Peckish For Pizza At Patty And Pie

"There's this pizza place that's better than your favourite pizza place," I was told.

Challenge accepted, which meant going to Aman Suria, which I tend to avoid because of the traffic, where Patty and Pie was. I can't believe it's been there for four years. Although, I think that's almost how long I stayed away from the area.

My informants claimed that the pizzas are good here - perhaps even better than - my "favourite pizza place" - because of the centrepiece of its sedate cement and wood interior: a wood-fire oven. However, as its name suggests, Patty and Pie also offers a interesting array of burgers.

Unfortunately, I have only one increasingly picky stomach, and my informants were occupied elsewhere, so I settled for pie rather than patty.

I was also nursing a bit of homesickness for my "favourite pizza place" that had packed up for greener pastures but seems to have neglected informing others of where it had moved. The Other Pizza Place, of course, uses an electric or gas oven. Certainly no wood was involved.

The charm of a wood-fire oven isn't just that it's old-school, burns wood, is made of bricks (which adds to the aesthetics of a hipster-luring décor) and adds smokiness to whatever it bakes. It can achieve higher temperatures that can bake a pizza quicker, giving the crust a better crispy-chewy ratio and keeps the toppings from drying out too much from long cooking times.

This is akin to the afterburner-like stoves in Chinese restaurants that bestow woks their searing temperatures - the wok hei - that flash-cooks ingredients while stir-frying, preserving their goodness.

As it is with old-school equipment, wood-fire ovens are more mercurial and messy and require more skill and work to use compared with modern gas or electric ovens, but it means bakers who know the former inside and out have added hipster cred and bragging rights.

Of all the pizza flavours, two stood out almost immediately: Anchovies, and Quattro Formaggi, which blends four types of cheese. I also noticed the Half-and-Half option, which allows you to try two flavours, albeit in one 14-inch pie.

As the waiter left with my order, Sade's voice drifted in from the sound system. Funny, it doesn't sound like the original edition.

Face to face, each classic case
We shadow box and double cross, yet need the chase...

I'm hungry now, I mused. By the time it's baked I'll be famished enough - probably.

I had the chance to see Patty and Pie's wood-fire oven close up (not too close, though) and in action. The action inside is pretty sedate, sonically, but I could feel the heat. Anything will cook fast inside that flaming cavern at maximum temperature.

The guy at the counter claimed that only a handful of restaurants - presumably in the Klang Valley - have wood-fire ovens. One SOULed OUT branch has one, and I know of Coconut House and Enorme at Petaling Jaya. It's not just the hassle of building and maintaining one. The guy who helps build these ovens is an Italian, apparently, and he has his own restaurant.

Makes sense. You wouldn't want too much competition, and how much wood is out there to comfortably burn for cooking?

My Half-and-Half: one part Carne (meat) and the other Anchovies, eventually arrived. A warped disc, rough and charred at its uneven edges. One one side, strips of beef brisket, minced meat and sausage slices with the odd jalapeño ring, and on the other, pitted black olives, capers, brown bits of canned anchovies and silver-grey countershaded chunks of brined anchovies - all on a bed of melted cheese.

As I admired the shine on the pie, Sade's mellifluous voice was replaced by a guttural chorus of deep voices chanting in an alien language, followed by another voice and some familiar words.

I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me
Girl, you just don't realise what you do to me...

Oh, yes. Feed me now.

Out of respect for the wood-fire oven and the hands that baked it, I dispensed with the cutlery and dug in with my hands. Ooh, the tactile feel of the crust and the aroma of superheated cheese, animal flesh and spices.

Was it hunger, the ambience, or the mix of cheese, grease and meat juice that hit the spot that made the slice of pie so good? Or the fact that my longing for pizza was fulfilled?

Whatever. Being able to eat pizza again felt great. I can't say I took my time, though. I was famished, after all.

After two more slices, I was curious about the other side. A kopitiam-based pizza stall turned me on to the pungent, saline tang of anchovies, and I've cooked with it once, substituting salt with canned anchovies.

The taste reminded me of what I had read about garum, an ancient Roman condiment made of fermented fish guts (anchovy was supposedly one of the species used). I hesitate to compare it with belacan, mostly because I have no idea what garum tastes like.

Also, John Lennon's crooning made it hard to visualise myself lying on a divan, eating bread dipped in a salty, umami-laden ancient fish sauce while looking over the shoreline in a Mediterranean setting.

