Goodies First

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Celebs, Curry, Classics

Sweet Chick I would not say that Williamsburg, or NYC in general, needs another southern joint. How much fried chicken can a city stand (and I love fried chicken)? Battered, craggy and sticky with sweetened soy like the finest Chinese takeout, General Tso fried chicken, is a different story. Add a light rice waffle with what appeared by be chopped Chinese broccoli baked in and you have a fun blackboard special. Lest you think all this retooled Americana is a young person’s game (jerky fries? purple drank?)  it was good enough for Canadian Pat Kiernan and family, who'd apparently made the block-and-a-half trek on a Sunday night.

Laut And then I (or rather my table-mate) spotted Ric Ocasek and Paulina Porizkova the following night strolling past our window. I only saw the backs of two tall, skinny people all in black. If an ‘80s celebrity marriage can last this long, it gives hope for the rest of us. Laut does the dreaded pan-Asian thing, mostly focusing on Thailand and Malaysia. Stick with the latter. The laksa and curry mee wouldn’t compete with anything you’d find in Queens or Chinatown, but where else are you going to get these spicy soups anywhere above 14^th Street? Ok, I take that back—according to Menupages 12 other restaurants that fit that criteria.

Qi Thai Grill is on Seamless, which tickles me, if only because it means beef tendon salad and pork belly (not so crisp, admittedly, after the journey) arriving at my door. Read more here.

Pok Pok And sometimes Brooklyn Thai needs to be experienced in person. Reports of smaller post-hype crowds may be true, but there is still likely to be a wait. In my case 45 minutes at 9:30pm on a Wednesday. Kaeng kradang, a chalkboard special described a cold weather curry, turned out to be a highly jellied pork terrine, feeling a little more French-Vietnamese than Thai (though I know it's not). I would eat this on a baguette rather than with finger-fulls of sticky rice. A duck salad and ribs with a pair of dipping sauces rounded out the meal, just right for two, despite the server’s warning that we had under-ordered. Keep your eye out for Columbia Street on a future episode of The Americans (you’re watching it, right?). Film crews had taken over a number of blocks near the waterfront. I did not see Keri Russell (who apparently owns a Brooklyn brownstone, as all celebrities big and small, minus Pat Kiernan, seem to).

Diner and Dumont While distinct restaurants, obviously, these two that I hadn't patronized since the early '00s may end up being Williamsburg old-timers as places like La Villita Bakery and La Borinquena get pushed out. In the days before 20-somethings regularly dined on entrees costing roughly their ages, $12 mussels and fries felt fancy (it was the mayonnaise in lieu of ketchup that clinched it). That was the only thing I ever ordered at Diner. Dumont still makes a nice burger. Supposedly, so does Diner but I’ve never tried it (nor the steaks). Because I may be a decade older but still not free-spending, I didn’t bother ordering any of the specials with no prices mentioned. I will admit that a squid salad with lentils and fennel and duck breast with farro and kumquats were definitely a step up from the bowl of bivalves.

Walter Foods Pretty much the newer but not that new version of the mid-20s people and prices place. Chicken, steak, pork chops--the standards--are all ok, but nothing that would explain why the restaurant is always so packed. While eating steak frites and deviled eggs, I realized that a Shazam for faces would be a valuable invention. Right before closing, a dude being filmed showed up and everyone seemed to know who he was. Then again, the room also appeared to be morphing into a private after-hours space, so perhaps the room was just filled with his friends celebrating his Kickstarter campaign.

Lodge I would lump Lodge right in with the above or not even mention it at all. It's always been a non-entity to me, a place with no appeal. But it was open relatively late on St. Patrick's Day (a blessedly low-key, non barfy holiday in these parts) and so I stopped in and had my frequent semi-boring office lunch, steak salad, but jazzed up with pears, walnuts and goat cheese for dinner. It was certainly better than Flavors and I give Lodge a leg up for playing My Bloody Valentine’s Ecstasy and Wine and Up For a Bit With the Pastels (neither on Spotify, annoyingly) both my driving to school in the morning music, taped from record to cassette, of course.

 

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Cold-Fighting

Taste Good Malaysian There are many directions you can go if you're a spicy soup to ward off a cold type: soondubu jjigae, hotpot, menudo (for some reason tom yum doesn't appeal) or Singapore laksa, a.k.a. laksa lemak, the rich coconutty style. Somehow the combination of heat and creaminess just makes sense for a sore throat. Elmhurst's Taste Good Malaysian is as good as anywhere to get a fix. Their version filled with bean curd puffs, half a hardboiled egg, chicken shreds, a few small shrimp, fish cakes, bean sprouts and fat, round translucent noodles is a meal in itself (always a problem because it's too filling to allow for any rendang, nasi lemak or sambal shrimp) though a shared roti canai and popiah won't hurt. I only regret having waved off the scrappy gentleman trying to sell a bottle of Robitussin in front of the Queens Adult Care Center on the walk to the restaurant because I'm still sick (the laksa didn't work, but it was tasty) and too beat to walk the eight blocks to the nearest drug store.

Die Koelner Bierhalle The Park Slope beer hall with a surprising amount of seating (communal, of course) is more for drinking and sporting, though a simple bratwurst and big plate of spaetzle and speck (not pictured) are fitting winter accompaniments. Just don't try to order the bauernwurst or you'll be steered away with "Nobody orders it. We're removing it from the menu." What's wrong with the bauernwurst?

Blaue Gans You could also get a bratwurst here (no bauernwurst, sorry) but it will be $7 more than in Park Slope. While relatively casual, Blaue Gans is still more of a sit-down affair. If you order the blood sausage, you might be asked if you've had it before. (Do you see a trend forming? During three recent meals--including Qi Grill, not mentioned here--I was essentially told that I didn't really want what I said I wanted, which makes me testy.) Or maybe the server just meant it's not presented in cased sausage form, but loose and molded into a circle. No one warned me away from the calves liver with apples and bacon, thankfully.

Cafecito Bogota If you find yourself in upper Greenpoint on Sunday during dreaded brunch time, you could do worse than an a la carte arepa (though feel free to order the $16.99 three-drink with food special if you're into mucho mimosas, sangria or refajo, an unseemly blend of Colombian beer and cream soda--they weren't able to make a bloody mary). The Cartegena comes with a big mound of scrambled eggs, shrimp and cilantro.

Hudson Yards Cafe This might be the most inoffensive lunch place closest to the Javits Center. Never mind that all the other badge-wearers (you've taken yours off, of course) are drinking iced tea and Diet Coke. Stick to your guns and down two pints of Stella with your fontina (spelled fontana) and prosciutto panini; it'll endear the older bartender who's also midday tippling to you. If you're a certain age being referred to as a "good girl" isn't offensive.

Taco Chulo I don't normally eat restaurant breakfasts (despite contrary evidence above) especially not on weekdays, but I had time to kill before looking at a nearby apartment (I didn't realize how many area restaurants are dinner-only) and rajas hash with chorizo was right on, greasy and yolky with a bit of heat. Of course when I showed up to the apartment on time, a twentysomething couple was also waiting even though their appointment was a half-hour after mine and so I was forced to look at their out-of-my-budget apartments with them (and vice versa). Why kill time, waiting your turn when you can just be a twentysomething in Williamsburg?

 

 

 

Kek Seng

As much as I love the malls of Asia and organized hawker centers, there is something to be said for the weak breezes of an electric fan while sitting on hard wooden booth in a well-worn shophouse. Cooling off with an ais kacang, of course.

Kek Seng is perfect for a traditional Penang experience…like putting vegetables and legumes in desserts. This bed of shaved ice came smothered in creamed corn, rose syrup, red beans, a layered agar-agar jelly and best of all two scoops of durian ice cream.

The durian ice cream, which does have a distinct natural taste unlike some duller durian-flavored sweets, is optional. You shouldn't pass it up, though.

The shockingly bright aftermath.

Cooked food is available from the stands out front.

Kek Seng * 382-384 Penang Rd, Penang, Malaysia

New World Park

Having started with the Gurney Drive hawkers, then moving onto more modern Northam Beach Café, New World Park was the next logical step. Only a little over two years old, this complex is home to casual upscale restaurants like Shanghainese Rou Gu Cha King and Sri Batik Nyonya Café, as well as this tidy hawker center, all signage homogenized into one distinct style.

