Mention the word "satay" and I am instantly reminded of my childhood years and years ago, how the Malay Satay Man would peddle his mobile satay stall on his bicycle in my neighbourhood, tooting his horn. Sometimes, I could even smell the aroma from my house, even though he could be grilling his satay down the road. I would get all excited at the prospect of having satay for dinner, and run to the window to see if I could detect any "smoke" signals in the sky. He made one of the best satays in town, and the fact that he peddled his stall around the neighbourhood meant that we could walk up to him with empty plates and bowls waiting to be filled with freshly made satay. Those were the simple things in life back then, though coming from a foodie family, food was and is a big deal, as to most Malaysians of course.