Imagine there's no heaven, it's easy if you try
No hell below us, above us only sky...

The whole pitted olives were a bit of a handful, so I pulled them apart and distributed the bits as evenly as I could across the anchovy half of the partially eaten pie. Then I picked up a slice, folded it and went CHOMP.

BAM went the first sharp tang of salt. This was from the canned anchovies, the small brown slivers of fish I was familiar with. What was less familiar were the anchovy chunks that resembled the fish they used to be - fresher-looking, and tasting and smelling of fish oil, with a somewhat flaky texture reminiscent of salt-cured ikan kembung.

This would've been good, if not for the salt level. One time I wished they used less toppings on a pizza. Did I mention there were capers in there, too? Dear g*d, this should have come with health warnings for people on low- or no-sodium diets.

By the time I decided to switch back to the more bearable meat pizza slices, Lennon was joined by the rest of his gang for a rendition of one of their greatest hits.

It's been a hard day's night and I been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log...

Not that it helped. My cardiovascular system was sending (imaginary) alarm bells over the level of sodium I introduced into it - how was I to know? And two slices remained, challenging me to take them home for later instead.

I was also starting to feel full. Now I began to slow down.

I alternated between slices of DAMN SALTY and not salty pizza until the plate was empty. I was going to need something to counter all that salt from the anchovies and capers. Meanwhile, Lennon and gang moved on to another tune.

I'll give you all I got to give if you say you'll love me too
I may not have a lot to give but what I got I'll give to you
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love...

Perhaps, but money can buy me pizza, and on some days that's just as good. But the days I could wallop a 14-inch pizza by myself without a sweat are behind me. I won't be doing this for a long while.

Leaving to explore the neighbourhood, I found a fruit shop - one or two doors away from Patty and Pie - that had what I needed: a healthy after-dinner snack of papaya and dragon fruit.

Oh, nuts, I should have asked for a banana to balance out the sodium.

Is P&P better than my favourite pizza place, which has relocated to g*d-knows-where in SEA Park? (Somebody let me know if you find it; I was told they were going to share space with another retailer.) It's good, I grudgingly admit, but the favourite has my preferred flavours and sizes, with more tolerable levels of sodium.

And I'm still hoping that I'll find That Other Pizza Place again. (Then again, maybe not. Oh well, life goes on.)

Well, at least now I have another venue for entertaining guests. Preferably during weekends, when the traffic isn't so heavy.

---

Patty & Pie

40, Jalan PJU 1/45
Aman Suria
47301 Petaling Jaya
Selangor

Probably pork-free

Tuesdays to Sundays: Noon–3pm, 6–10pm
Closed on Mondays

+ 603-7886 5352

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A Soup Kitchen For The Urban Soul

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 07 September 2017


n my search for healthier eating places, I heard about this soup-centric destination and thought, what a godsend.

It was hard to find, even after I referred to Google Maps. I ended up wandering around the Jalan Tun Mohd Fuad area for a bit that evening until I looked up.

Look up when looking for Alison Soup House.

Oh.

I climbed the stairs towards Alison Soup House, a mostly white and wood-brown dining space ― not large, but cosy. I looked down and saw a poodle meandering about. Turning around, there was a closed-off dining nook that was once the balcony.

A dog-friendly restaurant? How quaint. It balances the cat café located a few doors away.

What I noticed the most were the aromas. Wood. Soups. Coffee, if you're in luck. Wherever you were born, it doesn't matter; the aromas remind you of home. The calming atmosphere sets in almost immediately ― unless you dislike dogs.

The staff were helpful, especially the lady boss Alicia. "Alison" is the portmanteau of her and her husband Derson's names. The Chinese soups are the highlight of their menu, which feature their families' recipes and the couple's own inventions.

Depending on what you order, you will get a bowl of multigrain rice, or your soup will have brown rice beehoon or mee sua in it.

The pumpkin walnut soup with bacon bits is very comforting.

Besides the usual, which can be as basic as ABC Soup, festive and daily specials can include Western brews such as a thick pumpkin and walnut soup with bacon bits, a black bean and pork rib soup (eyeing that), and the familiar bak kut teh, with real herbs and fall-off-the-bone pork ribs, which was being sold during the long Merdeka weekend.

When I first came here at the end of June or early July, Alison Soup House (henceforth known as ASH) was still at the soft-launch stage, so not much was being offered. But there was only one of me.