The popiah stand was popular and I hadn't tried any on this vacation. I'm not sure if it's the nature of popiah or just this version, which were freshly made on the spot, but I found the rolls kind of bland. I think it was the jicama-heavy filling.

We ordered roti canai from the Indian Muslim stall. The sauce was redder than anything I've encountered in the US, and I think vegetarian. Then again, roti canai here isn't the same since most Malaysian restaurants are run by Chinese.

And a shrimp fritter too.

James ordered char kway teow because…he usually did in Penang.

New World Park * Burmah Rd., Penang, Malaysia

Fatty 'Cue

I knew I would like the food at Fatty 'Cue even if it was my third choice. Friday night I went looking for fried brains and bone marrow poppers at St. Anselm but they didn't appear to be in business yet. Foie gras pierogies will have to wait. I put my name on the list at Pies & Thighs, then before even sinking into the 15-person-crowd out front, gave up. At 8pm, a table for two at Fatty 'Cue down the street, was no problem.

My hesitation, why Fatty ‘Cue wasn’t destination one or two, stemmed from the spate of early online criticism. And after eating there myself, I am torn. I love the concept. And I love funky Southeast Asian flavors made American without being dumbed down. Pok Pok, the wildly popular Thai restaurant in Portland, is a stellar example of a restaurant doing this right.

Lightly spicy, fish saucey, palm sugared pork ribs used the flavor combination of my dreams. But $4.67 per rib ($14 for an order of three—everything is served in threes, which makes splitting between two awkward and impossible among four) did seem a bit much.

Everything comes as it pleases, which is to say mostly all at once. Fun and festive or disorderly, depending on your perspective. Four dishes plus plates for eating won’t fit on a table for two.

I didn't get a distinct coriander taste from the thick, meaty bacon, as was advertised, but definitely got the smokiness. The little cup contained steamed custard flavored with yellow curry, like a savory flan. It’s meant to be spread on the toast points and topped with the bacon slices.

The smoked eggplant and anchovy nam prik is one of those dishes that would stymie a diner expecting more traditional barbecue menu, Asian-inflected or not. Nearby customers seemed confused by tamarind in the ice tea, so I imagine that this Thai-esque platter would be more challenging than baked beans for some. Sour green mango is one of my favorite vehicles for chile hot, fishy nam priks. This dip was more earthy-salty, nice with grilled garlic, blander radishes and crisp bok choy. Kind of healthy if you gloss over the chicharrones.

Smoky was the theme, also with the clams, rife with bacon and sitting in a pork bone broth. Texas toast was the most American part of the meal whether or not they call it dragon pullman toast.

Shoofly or s’mores pie just seemed weird, but I still wanted something sweet. The dark chocolate bar seasoned with Aleppo pepper, almonds and sea salt did the trick even if it felt more like you were eating a souvenir than a dessert proper.

Fatty 'Cue * 91 S. Sixth St., Brooklyn, NY

Bali Hai Seafood

1/2 Our last night in Penang, I went back to Gurney Drive to try the pasembur that I missed the first time. Sadly, the stall wasn’t open and on this weeknight, only half the seating was out creating a madhouse, scrambling for tables effect. What else was nearby? We walked down to Bali Hai, a sprawling outdoor seafood restaurant with a flashy neon sign and a wall of choose-your-own-creature fish tanks.

Also, popular in Hong Kong and Singapore, I’d always shied away from this style of dining because quickly calculating grams to ounces while simultaneously doing currency conversions makes me nervous and I’m paranoid that I will end up with a massive bill. This did end up being our most expensive meal in Penang but even with three large sharable Calsbergs (the territorial aspect of SE Asian dining always throws me. When approached by the Indian woman dressed in a green miniskirt ensemble we asked for Tiger beer, but she was the Carlsberg server. You had to order from the Chinese Tiger beer girl if you wanted Tiger. Meanwhile, there was a rogue satay guy who didn’t seem to have any affiliation with the restaurant) it was under $50.

The covered open space, sticky despite fans blowing water, was filled with large round tables, many occupied by groups of men, coworkers, showing a Westerner, maybe a boss, maybe a peer, a good time. The primo spots were thatched hut booths in the front. We had a roomy picnic-type table on the outer perimeter.

Mantis prawns. I’ve always wanted to try these giant crustaceans, despite their creepy name and buggy, armored appearance. Not inexpensive, these were about $10 apiece. The impenetrable shells come scored, diners are brought scissors. I copied the guy at a table near ours and scraped out the meat with a spoon. It turned out to be a lot of work for not a lot of payoff, like blue crabs. The chili sauce was barely touched because I couldn’t wrangle any tidbits substantial enough for dipping.

Here are some live mantis prawns in action. As you can see, they also had quite a selection of geoduck. The prehistoric-looking animals are often touted as a Northwest delicacy but I never encountered them in Portland and have still yet to try them. I’m not sure how they are served in Malaysia.

Kang kong, a.k.a. water spinach, prepared with shrimp paste and chile is a typical Malaysian vegetable. Accents are very subtle. Our waiter, who had to be sent over to our table because he was the only fluent English-speaker, had no idea what I was asking for when I said kang like in kangaroo. A’s are softer like in almond; his pronunciation was more like kong kong, the A barely different from the O. My pronunciation of pandan was corrected on my last visit to Malaysia, so you think I would’ve remembered. Normally, I hate stems and try to avoid them raw. This style of water spinach is so savory and hearty that I forgot about being scared of the hollow stems.

I picked out a sea bass that would be good for two, like I said, grams don’t mean anything to me visually. This fish, fried to a crisp, was amazing and almost Thai in flavor. It was served with a very spicy green mango slaw and lots of shallots and mint leaves.

Despite a substantial amount of blog posts and having their own website, I have no idea what Bali Hai’s address might be of if they even have one. Such details seem superfluous in much of Southeast Asia.

Bali Hai Seafood * Gurney Dr., Penang, Malaysia

Line Clear Nasi Kandar

Unlike my first gluttonous foray into nasi kandar, point-and-pick Indian-Muslim food over rice, I showed restraint on my second visit to Penang. I might’ve ordered more this time too, but I go with the flow when I’m not completely familiar with a dining style.

“White rice or biryani?” was the first question. Plain, trying to save calories (I kid…sort of). The New Yorker in me can’t bear holding up lines, so no time was wasted with the “What’s in that pan?” game. I identified chicken curry and settled on that. I would’ve liked something from the sea, maybe squid eggs, as well. My contemplative mood was ended by, “What vegetable?” Uh ok, green beans, then. “Cabbage?” That seemed like a requirement…so, yes. Then the guy manning the station ladles gravy from different dishes, not necessarily the ones you ordered, onto the rice. See? You don’t really need the biryani.

Some people eat with their hands, some don’t. Everyone eats quickly and no one wastes a speck. Even though I didn’t load up with a zillion different items like at Kayu Nasi Kandar (now out of business), this was a lot of food. I wouldn’t normally eat all of this rice, but to leave food behind seemed very American and grotesque and I have a hard enough time throwing away food as it is.

Clearly, there are scraps to be had. This tiny cat had a chicken bone to herself. 85% of the felines I’ve encountered in SE Asia are unusually small, angular-faced and have short tails, not like manxes but half the length or a typical US cat, with stubs on the end like they’ve been broken. This cat’s tail doesn’t extend behind the table leg, what’s pictured is the end of it. My cat weighs over 20 pounds even though I feed her as much as our normal-sized cat, so I am fascinated by these sylphs. I also wonder if you could possibly eat nasi kandar on a regular basis and not plump up.

A man at the table behind me wanted to chat because he had heard our American accents (I’ve always wondered if in SE Asia, for instance, they can distinguish among different English accents—there are definitely more Australians and Germans speaking English than Americans). He was in Penang taking his mother to a cardiologist even though he lived in Idaho where he runs a Chinese restaurant. I really wanted to ask what kind of food he serves—how could someone who probably enjoys char kway teow serve kung pao to his neighbors? Maybe he could answer this question I stumbled upon today in the Boise Weekly, “Why does most of the Chinese food in Idaho, well, suck?”

