Dating : 24 Flavours—13. Why is the Roti called John?

This 24 Flavours literary journey is part of a series of writings from a few years back when Math Paper Press was actively publishing it. The series has since gone into hiatus but I’ll sharing the pieces that were written. Each piece is based on a food theme, 24 in total. I had devised mine to centre on my family, and some of the storylines are interconnected. Not all 24 stories are completed so you’ll have to check back periodically to read all of them.

My first taste of roti john was with Ma. That was strange because Ma might have been the official chef of the household, but Pa was the adventurous eater. He was a taxi driver and sometimes I think the driving was only made bearable* because he got to eat at different places, driving around the entire island.

So I was surprised when Ma took Kor and me to an unfamiliar kopitiam, and ordered roti john for us. I had eaten mee rebus, mee soto, roti prata before — and I liked ‘ with egg’ best — but this was the first time that I encountered this dish. We had just come from visiting a Malay family and Ma said that the old Ah-Ma is Kor’s Nek Nek. I didn’t understand the complexity of the situation until I was much older. When we were at the house, an auntie gave me a glass of ice-cold pink coloured drink, and it tasted like strawberry milk. Ma said it was bandung, a drink made from rose syrup, and condensed milk.

The adults didn’t talk very much and even when they did, Ma and Nek Nek spoke in Malay. Kor just sat there silently while I concentrated on watching TV and drinking my pink coloured ‘milk’.

It was much later Ma told me that my Kor is actually from a different father. She had married the man after she finished secondary school, and converted to Islam too. It was a tumultuous union as her parents did not approve of the marriage, and life was really tough on Kor too. She eventually left the man, and later on while working as a lounge hostess, she met my Pa. Pa loved her and Kor, and eventually they got married. Life was again tough for a few years, Pa got addicted to gambling, and even once lost all the household money they had to buy food for the week. Ma said that Kor had to eat a single roti prata on one day while they both survived on Milo. Because of this, Ma always reminded me that regardless of what Kor does in his life, success or failure, I must always look out for him as I had it easy since I was born.

The roti john** arrived at our table, and it looked complicated, just like our afternoon outing. It used Western bread but it did not taste exactly like Western food. But I know my Kor is always my Kor.

* Pa grew up privileged as a rich towkay’s eldest son. Never really had to work a day in his life until he got kicked out of the family for marrying my mother, who was a divorcee with a six-year-old from a previous mixed race marriage. Pa wasn’t a bad man in any manner in a million years but he definitely had to re-adjust being the sole bread winner of the family.

** the urban myth of why the roti john is called a roti john was said to stem from the food cooked by the ethnic Chinese group, the Hainanese. During colonial times, most of the Hainanese were employed as cooks by the British. And the story was that at an army barracks, a British officer loved his bread, and he called it like any local back then using the malay word, “roti”. The spin was that the British officer’s name is John, and he had asked his cook if he could come up with a meatier version of his roti meal instead of the usual butter or kaya. The cook obliged. Of course, one had to name a dish especially a new one, and that’s how we have our roti john today.