I picked a Six-Treasure Herbal Soup to go with a bowl of brown rice, and I asked for a much smaller bowl of a lotus root soup with pork rib ― just to sample.

The Six Treasures (since upgraded to seven) herbal soup and Lotus Root Soup
with pork rib are sure to remind you of home.

I loved the soups.

The Six Treasures was brewed with six herbs and came with a grilled pork belly ― and a lot of herby bits. Can the latter be eaten? Alicia assured me they can.

ASH's lotus root soup, meanwhile, is hearty, meaty and fragrant. This is not the stuff some rice stalls serve.

The folks at ASH claim to simmer their broths for at least 10 hours, resulting in broths that are richer in flavour and nutrients. Proof: the bones for that bak kut teh gave way like a soft cookie when pressed.

Also, MSG is not used and the meats come from animals that are fed with natural food and not pumped with antibiotics.

I've been sending friends their way ever since, especially those with strict diets and a tendency to fall sick.

ASH started offering more side dishes, including green veggies, plates of char siew and roast pork, and pork satay. But this time, the little poodle ― Alicia's dog, Spikey ― started nosing and barking at me. For something as big as two cats, it was LOUD.

Alison Soup House's version of that old favourite ― bak kut teh.

When I brought Sam and Wendy over, the former was recovering from a bout of flu. Sam wisely chose what's now called the Seven-Treasure Herbal Soup (upgraded from six), which she liked ("Full of flavour!").

She also had a bit of of Wendy's fiery spicy pork soup, which Wendy poured into separate bowls for us. It came with beehoon, tofu, pork and was REALLY SPICY.

In contrast, my Red Dates, Shiitake Mushroom and Chicken Soup with brown rice beehoon tasted so clean.

A hint of sweetness was there, but little else ― was it due to the spicy soup I tried prior? I can imagine a meatless version of this being a hit with weight-watchers and clean-eaters.

White pepper pork soup for those who like their soup with some kick.

A taste of the pork satay was courtesy of Irene, whom I brought along on another visit on another evening. Spikey was still spiky about my presence at ASH. It barked like a gun upon seeing me at the door. Maybe Alicia should rename it "Thunder."

Irene did not seem as enthusiastic about the menu, but other than the bits of spring onion in her soup, which she meticulously picked out, she had no complaints.

I do remember her saying nice things about the pork satay. Well-balanced proportions of flesh and fat from properly sourced and marinated meat speak for themselves.

The pork satay at Alison Soup House for those who love their pork.

As I reminisce, I think of the old haunts that had closed shop over the years since I started writing. Many of them were opened and run by younger people like Alicia and Derson: youthful enough to dream, energetic enough to chase those dreams, and resilient enough to bounce back when reality hits ― at least, in the early days.

Irene wondered whether places like ASH ― upstairs restaurants that are hard to spot from ground level and cater to niche markets ― can survive in the current economy. At the time, so did I.

Later, checking Instagram, I saw that Sam and Wendy were back at ASH at the tail of the long weekend. That gave me a glimmer of hope. Perhaps Alicia and Derson, their cosy little restaurant and, yes, even little Spikey will be fine.

---

Alison Soup House

6A (1st Floor), Jalan Tun Mohd Fuad 2
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Non-halal

Tue-Fri: 11am-3:30pm, 5:30pm-10pm
Weekends: 11am-10pm

Closed on Mondays

+6012-737 2085

hello.alisonfood@gmail.com

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Uptown Craft: Rekindling A Taste For Food And Adventure

Standing Theory. Gee and Geek. Flingstones. The Coffee Sessions. Fork D World. Not having them around would take getting used to.

To say I was depressed when these venues folded is an understatement. It's enough to make me quit writing about food, even to scratch a mental itch.

With this cloud hanging above my head, I made my way through the evening rush-hour traffic to a pizza place at Damansara Uptown I learnt about online. Few things these days compel me to endure Klang valley traffic. But the days at work have been long of late and what better comfort food than a nice Italian roti cheese?

When it first opened, Pizza Craft had some brave offerings: dessert pizzas with ice cream, and toppings that included potatoes and kimchi - apparently in tune with the out-of-the-box ethos of master pizza chef Theo Kalogeracos, from Western Australia.

I guess the aspirational stage of the business had ebbed somewhat, judging from its now more conservative menu. Holdovers from those days include a salmon pizza and something with beef and blueberry jam. Nevertheless, I was piqued. But how to try more than one flavour?