Line Clear Nasi Kandar * Jalan Penang & Lebuh Chulia, Penang, Malaysia

Lorong Seratus Tahun

1/2 I try to be open minded about others’ food limitations. Even so, I will admit that while at a sushi lunch with a few workmates the other day, I was stunned to hear that crème brulee was something that one coworker’s new husband reluctantly tried for the first time on their recent Disneyworld honeymoon. “Um, that’s a delicious dessert, not something weird,” added the other luncher. Indeed.

While I don’t go in for the gross for the sake of being shocking antics, if a dish traditionally contains un unusual ingredient I definitely want to eat it the way it was intended, not toned down for delicate sensibilities. If it turns out to be loathsome? Lesson learned.

So, maybe I was being sneaky when I ordered two bowls of curry mee at Lorong Seratus Tahun, nodding yes to all of the mix-ins. I knew full well that James wasn’t going to be as enamored of pig’s blood as I.

“Should I even ask what this is?” he hesitated, poking at the jiggly crimson cubes. "Kidneys? Heart?" I had to break the bloody news, but countered that the texture isn’t much different than tofu. Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t like tofu either. I ended up with a double-dose of pig’s blood cubes.

Anyway, I loved this soup. Even though Penang laksa had undeniable hot-sour charms, I always fall for the spicy-creamy coconut milk-based soups. As you can see from the color of the prawn-enriched broth, they use a light hand with the coconut milk. This isn’t lemak as the curry laksa that’s more common in Singapore.

The fried bean curd puff soak up the flavor, cockles, shrimp and squid (not sure if that’s common or not) add chewiness from the sea and the coagulated pig’s blood? Yes, that is unusual. I suppose Portuguese combine shellfish and pork in delicious ways. Just as I can’t even imagine how it was decided to combine cuttlefish, fruit and prawn paste in rojak, I don’t how the idea of putting pig’s blood into a seafood-based soup came about either. Definitely a Chinese influence, and far from wasteful. Two types of noodles are used, both fat yellow egg noodles and rice vermicelli. You can add as much sambal as you like for extra oily spice; containers are left on the table.

I have been thinking about this bowl of curry mee off and on for the past few weeks, usually at work when I try to calculate if I have enough time to hop up to Chinatown and back during lunch. I’m not even sure where to go downtown. Nonya? New Malaysia? Skyway? Malaysian food in NYC often seems like a facsimile in ways that are harder to pinpoint than with American Thai food. I think it just comes down to ingredients and lack of a strong Malaysian/Singaporean presence in the city to keep flavors on track. I’ve had positive experiences at Taste Good in Elmhurst but that takes more planning.

As the check was brought at the close of my sushi lunch, a send-off plate of cantaloupe showed up instead of the usual orange slices. Payback time. After discussion of crème brulee and pig’s blood fears, I was faced with my own irrational won’t-touch-it dislike: melon.

Lorong Seratus Tahun  * 55 Lorong Seratus Tahun, Penang, Malaysia

Air Itam Laksa

“Laksa,” the taxi drivers hovering at the bottom of our hotel’s driveway in Penang started calling out when we’d walk past. “You like laksa! You want more laksa?” Embarrassed and a little proud, we’d have to turn then down, “No, we’re just walking.”

Penang is not a huge place, so after one of the men drove us out to Air Itam for laksa on our first day on the island, we became recognized as the laksa-lovers. I liked that about Penang, that locals were kind of amused but didn’t think it was particularly odd that the Westerners wanted to go on laksa excursions.

For contrast, in Bangkok, we used Saochingcha, the Giant Swing, as a landmark to direct taxis, not because we wanted to see the monument or the wat next to it, but Saochingcha was a word we could pronounce and that would be recognized and happened to be near a good eating neighborhood off the subway system, away from the hotel strips of Sukhumvit and Silom.

But when we asked our doorman at our first hotel to explain our destination to the cab driver (one of the most humbling aspects of traveling in a non-English or Spanish speaking country) he was discouraging and warned, “There’s nothing to do there.” Our “Oh, we’re going to eat” reassurance just baffled him further. Later in the vacation when we told the man directing cabs at MBK that we needed to get to Saochingcha he actually shook his head at another staffer and rolled his eyes.

Air Itam, a community that’s also home to Penang Hill (sadly, they closed the funicular just a week before we arrived—not that the rickety incline during a rainstorm didn’t jangle my nerves on our last visit) and Kek Lok Si temple, is just under four miles from the Gurney Drive area but feels much more isolated. I actually saw a man using a kandar, a long wooden pole atop his shoulder to carry plastic grocery bags, a modern nod, rather than balancing pots or baskets of yore. The entire area west of Air Itam on Google Maps is blank.

Air Itam is also known for its laksa. I had read that this corner stand is a tour bus stop and feared mobs, but when we arrived in the early afternoon no one else was seated at the few metal tables.

The first thing you’ll notice about this soup is that it’s much chunkier than what you typically find at stalls. They use a base that contains a larger proportion of flaked mackerel. Combined with the fat, round rice noodles just below the surface, even a smallish bowl (they have one standard size for RM3.00, which seemed to be the going rate for laksa in Penang, about 90 cents) is hearty. We were asked if we wanted chiles. Yes, and you should too. Malaysian food is spicy but rarely hot. The red chile rings meld with the sludgy topping of mint, onion, cucumber, bunga kantan (torch ginger bud—not that that means much of anything here either) and black prawn paste, and makes the whole hodgepodge taste like…well, laksa.

Easier said than done. I’ve never attempted to cook this asam style at home but my forays into laksa lemak and Sarawakian laksa (using a paste straight from the Malaysian state) fell flat. Something is lacking (don’t say love) and the flavors always end up dulled. Good enough for NYC but not great.

Air Itam Laksa * Jalan Pasar next to the Air Itam Market, Penang, Malaysia

Northam Beach Cafe

Northam Beach Café is a newer, more organized, I guess pricier, hawker center than Gurney Drive. I liked having a numbered table because who's to say you'll find a seat near where you ordered? The other benefit was a dedicated beer stand where you can get your large sized Tiger beer (we initially grabbed a bottle out of the cooler but the cashier gave us a colder one from behind the counter) and two iced mugs. Two fresh mugs each round. In Thailand they drank ice in their beer, a practice I didn't encounter in Penang.

And while there appeared to be fewer obvious tourists (I couldn't identify a Singaporean or Kuala  Lumpur resident by sight) the stalls were more international, going well beyond Malaysian classics. What convinced me to try this center in the first place was the supposed presence of a Mexican food stand. That, I needed to see. Unfortunately, it wasn't there.

Consolation prize went to La France. I do still wonder about the advertised frisee salad with lardons.

German sausages were a close second. 

My international maneuver was a mistake. I got excited when I saw the words ihawan and Filipino bbq because in the US that means sweet, smokey meat on sticks. I love it way more than satay. But they only had dinner combos and bbq pork ended up being a few fatty slices or meat drenched in a gooey sauce and served with spaghetti. If you've ever encountered sugary, wiener-laden Filipino spaghetti, you'll know it's an acquired taste. I'll eat pig's blood, shrimp paste and the like, but really do think you have to have to have grown up with this spaghetti it to love it.

Some of that perfectly pleasant satay. Chicken because they were out of mutton.

Gurney Drive has pick-a-mix pasembur where you can choose from plates and plates of fried beige things to be tossed with the sweet potato dressing. Here, you get what they give you. I like the idea of crunchy bits, seafood and vegetables tossed together but it's bland compared to rojak.

James will almost always order fried chicken when it's available and it was plentiful in both Malaysia and Thailand. I told him I saw a stand in the back corner. What I didn't tell him was that it was belcan fried chicken. He thinks that he hates shrimp paste, though I really think he just hates the smell of the block I keep wrapped up in the crisper drawer of our refrigerator. It really isn't that strong after it's been cooked, I swear. The funny thing was that he didn't notice the shrimp paste until the chicken cooled down to room temperature. The fishiness doesn't hit you over the head, instead adding rich umami undertones.

Mua chee, as they call it, is mochi. Here, steamed glutinous rice blobs drizzled with a peanut sauce. Apparently, offering a variety of flavors is unusual. You can mix two and I had pandan and black sesame. The others were sweetcorn, original and green tea.  My only quibble was that the pretty colors don't show up once peanut-coated and displayed under the night sky.

