Lunch was an uncomplicated dish, made by me, in my kitchen on a chilly winter’s day in Australia, it consisted of mainly grated coconut, tinned tuna, chili, and onions, it was my take on “mas huni”. As soon as the first spoonful landed on my palate I was transported back to a warm sun-filled day in the Maldives, there was nothing particularly special about that day, but it was a good day.

An early morning arrival in Male, the capital of the Maldives, had me walking with my full backpack, down the narrow traffic-clogged streets, motorbikes and scooters zip past, the air already heavy with traffic fumes and tropical heat, I was on the hunt for somewhere to eat breakfast before heading off to some local islands. There were plenty of cafes with an ocean view, they are aimed at tourists in search of the familiar, close to the jetty, the kind of cafes with inflated prices that occupy airports and food halls around the world, all with the same mundane western menus, patrons tucking in to choc chip muffins and smashed avocado melts, washed down with weak cappuccinos, eating there you could be anywhere in the world, the only thing that changes is the currency that you paid for your meal in, but with tap and go you don’t even notice that. I avoid those kinds of eateries, I make a point of finding local cuisine where ever I can.

This was not one of those cappuccino cafes, it was a local place, it wasn’t glossy, it didn’t smell of baked goods and coffee grinds. I don’t even know the name of it, but I could find it again easily, it is situated a few blocks from the area that was crowded with cashed up foreigners.

The shopfront was small, “a hole in the wall” is what they are often called, through the door I could see no table and chairs, just a warming cabinet containing an array of short eats and a drink fridge humming in the corner, short eats are small meat or vegetable pastries. A quick easy meal,  is all I needed, I wanted to buy takeaway food, that way I could continue to meander and explore a bit more of the over crowded city, it was my first time there and I only had a couple of hours between ferries. Not knowing any of the native language I was ready to point and buy whatever looked appealing. The conversation between the only two gentlemen in the store stopped abruptly when I entered. I smiled and was greeted with a welcoming smile back, I gestured towards the short eats and  one of the men shakes his head and politely said “No” and then he points to a steep narrow staircase next in the corner. It unclear why I couldn’t buy the displayed food, he told me to go up and order, I thanked them, and up I went into the unknown.

At the top of the stairs was a small bright simple restaurant with dozen or so white Formica tables, a quick glance around the room I noticed was it was all men, not one woman. It was like I had invaded their men’s club, all eyes were on me when I walk in, that is never a good feeling, and there was a clear change in the tone their conversations for a few seconds. Despite the lack of females, the place had a nice vibe. Fresh roshi was cooking on a flat skillet and the scent of wonderful spices was filling my nostrils. I smile nervously and said “Hi” to the people that acknowledge my presence. I found a table near the large open windows, with a view of the busy street below and I remove my backpack before I order food, a quick takeaway wasn’t  available.

Men in business suits occupy some tables, they go back to their boisterous conversations, cigarette smoke is wafting about their heads before it is dispersed by the fans, and drifts out the windows, newspapers, ashtrays, and teacups litter the tables, other men are hurriedly scoffing their breakfast before heading off to work.

Bewildered, I stared at the menu above the counter nothing is recognizable, a young man with a nervous smile and pen in hand is waiting patiently to take my order waiting, so I point at something in the bain-marie, I had no idea what it was. He says “fish” and I say “Yes, please” and may I also have tea, no sugar, knowing that sweet tea will be served anyway, I return to my table, to people watch, and wait for breakfast to be served.

That was the first time I ate a traditional Maldivian breakfast “Mas huni” served with a freshly made “roshi” flatbread. I had never tasted anything quite like it, not overly fishy, a nice bite chili, and subtle sweetness of coconut. YUMMY.

I love how food takes you back to the place where you discovered it for the first time, on that occasion, when you hungrily but tentatively put that first morsel of an unfamiliar meal or snack in your mouth you don’t even realise the significance of it, but then months..even years later you are thrown back to that memory with one bite, all the flavours that linger on your tongue, transport you there, to that moment, that taste, that place. Whether it be a roadside stall, restaurant, street vendor, or a family meal cooked with love, food triggers the most wonderful memories. And that is the thing with taste, it could be the simplest meal or snack, it might not be the most exciting thing you have ever eaten, just something different infused with interesting flavours that make your senses come alive.

When you give in to hunger and walked into an unknown restaurant or stroll up to a bustling street vendor, the aroma wafting from their business entices your taste buds the experience awaiting you is foreign. Language barriers mean the food is often ordered off a menu that you don’t understand, scanning it for familiar words, if you’re lucky it comes with glossy photos of food on plates swimming in sauces, bowls stacked high exotic cuisine, maybe you select your meal with the point of a finger at something that looks not too threatening in a bain-marie or faced with the fear of the unknown you just ordered the same as the person in front of you, they look like a normal person, surely they wouldn’t order anything too out of the ordinary.

Today my taste buds took me to the Maldives…tomorrow who knows where they will take me.