LET’S talk about a modern Malaysian tragedy – no, not the potholes or the price of kopi ais, though those are scandalous too. I am talking about food wastage.
You know, that beautiful spread of lauk at a kenduri or buffet lines longer than a queue for free iPhones, and three hours later, plates are abandoned like they were cursed – nasi untouched, ayam rendang poked and discarded, half a spring roll bitten and dumped like a bad Tinder date.
Why?
You wanted everything on your plate until suddenly your stomach became a diva halfway through and said “I simply cannot”.
This is not just rude to the chef; it is a slap to the farmer, the makcik who peeled 400 onions, the ikan that gave up its dreams of swimming and every starving soul who would have happily licked that plate clean.
Let’s do the maths (not the Add Maths trauma kind): Malaysians waste over 17,000 tonnes of food daily. Nearly 4,000 tonnes of that is still edible. That is enough to feed millions – and probably still have leftovers for supper. All because someone at the hotel buffet “just wanted to taste everything”.
Taste, not waste, okay? This is not a food fashion show.
Root causes
Eyes bigger than stomach: Just because the buffet is “free flow” does not mean your plate needs to look like a food pyramid collapse.
Fear of missing out (Fomo-lauk edition): You see someone with sambal sotong and suddenly your plate grows arms, grabbing everything like you are a contestant on MasterChef Hunger Games.
Social status performance: Some people treat ordering five drinks and not finishing any of them as a sign of luxury. That is not “rich”, sayang; that is just rude. Even the teh tarik is crying.
Catered events with biar lebih, jangan kurang motto: Okay, valid concern. But maybe don’t prepare like you are feeding the whole of Klang when you invited 30 people and a toddler.
And then comes the lempang-worthy part: People who waste food and then still say “eh, let’s go to McD after this”. Hello? Even your conscience is bloated.
Or worse: “Eh, don’t-lah tapau, later nampak macam tak classy”. Excuse me. You know what is not classy? Dumping biryani that could have had a second life in someone’s lunchbox. Tapau is not taboo; it is intelligence wrapped in plastic.
So what do we do, other than rage in a humorous way?
Take only what you can eat: Start small. You can go back. This is a buffet, not a food museum.
Bring back the love for leftovers: Cold pizza is character development. Yesterday’s nasi goreng can become today’s fried rice with identity. And kari always tastes better the next day – it is practically tradition.
Host smarter: Ask guests if they want to tapau. Prepare containers. Heck, label them. “Uncle Rahim – daging dendeng only.” Cute and waste-free.
Support food rescue programmes: Groups like The Lost Food Project and Kechara Soup Kitchen are out doing Allah’s work – rescuing edible food and feeding communities. Get involved, donate or at least clap.
Call out waste gently but clearly: If someone dumps half a plate: “Oh sayang, you didn’t like it? You know, in some cultures, that is considered wasteful and mildly embarrassing.” Smile. Add a wink. Passive-aggressive is an art.
Final word from Makcik’s messy kitchen: Wasting food is not trendy, not elegant and definitely not aesthetic; it is privileged behaviour with a guilt trail and a whiff of sambal gone sour. Our parents used to say, “Setiap butir nasi tu ada berkat.” Now we throw nasi like it is confetti and wonder why our lives feel so dry.
So next time you load your plate, think: Will I eat this or am I just trying to impress someone who is already judging me for using a fork with my tangan?
Be smart. Eat smart. And if you are full, tapau that rendang like a responsible, sassy citizen of Earth.
Sekian, Makcik signing off – with a recycled container filled with leftover kuah kari.
Azura Abas is the associate editor of theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