Northam Beach Café * Jalan Sultan Ahmad Shah, Penang, Malaysia

Gurney Drive Hawkers

When I first started reading user reviews of Penang's G Hotel, which is shoulder to shoulder (but not adjoining—that air conditioned, never-exposed-to-the-elements luxury is more Singaporean) with Gurney Plaza, they were almost evenly split East-West. I'm generalizing of course, but a typical Asian reviewer might say, "It's next to a mall—great location" while the Europeans (Americans barely make a dent) would be more, "It's next to a mall—ick."

Not ick because the hotel, which didn’t even exist on my last visit in 2005, is not just next to a mall, it's also across from the Gurney Drive hawkers, the best-known outdoor food court in the city. If you're a novelty-seeker like me, it doesn’t get much better than walking out of your room to beef ribs at the ground floor Chili's and rojak down the street.

Here would be said crazy salad of jicama, cucumber, pineapple, water apple (the fruit a cashew is harvested from. I know! Nuts from fruit?), cuttlefish, bean curd and Chinese crullers tossed in a thick, spicy prawn paste and topped with crushed peanuts. I am a fiend for the hot, fishy sweet. Shrimpy and fruity is likely to either disgust or charm you, no in-between.

You can buy the dressing at the stands here and probably elsewhere, too. I'm not sure what the difference is between the white-topped and red-topped jars. Perhaps one is pure prawn paste and the other has sugar and chiles added for a ready-to-use dressing.

 

Penang laksa is a totally different beast than most Malaysian laksas. Coconut milk-free and lemongrassy, the asam style is soured with tamarind and enriched with flaked mackerel. Once again, the sweet and fishy combo. Toppings usually include cucumber, pineapple, mint and torch ginger bud. The dark condiment on the spoon is black prawn paste, same as in the rojak. I don't order this in NYC because my experiences have been more bad funky (at Singapore Café there were twigs floating around in the broth) than appetizing funky.

James picked up some chicken and a few other unidentified fried tidbits served with sticks at a stall wonderfully named McTucky Fried Chicken.

 

We only made one attempt to seek out exemplary char kway teow on this visit. Loh Eng Hoo Coffee Shop, my first choice, was closed. Honestly, I'm not enough of a connoisseur to find fault with this version.

Sarsi is a sarsaparilla soda. I thought it tasted a little like Dr. Pepper. I was told to order a sugar cane juice with lime so I did. Some proprietors can be pushy, not rude more this is our specialty. If I'm correct the beverage-sellers have territories, so if you sit in their section you have to order from them.  I'll say yes to practically anything because the food is cheap even when tourist-priced. For reference, the laska above was RM3.00 (approximately 90 cents).

Gurney Drive Hawkers * North end of Gurney Dr., Penang, Malaysia

OBAO Preview

In 2006 I worked a block from where OBAO, Michael Huynh’s latest venture, is scheduled to open on Monday. The immediate area has shaped into a multi-culti lunching paradise (Güllüoglu, Barros Luco, Mantao Chinese Sandwiches) or maybe it just seems better in comparison to the Financial District blandness I’ve grown accustomed to. And I shouldn't complain so hard, we're getting a Baoguette down here.

Based on the sampling at OBAO’s preview party, there is high promise. The grilled cubes of pork belly were a little sweet with nice char and good balance between the meaty and fatty bits. Lamb chops were coated in chopped lemongrass and tasted like they’d been marinated in coconut milk. Instead of shrimp paste, thin slices of beef were wrapped around sugarcane. Bacon too. Why had I never thought of that?

Shrimp rolls and chicken satay were perfectly fine renditions, but couldn’t compete with the oomph of the pork, lamb and beef. Or maybe I just have a preference for the fatty.

I think this was a pho. It definitely was pho-like, but the poached egg threw me off.

The unknown element will be the noodles, which weren’t showcased at this event. I’m crazy for laksa and can’t decide if the non-traditional green tea soba noodles as they are touting will be a welcome tweak or just weird. Will the char kway teow also be an Asian hybrid? I’m sure I’ll get the answers soon enough.

I imagine the signage will be complete and the garbage bin removed by opening day.

OBAO * 222 E. 53 St., New York NY

Taste Good

1/2 Sometimes you need distance to see the silliness in food debates. It’s doubtful that anyone outside NYC cares about who serves the best fried chicken (though to be fair that’s more of a discussion than a debate, and a fun one). And I can say with 100% certainty that the average American has no idea what Ampang yong tau foo is, let alone whether it’s Singaporean or Malaysian. But Malaysia is all cranky over Singapore’s successful food branding (at least in the region—once again, I think they may be overestimating a worldwide perception that Singapore is a culinary destination) and are trying to play catch up.

As a Westerner who’s been to both Singapore and Malaysia, I know a very obvious way that Malaysia could differentiate themselves and appeal to global foodies: artisanal cred. Coconut milk squeezed from the flesh the not a can, cendol colored green with pandan not dye, curries from freshly pounded rempahs not packaged pastes, satay grilled over charcoal not gas. Slow food, Southeast Asian-style.

The only real effect this article had on me, though, was the need for a bowl of laksa. Lemak, a.k.a. Singaporean-style, I’m afraid. I just don’t trust that they’re going to get assam version right here. Copious amounts of coconut milk can mask more ills than sour fishy broth.

The version at Elmhurst’s Taste Good was better than I had expected. I say that because in Malaysia, as in many countries, street food is specialized and often kept to a handful of choices. How can a menu with hundreds of offerings all be good? And Taste Good uses the term laksa very loosely with a list of 35 dishes beneath that heading that include Hong Kong-style beef noodle soup, Hokkien mee, tom yum mee hoon, and both curry and assam laksas. All over the place. 

The Singapore kari laksa, in their parlance, was creamy with enough spice to cut through the richness and contained nice fat rice noodles. The menu gives no hint what the toppings might be, and there was a surprising hodgepodge: small shrimp, half a hard boiled egg, shredded chicken, slices of fish cake, bean sprouts and my favorite, fried bean curd puffs. These spongy squares absorb the broth and dispense a mouthful when you bite into them. The only thing missing was sambal and lime wedges. 

Rojak is dressed with an eerily dark sauce of sweetened, tangy prawn paste. I love it but I know many who can’t stand the smell of belacan. A woman, who appeared to be in charge, was asking a non-Malaysian Asian diner, “Doesn’t the smell bother you?” Apparently, it didn’t. Love or hate, no one is neutral on the smell of roasted shrimp paste.

Hiding under all the black goo topped with sesame seeds were jicama, pineapple, cuttlefish, cucumber, chopped peanuts and chunks of crueler. After sitting awhile, the fried dough performs the opposite function of the tasty bean curd in the laksa. I drunkenly picked at leftover rojak that evening and almost choked on all of the pungent sauce that oozed from the now mushy and disintegrating cruelers.

I’ve never heard of dry curry beef rendang noodles but here they are. Rendang seems more suited to rice, if you ask me.

For NYC Malaysian food with a Chinese bent, I was satisfied by Taste Good. Purists, I’m sure would find details to nitpick.

Taste Good * 82-18 45th Ave., Elmhurst, NY

Fatty Crab Uptown

I don't know if the relatively new uptown Fatty Crab needs a new entry here, as the food is pretty much the same as at the original location. The main differences being that the UWS branch is larger and is on Open Table (an important distinction to me since I had a $20 rewards check burning a hole in my pocket and now thanks to the recession I feel less like a rube using a coupon).

But not being a mental multitasker, I feel compelled to post these photos and impressions so I can shift my thinking to from Malaysian food to spice-averse Madrid where I'll be in less than 24 hours.

I enjoy the food at Fatty Crab, always more than I expect that I will. No, it's not wholly traditional but the flavors are strong, funky and not tamed for Americans. My only quibbles are that the service is dudely, they overexplain everything (I do realize that Malaysian food isn't as familiar as Thai or Vietnamese to most New Yorkers and from my observations diners do ask lots of questions) and upsell on top of it, the pacing is random; things come out willy nilly and there can be ten-minute gaps between dishes. And, well, I would feel better if $3-$5 were shaved off the prices across the board (quality ingredients and labor intensive prep, acknowledged). Sounds like a lot of caveats, but I really like the food.

