SECRETS are crawling out of the roti benggali, Penang’s all-time favourite crusty bread, leaving many of us with no stomach to eat it ever again.
First, there was talk some time ago that the bread makers were using their bare feet to knead the dough. Being an unflappable buyer of the bread sold all over Penang and also limitedly in the Klang Valley, I would have none of that story at the time, thinking that it must be one of those mischievous online hoaxes.
But last week, my tummy did a Hugo Sanchez somersault, while a lump built up in my throat when I read news reports about what health authorities found when they conducted spot checks on several roti benggali bakeries in Penang. Pictures accompanying the stories were graphic and, obviously, did not lie. They were enough to make me sick for days on end.
They found rat droppings in one of the bakeries, which also had two trolleys with stacks of dough left beside the toilet with its door ajar, when the raiding party came while bread was being made.
According to the report, officers conducting the checks also discovered human hair-like items in a container with oil, which was used to knead the dough. Several workers were simply throwing excess dough on the wet floor instead of collecting them in a bin for disposal later.
On top of it, none of the 10 workers was wearing a hair cover, gloves or a face mask, although it is a requirement under the law. This bakery it seems, was a popular one on Jalan Dato Keramat in George Town. But similar conditions were found in five others — two each in Kepala Batas and Nibong Tebal, and another in Bukit Mertajam. I still feel the authorities should name and shame them.
Regardless of who the manufacturer is, though, it is already enough for many other consumers like me to shun the bread altogether from now on, a case of one bad apple, as they say. Yes, some say the nasi kandar stalls are no better, operating in alleyways in distasteful conditions. But, the graphic pictures revealed in last week’s raids take the cake.
The dirty bakeries had to pay compounds and although their premises have been sealed for two weeks, they can operate again if they make amends and comply with food regulations.
My question is: is it that simple? For all the disgusting things found, the trust they have betrayed and the anguish they have caused to consumers, is that all there is?
They should be stopped from operating altogether. The owners ought to be jailed. And, what has taken the authorities so long to conduct the checks? By now, the particles of the bread must be all over my body’s system.
Roti benggali, a French loaf-type of bread with a golden, crispy crust, is a staple in the northern region and has been a favourite for ages. Though it is best eaten dipped in flaming hot curry, slices of roti benggali are a common feature for breakfast, served with soft-boiled eggs. Its appeal, especially when hot from the oven, often extends all day, with butter and kaya spread or dipped in mutton soup on cold, rainy evenings.
I remember a stall in a back alley off Hutton Lane in Penang, which used to serve roti benggali toasted to perfection on a charcoal grill. The customer could either have the bread with butter and kaya, butter and sugar, or curry. At lunchtime, the modest stall was always full, probably because for about RM2, you could have a full meal with tea or coffee.
All this will be history.
Unlike what the name might suggest, roti benggali has nothing to do with Punjabis, whom some Malaysians confuse with people from Bengal and, therefore, call Benggali. The original sellers, however, were said to have worn turbans like Punjabis.
But, there is a version that says it comes from the word “Penggali”, which means shareholders. In 1928, Sheik Mohd Ismail from Madras, India, set up Roti Penggali (Bread Shareholders) as a business with his founding friends in Transfer Road, Penang. Local residents mispronounced the word “Penggali” as “Benggali” and that, along with its mistaken association, got passed on until today.
Whatever it is, the popularity of roti benggali has been remarkable until, of course, the secrets poured out last week. In some parts of the Klang Valley, the bread is sold by a vendor who goes around in a van. But after what transpired, I doubt he will get the steady flow of customers he would normally get.
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