily, it came out around early May so I watched it two weeks before I was locked up in prison.” He has already quoted Spider-Man twice during our lunch. I am unsurprised when Wong picks him as his favourite character.

“I think he’s more . . . ” He pauses, one of the few times in the interview. “Compared to having an unlimited superpower or unlimited power or unlimited talent just like Superman, I think Spider-Man is more human.” With that, our friendly neighbourhood activist dashes off to his next interview.

I was born and raised in Singapore till primary 6. Spent my childhood alternating between my kampung in Malaysia on my dad's side, and the Singaporean family on my mom's side. I spent my high school days in Malaysia for 5 years in Malacca. After SPM, I moved back to Singapore to get my diploma and serve National Service before pursuing my comedy career.

In Malacca, I can name the schools, streets, shortcuts, where to find the best Asam Pedas, where to buy food at 2am if u hungry. Just like in Singapore, I can name the hot spots to hang out, their smoking corners, where the saman people always lurk and what time the last bus is.

My point is, I'm as Singaporean and as Malaysian as any of you. Don't let a piece of plastic divide who we are as people. You belong to where ur heart is.

Happy Saturday!

Nasi goreng, literally meaning "fried rice" in Indonesian and Malay, is considered Indonesia’s national dish. It can refer simply to fried pre-cooked rice, a meal including stir fried rice in small amount of cooking oil or margarine, typically spiced with kecap manis (sweet soy sauce), shallot, garlic, ground shrimp paste, tamarind and chilli and accompanied by other ingredients, particularly egg, chicken and prawns. There is also another kind of nasi goreng which is made with ikan asin (salted dried fish) which is also popular across Indonesia. Nasi goreng is sometimes described as Indonesian stir-fried rice, although it is also popular in Malaysia, Singapore and the Netherlands. It is distinguished from other Asian fried rice recipes by its aromatic, earthy and smoky flavor; owed to generous amount of caramelized sweet soy sauce and powdered shrimp paste, and the taste is stronger and spicier compared to Chinese fried rice.

Nasi goreng has been called the national dish of Indonesia, though there are many other contenders. It can be enjoyed in simple versions from a tin plate at a roadside food stall, eaten on porcelain in restaurants, or collected from the buffet tables of Jakarta dinner parties.

In 2011 an online poll by 35,000 people held by CNN International chose Indonesian nasi goreng as the number two of their 'World’s 50 Most Delicious Foods' list after rendang.

Nasi goreng with chicken, egg and prawn cracker

Nasi goreng, literally meaning "fried rice" in Indonesian and Malay, can refer simply to fried pre-cooked rice, a meal including stir fried rice in small amount of cooking oil or margarine, typically spiced with kecap manis (sweet soy sauce), shallot, garlic, ground shrimp paste, tamarind and chilli and accompanied by other ingredients, particularly egg, chicken and prawns. There is also another kind of nasi goreng which is made with ikan asin (salted dried fish) which is also popular across Indonesia. Nasi goreng is sometimes described as Indonesian stir-fried rice,[3] although it is also popular in Malaysia, Singapore and the Netherlands. It is distinguished from other Asian fried rice recipes by its aromatic, earthy and smoky flavor; owed to generous amount of caramelized sweet soy sauce and powdered shrimp paste, and the taste is stronger and spicier compared to Chinese fried rice.
Nasi goreng has been called the national dish of Indonesia, though there are many other contenders. It can be enjoyed in simple versions from a tin plate at a roadside food stall, eaten on porcelain in restaurants, or collected from the buffet tables of Jakarta dinner parties.

Nasi goreng is distinguished from other Asian fried rice recipes by its aromatic, earthy and smoky flavour; owed to generous amount of caramelized kecap manis (sweet soy sauce) and ground powdered terasi (shrimp paste), and the taste is stronger and spicier compared to Chinese fried rice. Nasi goreng often includes krupuk and bawang goreng (fried shallots) or (fried onions) to give a crispier texture.
The main ingredients of nasi goreng include pre-cooked rice, sweet soy sauce, powdered shrimp paste, salt, garlic, shallot, chilli pepper, spring onions, nutmeg, turmeric, vegetable oil, onions, palm sugar, ginger garlic paste, and slices of cucumber and tomato for garnishing. Some recipes may add black pepper, terasi (shrimp paste), fish sauce, or powdered broth as a seasoning and taste enhancer. Eggs might be mixed into fried rice or fried separately, either as telur ceplok/telur mata sapi (sunny side up eggs), or telur dadar (omelette), and also telur rebus (boiled eggs). Originally optional, the addition of fried egg is often named as nasi goreng spesial (pakai telur) or special fried rice topped with fried egg.

Char kway teow, literally "stir-fried ricecake strips", is a popular noodle dish in Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei and Indonesia. The dish is considered a national favourite in Malaysia and Singapore.

It is made from flat rice noodles (河粉 hé fěn in Chinese) or kway teow (粿条 guǒ tiáo in Chinese) of approximately 1 cm or (in the north of Malaysia) about 0.5 cm in width, stir-fried over very high heat with light and dark soy sauce, chilli, a small quantity of belachan, whole prawns, deshelled blood cockles, bean sprouts and chopped Chinese chives. The dish is commonly stir-fried with egg, slices of Chinese sausage, fishcake, beansprouts, and less commonly with other ingredients. Char kway teow is traditionally stir-fried in pork fat, with crisp croutons of pork lard. In Penang, Char kway teow is commonly served on a piece of banana leaf on a plate, so as to enhance the aroma on the noodles.

The term "char kway teow" is a transliteration of the Chinese characters 炒粿條 (in simplified Chinese 炒粿条), Teochew origin and also pronounced chhá-kóe-tiâu? in Min Nan (also known as Teochew or Hokkien). The word kóe-tiâu (literally meaning "ricecake strips") generally refers to flat rice noodles, which are the usual ingredient in West Malaysia and Singapore. In East Malaysia, on the other hand, actual sliced ricecake strips are used to make this dish.

Owing to the dish's popularity and spread to Cantonese-speaking areas, the term "char kway teow" has been corrupted into "炒貴刁" in Cantonese. The term "貴 刁" has no real meaning, but its pronunciation in Cantonese and Mandarin is similar to "粿條" in Min Nan.

In Hong Kong, "char kway teow" is often known as "Penang char kway teow" (檳城炒粿條 or 檳城炒貴刁)