We went cross-cultural with small plates. First up the sliders: spicy, juicy, slightly fishy little meat blobs dressed with thick pickles and aioli. These were cute and packed a lot of punch into a small toasted package.

Because I am a weirdo who doesn't like hot dogs, I was wary of the Fatty Dog, but as soon as I realized it contained a house-made sausage and not a boiled wiener I was more excited. The pork sausage contains belachan, pickled garlic and XO sauce, not wiener-y at all. Combined with pickled chiles, garlic, radish, cilantro and cucumbers and spread out on a potato roll, it's more of an open-faced sandwich than finger food.

Thick and chewy hokkien noodles were so hefty they bent my wooden chopsticks. The dark sauce is sweet from kecap manis and tarted up with a bit of black vinegar. Small strips of beef, shrimp and little clams are the main ingredients, though I was impressed with the traditional addition of tiny crispy lard cubes. In Malaysia some health-minded hawkers have been moving away from using extra pork fat, and it would be a shame to omit that much needed touch here.

Kang kong, a.k.a. water spinach was appropriately shrimp pastey and chile hot. There's a lot more here than one would think. We were actually going to do without a vegetable side but our server made it sound like we'd suffer miserably if we didn't order a $9 bowl of greens.

We were totally full by the time the short rib rendang came out; I could only eat a small chunk. Both the meat and rice are saturated with coconut milk, so it was a bit rich as the final plate of food. Thankfully, the braised dish keeps well and improves with age. Combined with leftover kang kong, it was enough for a full dinner the following night. And I just happened to have some toasted coconut lying around from a Thai pomelo salad I'd made (with grapefruit from the huge unwelcome sack I've been trying use) earlier in the week to spruce the rendang up.

After cobbling together two dinners from our food on top of using the $20 voucher, I felt less reluctant to order a $12 Fatty Sour. It was a well-made cocktail, less sour and more herbal than a typical whisky sour, my drink of choice. The inclusion of Pedro Ximenez Sherry and real maraschino cherries rather than a slice of citrus, was welcome.

Fatty Crab Uptown * 2170 Broadway, New York, NY

My Mum’s Place

I’m not sure if we were just hungry from scoping out so many restaurants embedded in maze-like malls, but this food was really good, way better than I would have expected from an eatery across the walkway from the always-busy Spageddies (Hong Kong has a chain called The Spaghetti House, which looks equally frightening). Being housed in a mall means nothing in Singapore, though; there was also a branch of Din Tai Fung, a highly regarded Taiwanese chain I tried in Beijing, around the corner.

I love Nonya cooking but James always makes a stink (ha) about the rampant use of shrimp paste in the cuisine. The strong flavors were balanced perfectly, just hot and sweet enough padded with that belachan in a way that boosted everything rather than overwhelming, kind of like a natural msg or narcotic even.

I’ve had shrimp sambals in NYC that were like eating nothing; a few sad prawns sitting in a dull ruddy puree. I’ve also made sambal, myself, a huge tub sits in my fridge that tastes like damp mush. This sambal could be a multi-purpose condiment even minus the prawns. Plain white rice is all you need to go with it, or even white bread for colonial-style tea sandwiches. Crusts removed, of course.

Kang kong (I know, I always want to say king kong because I’m corny) is another one of those things that’s lackluster in my hands (though I think our produce can take some of that blame) but vivid here. There was plenty of shrimp paste in this, yet it didn't overwhelm the water spinach in the least.

The requisite beef rendang, ordered primarily to appease James who still contests that we never had any in Malaysia and doubts its origins, altogether. This is one SE Asian dish I don’t ruin. it’s hard to destroy coconut-and-spice stewed meat, especially since it’s designed for tough sinewy cuts.

It's odd that I can't seem to find a website for this restaurant.  They were selling branded spice mixes and pastes at the front of the room, which implies broad name recognition.

My Mum’s Place * Paragon Shopping Centre, 290 Orchard Rd., Singapore

StraitsKitchen

1/2 If Food Republic, a glorified food court, nearly made me crap myself with glee, then StraitsKitchen…um, I don’t like where this metaphor is going. Let’s just say that it is the most awesome buffet in the universe. Eating in malls and hotels isn’t shameful in Singapore and I must admit that the Hyatt knows what they’re doing. In Beijing, we tried Made in China, a similar concept that served Northern Chinese dishes. StraitsKitchen also brings local fare under one roof, and presents everything slickly yet with remarkable authenticity.

Different styles of food, including Indian, Malay, soups, Chinese roasted meats and chicken rice, desserts, tropical fruits and juices, and more, were featured at individual stations.

I only regret that 9pm reservations were the only time we could finagle same day. They have two seatings and the first was fully booked. The problem being that we eat way too slow and leisurely to cram enough food into an hour and a half. I felt half-frantic the whole time, wanting to sample as many things as possible without filling up (after my super power fantasy of being able to speak and understand all languages in the world, my number one grotesque desire would be to eat and never get full or absorb the calories). Just because I like to order lots of food doesn’t mean I can actually eat it all.

My first interaction pissed me off but I quickly got over it. I walked up to the popiah station where the guy spreads out the crepe batter and makes the roll custom for you from scratch and as I was waiting a clueless Australian woman walked up and asked a million questions about what these were, then decided she wanted one so he started making ours at the same time. But then she made a fuss about not eating shrimp and not liking spice and next thing I knew he had made our two rolls exactly the same. Not all white women hate shrimp and chiles. The New Yorker in me would’ve made him re-make mine but I’m not a total bitch, and time was wasting. Instead, I brought it back to the table, sulked and unhappily picked at the half-assed popiah not made my way.

No time for tears, though. I moved on quickly to Hainanese chicken rice. I couldn’t fill up on all that rice, nice and chicken brothy as it was. I didn’t think I was going to have time to fit in this Singaporean classic during my week in town so I was happy for this quickie.

James picked out some Indian food for us to share. That’s fish head curry on the left and I think tandoori chicken, biryani and something orange on the right. Bok choy and char kway teow are hiding in the background.

Malay, my favorite. James is not so crazy about the belachan-based cuisine but I can’t get enough of the strong flavors. One of the things I appreciated about this restaurant was not dumbing down or simplifying and the offering of appropriate condiments. This plate includes beef rendang, sayur lodeh (vegetables in coconut curry), kari ayam (chicken curry) and sambal prawn.

The Malay station, conveniently located closest to our table, had those tiny olive-sized limes, numerous sambals, a pineapple-cucumber achar, and more that I’m forgetting. I think that wooden bucket that looks to be filled with rocks actually contains buah keluak, a toxic nut used in Peranakan cooking. Yep, definitely going for authenticity and atmospherics.

Moving on to Singapore with chile crab and the necessary fried mantou. Also, a few sticks of satay.

My capacity was dwindling but James brought over a bowl of super lemak laksa and I couldn’t let it go uneaten. I think he went a little wild with the garnishes.

A melting pot of desserts. I’m a freak who doesn’t like fruit even fresh beautiful tropical fruit, so just the foreign sweets for me. I had a hard time narrowing it down to just these five. Clockwise from far left: Indonesian lapis legit, Nonya ang koo, Hong Kong egg tart, Nonya kueh dadar (my favorite—I love the color green and hate that any American dessert that color is minty. I prefer my green goodies flavored with pandan) and Chinese peanut pancake.

StraitsKitchen * Grand Hyatt, 10 Scotts Rd., Singapore

What You Do Prata

1/2 I’m not ashamed to admit that a good food court is one of the few things in life I can get excited about. And by good, I mean a well-curated space offering diverse foodstuffs from the Asian continent. Essentially, an indoor hawker center (I’m not persnickety about hygiene but I do love me some air conditioning).

Singapore really takes the cake in this genre, which isn’t surprising since they prefer modern tidiness over grit. Yes, some might say soulless compared to say, Malaysia, Vietnam…or really anywhere in Southeast Asia. Of course you can eat outside in Singapore too; it’s just that everything’s organized and regulated in comparison.

I love the Food Republic concept. I even watched a television segment about its founder while recuperating in our hotel (one of the many evening spent lying in bed rather than gallivanting around town—I got like zero drinking accomplished on vacation). The thing about these restaurant collections is that for the most part, they’re not mega-chains, many are extensions or evolutions of local eateries, and you won’t find all of the same establishments in each mall.

I first stumbled upon a Food Republic in the Wisma Atria and they had a little of everything: Hainanese chicken rice, herbal soups, sushi, dim sum, laska and so on. We vowed to return for dinner but after spending all day going from mall to mall (nearly all of the shops on Orchard Road are connected) we had strayed too far to go back, plus, we’d already discovered a million other places where we wanted to eat (ultimately, My Mum’s Place in Paragon across from the always packed, distressingly named, Spageddies.)

Our last night in Singapore, after eating so-so Indonesian food at House of Sundanese in Suntec City we did the mall-to-mall crawl and eventually found ourselves in another Food Republic. This one was classy and designed to look like a library with green-shaded desk lamps, wood tables, book wallpaper and padded leather signage. Seriously? A library-themed food court full of amazing Southeast Asian treats in a ginormous mall?! I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced this level of awesome before.

We desperately need an NYC Food Republic. The equivalent would be going to…well, we don’t have real malls in Manhattan. But imagine a giant suburban mall at Union Square. There would be a food court but minus any McDonald’s or KFCs (they would be in the mall, as they are in Singapore, but not as part of the food court). Instead, you might find some of the beloved Red Hook vendors. You couldn’t get DiFara but definitely those Artichoke guys (they’re expanding, right?). Obviously, street cart favorites like Kwik Meal and Calexico could be there. You could go trendy with a salumeria stand, porchetta and charcuterie too. There would have to be bbq, bagels, oh, and deli food and hot dogs but not Junior’s or Nathan’s who would certainly jump on the wagon, Rachael Ray would also want her burgers represented but the public would demand a Shake Shack satellite (I say the public because I’ve never eaten there. Weird, I know) Will Goldfarb could pretend Picnick never happened and get in on the desserts. Duh, and a speakeasy stall, mixology for the masses. Alcohol is one thing Singaporean malls totally lack because they are lame that way. There would have to be drinks. The theme could be Gangs of New York and it could be decked out like Tamanay Hall. Or maybe the Immigrant Experience, yes, the second location in midtown would have Ellis Island memorabilia everywhere. I see pushcarts, newsies and chamber pots.

Do note the books tucked into the shelves in front of the stands. No eating in the library?

Many of the Food Republic shops are showy with big picture windows letting diners watch their Chinese donuts being kneaded, cut and deep fried in a giant oil-filled wok. Or their prata being rolled out and filled with tasty stuffings…

I could only make room for something small, I mean, I wasn’t going to not try something, so James and I shared a cheese prata with the default vegetarian curry containing a lone okra pod. The griddled pancakes weren’t too oily and there was just a hint of mild white cheese (I couldn’t say what type). There’s no getting around the fact that prata are heavy, though. I restrained myself from ordering two and then thought twice when I noticed the woman in front of my getting three (if I were truly nosy, I could’ve followed her to see if she was dining with two others). I am always humbled by the culinary fortitude of Asian girls.

I didn’t realize the name of the stall was What You Do Prata until we were leaving. Despite the silly moniker, the food is a notch more serious. They have guy who makes your prata on demand. I was kind of paralyzed by indecision because in NYC we only have roti canai, no choice of filling or sauce. Here, you could have egg, onion, cheese, combinations of those or meat, but then I think chicken or mutton makes a prata become a murtabak. And there were curries in steam table trays behind glass. Everyone else seemed to know what everything was despite no labels.

Typically in Southeast Asia I haven’t been stymied by language barriers, Singapore is super English-friendly, it’s the food customs. I was thinking of this when I read about Ferran Adria being taken to Katz’s. Even though he could communicate with the Dominican counter guy in Spanish, it’s not like he knew how and what to order.

Roti canai, a flaky, layered pancake that’s always served with a little cup of curry that usually contains as small bone-in chicken piece and one potato chunk, is something you’ll often see as an appetizer in Malaysian restaurants in NYC. I’ve since realized this is weird. For one, what we call roti is prata in Southeast Asia. That’s fine, just a semantics issue. It only occurred to me this time, on my third visit to Singapore, that roti, prata, whatever, isn’t even Malay (though it could be argued that it is Malaysian). It’s something you find at Muslim Indian stalls, a style that I’ve heard called mamak (don’t know if that’s an un-PC term or not). So, Malaysian restaurants in New York, which are run by ethnic Chinese serving Muslim Indian food, are really no different than the American restaurants run by Brits or Australians in Asia that serve tacos, bbq and Cajun food all together.

But more importantly, I have no idea how to categorize prata. Prata is a Singaporean bastardization of Indian paratha so is it Singaporean because it's part of the country's culture or still Indian? Malaysians would claim prata too and they are more Muslim than Singaporeans so is it also Malaysian? Ok, I'm going to call it Malaysian and Singaporean but not Indian, convoluted as it may seem. The closest local example I can think of is whether gyros are Greek or American. It's crazy when food starts making me think like a librarian.

What You Do Prata * Suntec City, 3 Temasek Blvd., Singapore

Skyway Malaysian

1/2  Assessing a restaurant based on two take out dishes is never wise. So I won’t. My foray to Skyway Malaysian was kind of peripheral anyway. I wanted to make something non-labor-intensive for Christmas Eve dinner, but still interesting and most likely S.E. Asian. This meant no complex spice and herb pastes because I don’t have the energy for pounding or foraging for obscurities.

I initially researched devil curry recipes before it dawned on me that I just made that Eurasian holiday meal two years ago. Duh. Even if no one else reads this site, it at least serves as a great memory-prodder for me. I don’t think Alzheimer’s runs in my family (though that’s hard to determine since no one makes it past 60) but keeping track of life’s minutiae might prove become practical in a decade or so.

As it turned out the only ingredient I needed for my roast chicken was kecap manis, oh, and the chicken, which still precipitated a four-subway-stop trip to Chinatown. I’m all about efficiency so decided to pick up a vegetable side dish at Skyway, just a block from Hong Kong Supermarket at the F station. Shrimp and green beans seemed right with chicken. I had to stop myself from ordering the curry fish head casserole because that would be overkill.

I couldn’t resist getting prawn mee to go, though. It could be a late lunch (I didn’t end up eating it until 7pm so now my dining schedule is screwed up). I hate dining in restaurants alone or else I would’ve just eaten the soup on the spot. Luckily, they do package the broth separately from the noodles, shrimp, kangkong and hard boiled egg, so sogginess is averted.

I was imaging a more coconut milk-based, Singapore laksa-like soup but this was a deep, spicy, very shrimpy broth. I could just eat a big bowl of the liquid but the chiles might make me cough if I slurped too fast. My only criticism is that it was a little too salty. But I’m very sensitive to salt, so it might be spot on for an average palate. I'm not sure why the broth looks frothy after I combined the two plastic tubs.

All I can say is thank god that I’m stuck here for the holidays. The sidewalk in front of Skyway happens to be one of those cheap Chinatown bus’s stops, and there was a massive luggage-toting crowd filling the entire stretch of Allen Street and blocking the door to the restaurant. It looked like a fun bunch of people: pushy non-lining-up Chinese and African Americans mocking the way the driver was saying Richmond. Ok, it did sound like he was yelling, “Reecheemon” but everyone knows you’re supposed to make fun of others quietly. Uh, or on your blog.

I was thinking the subway wouldn’t be crowded even though it was rush hour because the city had thinned out for Christmas, but no luck. I still had to stand with all my bags and the seated woman I was hovering near began covering her nose. “Oh shit, my shrimp paste.” I’d also bought a baggie of dried shrimp at the grocery store, which couldn’t be helping matters. I felt nervous for a second, then I was like, “Fuck you and this whole subway car. Oh, and seasons greetings.” I’m annoyed on a daily basis by my fellow riders, so grossing out strangers for fifteen minutes on Christmas Eve was the least of my concerns. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it.

Thank you, Skyway for empowering me to shed my usual self-consciousness. I should stink up subway cars more often—a lofty goal for 2008.

Skyway Malaysian * 11 Allen St., New York, NY

Fatty Crab

I finally broke down. Twenty-two months seemed like sufficient elapsed time to try Fatty Crab, a restaurant I was certain would make me grumpy. I first read about this soon-to-open meatpacking eatery while in Kuala Lumpur. Making Malaysian food palatable, nay, trendy to a Manhattan audience would seem no small feat so I was intrigued. But I was bothered by the name (why would you name a restaurant after a popular place that already exists in its home country? I would have the same problem if a Malaysian opened an upscale hot dog joint and called it Gray’s Papaya) and pedigree (Zak Pelaccio’s short-lived Chickenbone Café was one of my most loathed dining experiences in world history).

But I’ve been on a mission to try more new restaurants and not-so-new ones that I’ve intentionally overlooked (like Dressler last night—likeable food, mildly creepy crowd, at least in my section) and Fatty Crab definitely fit the latter category. So, I sucked it up and went in with an open mind. And…it was really, really good, ok?

I could get past the prices. It never makes sense when people complain about reinterpreted street food inflation. Of course in KL nasi lemak costs $3 (or less) not $16. And $3,000+ rentals aren’t normal there either. There’s Chinatown dim sum and Chinatown Brasserie’s version. It’s a choice, and I like both low and high (though I’m inclined to eat the cheapie renditions more often).

I was even able to overcome my severe melon aversion (I will concede that watermelon is the least offensive all melons) in order to try the watermelon pickle and crispy pork salad. Initially, I thought that I could’ve eaten way more of those luscious singed, blubbery cubes but I was quickly proven wrong after two (and about an hour later I developed a serious stomachache—I hope I’m not turning into those killjoy elderly folks who can’t handle anything rich or spicy). The sour rind coupled with the crisp sweetness of fresh fruit was kind of perfect with the meat.

I was bummed to note that laksa was no longer on the menu. I would’ve been good with a bowl of pungent fish and noodles. Instead, I settled for the skate panggang, which was appropriately hot and shrimp pasty (thanks to the sambal udang kering). Shrimp paste is the one ingredient that I thought would be a tough sell for New Yorkers. The first thing I noticed when entering the cramped nearly empty (it was 3:30pm--there was no way I was subjecting myself to a late night wait) dining room was the light perfume of toasty fermented shrimp. I like the odor but it seriously smells up a house (James can’t stand it and makes me keep my block of belacan wrapped tightly in plastic in the downstairs refrigerator crisper drawer).

We really overdid it with the fatty duck, which wasn’t my idea. The soy-based preparation was more Chinese in nature and also came blanketed with strips of pickled vegetable and slivered chiles to offset the poultry’s obvious fattiness. I don’t think I’ve typed the word fatty so many times in short space.

I’ll never be able to understand Zak Pelaccio’s absurd over saturation (Chodorow partnering? London? Ratatouille #1, Ratatouille #2. And I’m still not ok with all those mentions of his parents’ loft in the New York Times last summer) but sambal belecan with a Bloc Party soundtrack? It kind of works.

Fatty Crab * 643 Hudson St., New York, NY

Madam Kwan's

I can't think of a New York equivalent off hand. Madam Kwan's isnt touristy because locals eat there too. I guess it's overpriced if you compare its menu to hawker equivalents, but its not expensive. $3 for a bowl of laksa is still a bargain to me. Madam Kwans is the kind of restaurant where youd take out-of-towners for Malaysian classics without folding tables and plastic chairs.

James wanted rendang (as he did all trip long) and I figured they'd have it here. They did in a nasi lemak platter. I had high end curry laksa with unorthodox add ins like eggplant and curlicued chayote(?). A young Malaysian couple whod been on the elevator with us, were seated nearby and ordered exactly the same two dishes, he the nasi lemak, she the laksa. Who knows if that's any testament to our brilliant ordering skills, but I like to think so.

Madam Kwan's * Suria KLCC, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Ahwa Coffeeshop

1/2It's a rarity for me, but I'm going to have a go at this one in (blurry) photos because I happen to have to have so many from this particular meal. I spent Merdeka with some equally food obsessed near-strangers I met on the internet who were kind enough to chauffeur us around and show us the best of Kuala Lumpur. We never wouldve found this suburban hawker center in Petaling Jaya without them.

Hokkien mee. We also had a version with rice vermicelli, which isn't
pictured. Lardy, greasy goodness.

Squid with kang kung (water spinach). It's peanutty.

Or chien (oyster omelet)

Chicken satay. I think--there was also beef at the table.

Balitong, a kind of snail/whelk creature that's nearly impossible
to suck out

Bbq stingray with a tasty condiment made of cincalok (fermented
shrimp--James thought it was fish sauce, which is for the best)
and lime juice.

Ahwa Coffeshop * near Jalan 222, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia

Sister's

1/2 Penang was mildly trying at first. We didn't have our bearings or any sense of distance. Knowing the trouble with S.E. Asian taxi drivers and their awareness of street names (street names aren't even posted on street corners, which is incredibly frustrating and time wasting) and how buildings aren't always numbered at all or in any logical sequence, we took a cab from the hotel straight down Penang Rd. to KOMTAR, a landmark we figured couldn't be messed up. From a map we had it looked like Sisters was two blocks or so from KOMTAR on an off shooting street named Macalister.

Of course the roads weren't labeled so it was impossible to deduce which was Macalister without walking down one until you found out otherwise. We finally got on track and began a trek that was definitely more than two blocks. We wearily continued our journey for supposedly the best char kway teow in Penang (if not all of Malaysia, and hence the world) looking for Jalan Perak, the cross street. It took a good 25 minutes before we finally found our roadside stand. And then the ordering trauma began.

Do you order up front where the old lady is cooking like a hawker stall? Do you sit down at a table and hope that your order gets taken. It all makes sense after you've done it once and get accustomed to the drill but this was our first meal in Malaysia and we did it all out of order. We kept waiting to be acknowledged up front at the stove, but it was frenzied and didn't feel right. English didn't seem to help things along much either. We told a male staff member next to the cooking area that we wanted two large orders of noodles and then looked for a place to sit. The restaurant was packed, we squeezed into the last available mini table way in the back near the sink where old men kept coming and hacking loogies.

After a coma inducing wait (I began to recall reviews I'd read about slow service. Oh, and how expensive Sisters is. Maybe in comparison to the norm of Penang, but $1 a plate wont invoke any cries from New Yorkers) we figured out the routine and that we'd mangled it. It was very simple. You find a seat, sit down, and a waitress will come take your order and the food will arrive quite some time later. I actually think they forgot our order because we hadn't done it right in the first place. It took nearly an hour to get two plates of noodles

But the char kway teow was really freaking good and became our benchmark for the rest of the trip (none surpassed it). If ordering wasn't such an ordeal I swear we'd have had seconds. It was spicy and a little sweet, the ingredients were charred around the edges not soggy like many renditions. And yes, this is a greasy dish, the serving swatch of banana leaf was slicked with orange oil. But hot and oily is a good thing. Others we tried were more sweet and wet.

I didn't encounter any CKT in Singapore or Malaysia that contained Chinese sausage, which I always thought was typical. Apparently its not. Bean sprouts, shrimp, broad noodles, dark soy, egg are all basics. Lard is traditional, though I'm not sure what Sisters used because we were scared the cook was going to throw rotten cockles or something at us if we got too close and bugged her again.

Now were like old hands, total char kway teow experts (ok, not really—but these people are) We could find Sisters in a pinch. The problem is when will we ever get back to Penang? We really need Star Trek style holoports to make world dining more practical. Ok, I swear thats the last food geeky thing Ill write…but you have to admit it would be pretty cool to pop up in Penang for lunch, then get back to your midtown office unnoticed. 

Sister's * Jalan Macalister near Jalan Perak, Penang, Malaysia

Oversea Asian

It's strange that I have such a S.E. Asian food fixation—I'm visiting Singapore for the second time next month—but never eat that cuisine in NYC. I think its because this isnt the city for doing that style right, not that I'm an expert by any means. But vegetables, herbs and fish just arent the same half way around the globe. It's not like Manhattan is teeming with pandan, coconuts, rau ram, and Sri Lankan crabs (preferred species for chili crab). Regardless, I needed a restaurant near F train Chinatown (because its super hot out and after shopping at Hong Kong Super market on Allen St., there was no way I was heading to the heart of Canal St. for dinner) and Oversea Asian fit the bill.

When I arrived shortly after work, the room was primarily filled with guys drinking BYOB Heineken and Guinness. I don't know if they were staff just kicking back because it wasn't busy or if they were just hanging out. I wasn't sure if the fact that none of them were eating was a good sign or not.

James finally showed up (it goes without saying that whenever I meet anyone for dinner, I will always be the one kept waiting. I'm not sure if this says something about me or the company I keep) and we ordered a roti canai to share, which Ill admit is odd since its really no more than one serving, but we also wanted chicken satay. The skewered meat was right on, slightly sweet and charred around the edges, the peanut sauce oily, rich and slightly spicy (though James preferred dipping his poultry pieces into the leftover roti canai curry, which wasn't a half bad idea).

We then moved on to mee goreng (I was just reading an account on a message board how someones mother got food poisoning in Malaysia and when they asked the doctor what ailment she had, he replied, “mee goreng.” I don't know why I find that anecdote so amusing, but I hope I don't catch any mee groeng while I'm visiting), which you never know what is going to be stir fried into the mess of egg noodles. Shrimp and tomatoes seemed like okay additions, but there was also bean curd, possibly potato and flat crispy shards, kind of like scallion pancake pieces. I didnt mind the mish mash. Sambal shrimp, a little heavier on the onion and green pepper than shrimp, was more of an accompaniment. We probably shouldve ordered a more proper entre, but its not like we left starving.

Oversea Asian Restaurant * 49 Canal St., New York, NY

Banana Leaf

1/2 I don't really know what to make of this place, but became curious after reading one of those tiny off the menu blurbs in the NY Times about a new Malaysian restaurant in Bay Ridge with a chef who had been at Vong and Mercer Kitchen. The components just seemed odd. And after never hearing a peep about it anywhere in any press or from anyone, it became even more suspect. During my last week living in neighboring Sunset Park, I had to check it out since it wasn't likely I'd be in the area again soon.

It's just south of the BQE, tucked in that little old-timey strip rife with Irish bars. I was amused by the restaurant's subtitle, Malaysian bistro. Highfalutin'? We were the only diners, and it quickly became apparent that their business is made up almost exclusively of take-out orders. And there's the weird dichotomy. The neighborhood seems to view this upwardly mobile, aspiring above hole-in-the-wall Chinese, as a take-out joint. Yet terms like foam and coulis do not appear on most chop suey, fried rice menus. The plates are artfully arranged, carefully garnished, sauces are dabbed and drizzled. Presentation is a big part of their thing, which obviously wouldn't translate in a cardboard container. And the menu's not terribly Malaysian, there was some roti canai, beef rendang, rojak, nasi lemak and the like. But there were also Vietnamese pork chops, Thai noodles and curries, as well as Japanese flourishes. And to be honest, the food was pretty average, but it tasted better to me because they were really trying to do something different.

The desserts were what really gave me a kick. They had a separate dessert menu, implying they take that course seriously. Chendol and bur bur cha cha were present, but I went for the innocent sounding banana parfait, primarily because kueh was listed as an ingredient. I'm crazy obsessed with those gummy colorful layered confections. A triangle of banana cake came positioned on top of three pastel keuh wedges, topped with homemade peanut ice cream and streaked with chocolate sauce. So bizarre, but so satisfying. I'm afraid this place won't make it, it's in a weird spot and I don't know that they're pushing their unique take on classics hard enough for anyone who would be interested to take notice.

Banana Leaf * 6814 Fourth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Nyonya

1/2 I've only ever eaten at the Nyonya in Chinatown where the service has that odd Asian curtness (like the waitress telling my sister and her friend visiting from England they couldn't have two orders of the same stuffed tofu. "Too much food," "order another one if you're still hungry.") Being in Brooklyn, perhaps the Sunset Park branch would be more relaxed. It was Chinatown bustling at 10pm on a weeknight, but not harried.

We ordered the requisite roti canai, then a smoky char kway teow and house special shrimp, which were mammoth and in a totally rich, almost black sauce, heavy on the shrimp paste, which I love. After toasting shrimp paste for a homemade curry, James declared I'd finally achieved that Asian store smell in the privacy of my own apt. Yeah, it's pungent, but it always bothers me how cookbooks will substitute anchovy paste instead...and ginger for galangal. Bah. I got my Malaysian fix without a hitch. The only dilemma is squelching my perpetual laksa craving in favor of food that can be shared. I prefer variety, and laksa will plain fill you up. Maybe the gluttonous solution would be to get the laksa to go? Coconut milk overdose all around.

Nyonya* 5323 Eighth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Franklin Station Cafe

1/2 I've always wondered what Tribeca French-Malaysian would be like, and now that I've sampled some I'm still not too sure. Granted, I went for breakfast, not the most representative meal of the day. The place offers legitimate Malaysian dishes like laksa, rendang and satay along side roasted turkey and tuna salad sandwiches. It's not fusion, and based upon the seemingly Malaysian and French duo working behind the counter, appears to be a friendship arrangement. Unfortunately, I can only comment on the unadventurous ham and cheese omelet I ate. Boring, I know, but it didn't seem right to risk congee in a non-Chinese establishment.

Franklin Station Cafe * 222 W. Broadway, New York,NY

Jaya Malaysian

Urges are weird and unpredictable. Right in the middle of lifting weights, I got the strongest craving for laksa, not even real laksa, but this odd semi-authentic version I used to eat all the time in Portland. Laksa thoughts continued to pop up in my head for days afterward, but it wasn't until the following week that I was able to seek out my fix. This craving prompted a conversation where I was asked if I had food urges even when I wasn't hungry. Well, of course. Isn't that normal? Not that I'll always follow through. A giant piece of cheesecake may sound good, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go out and eat some every time it crosses my mind. I'd like to hear from you freaky types who only crave food when you're actually hungry.

Anyway, Nyonya is usually my first choice Malaysian, but you've got to branch out sometimes. I've walked by Jaya enough times and not gone in that it seemed worth a try. They didn't have the turnip cake or mee siam like I was hoping for, but they did have a good, cheap roti canai, a whole section separate from soups devoted exclusively to laksa and a rambutan beverage. I always have to check for the rambutan on the menu (not that I order it, but I've gotten a kick out of the demented fruit ever since I first laid eyes on the prickly beasts in Toronto).

The main thing is that my laksa craving was temporarily sated. And it's not every day that you can wolf down a bowl filled with spicy oil and coconut milk without thinking of your arteries just a little bit. Gone are the days of yore ('95-'97) when I could eat a bowl or two a week without even blinking an eye. The weird thing is that I'm so used to the fake laksa that I think I prefer it. Jaya's had thick yellow egg noodles when I'm used to rice vermicelli (actually this is the only difference that I really miss). Jaya's broth was much spicier and yellower--more curry or tumeric, I guess. Now that I think about it, the fake laksa's broth was more like the roti canai gravy, minus the potatoes. Gravy? Broth? It's all the same. I do that I ate a bowl filled with a satisfying liquid, left stuffed (but not ill) and in a pretty good mood.

Jaya Malaysian Restaurant * 90 Baxter St., New York,NY

Penang

I'd never noticed the bar and grill addition to the name. I'm wary of food quality in a place with a happy hour. I've also never been inclined to eat at this outpost even though I walk by it frequently. Why bother when Nyonya is so much better and cheaper (I've never understood the relation between all the Penangs and the few Nyonyas)? But I was feeling lazy and it was within walking distance.

There's a high kitsch value going on at Penang. It's a borderline tiki lounge with fake, crumbling exposed brick walls, rock wall fountains (with either leftover Christmas "angel hair" or fungus sprouting from it), and plenty of bamboo. You're supposed to feel as if you're dining in the open, but it's hard to get the east village out of your head and think Malyasia even though it's screaming at you.

The food just didn't have any punch. The beef satay was fine, same for the roti canai, the beef rendang was also o.k., but a basil chicken dish tasted like gloppy Chinese take out, Now that I think about it, the only clunker was the basil chicken. I suppose the food was non-offensive, but just not worth it in a city with many other Malaysian choices. (1/25/01)

*This location is history. (6/11/04)

Penang Bar and Grill * 64 Third Ave, New York, NY