The Grandma's Pizza, just like how your imaginary Italian granny makes it

The pakcik who was the manager on duty when I dropped by said I could take advantage of the "two-box" offer to order two small pizzas. Vito Corleone couldn't have done a better deal.

When my pizzas were ready, though, the staff started packing them into boxes. In my haste and hunger, I'd forgotten to tell them I was dining in. Pizza Craft has its own delivery service for the Uptown area, but they tied up with Foodpanda and HonestBee for longer distances.

I can't remember which pizza hit the table first. I haven't had a decent one in months and the sight of a thin-crust platter of dough, its layer of tomato sauce blanketed by gooey cheese and one's choice of toppings, emanating that fresh-out-of-the-oven melange of aromas...

For meat lovers and trolls under bridges, this Billy Goat will be a treat

The mere proximity of the warm slice near my lips nearly caused a spit tsunami. Swallowing, I dug in.

The hearty Billy Goat, with its chunks of still-moist slow-roasted Australian lamb, rubbed in rosemary and in-house seasoning, is a must for lamb aficionados. It even came with a wedge of lime and small cup of mint sauce.

The thing called Grandma's Pizza is less complicated, yet satisfyingly delicious. Roasted garlic, basil (they could add more of that, though - should I bring my own?), red sauce and cheese. As a rule of thumb, I always pick a basic pie at a new pizza joint. You'd have to be a crappy pizza chef to screw up something so simple.

What's better when you're hungry than a wedge of Italian roti cheese?

Surrounded by the scent of baking pizzas, I felt there's still hope for the world - and the local food scene. Then all that crashed when I saw that only one slice remained. All good things must come to an end.

Unless they start again, that is.

Just several days later, I returned to Pizza Craft with Sam and Wendy, where we tried more flavours. Little Rita was an even more basic version of Grandma's and just as good; the Smokey BBQ Chicken, was so nice I ignored that it also had pineapple; and the Meatball Capital (crumbled Italian meatball, cherry tomatoes and red onions with BBQ sauce), because I messed up the order. Wendy was interested in the Billy Goat after reading my glowing description of it on Instagram.

Clockwise from top: Little Rita, Smoky BBQ Chicken, and Meatball Capital

I also liked the Peri Chicken: grilled chicken, roasted red peppers with peri hot sauce, oregano and parsley - a tad spicy, but quite good. Pizza Craft claims that they churn the dough fresh each day, and it shows in the taste and mouthfeel. I wasn't too interested in their pastas - why have pasta at a pizza joint?

All things considered, I'm grateful I found a reason to brave the evening rush-hour traffic again.

---

Pizza Craft

28, Jalan SS21/39
Damansara Uptown
Petaling Jaya

CLOSED FOR GOOD

A Taste Of Tranquillity (And A Little More) At Tujoh

My drive for culinary escapades have diminished these days, no thanks to a persistently sore throat and a shrinking appetite. But I was soon well enough to resume the hunt for new tasty stuff.

Tujoh at Section 17, Petaling Jaya is shaping up to be a favourite
after-work haunt

Picking up a lead from a Facebook friend, I snuck into an enclave in Section 17, Petaling Jaya. This was not a new place; some of my colleagues occasionally come here for lunch at one of the Chinese restaurants, and I tagged along several times.

From the dates of certain posts on its Facebook page at the time of my first visit there, I concluded that Tujoh was less than a month old. Its white façade was mostly unadorned, save for the black fixtures and the signs that bear its name.

I studied the menu, intent on picking my order before stepping in. The phantom of my red pen hovering above my ear alerted me to kinks on the single-page bill of fare, which made interesting reading.

The sauce for the carbonara fettucine could use a little more flavour

I placed my order at the counter and paid. My attention was drawn to the water dispenser. Slices of lemon floated atop sprigs of mint.

"It's cold water," the cashier told me. "Would you like it warmer?"

"It's fine," I replied. Lemon in water is common, but not the mint. The combination would be good for what I was about to dine on. As it was evening, I avoided the coffee, which I heard was not bad.

Wild mushroom ragout, as good and "infamous" as the herbs in it

At my window seat, I drifted off into that semi-fugue state that follows a long day at the office. Pictures of German industrial designer Dieter Rams, jazz great Miles Davis, and American photojournalist Dorothea Lange adorned one section of the wall.

The courtyard at the back was converted into a skylit nook. French songs poured out of a pair of speakers mounted at ceiling height - a calm little slice of continental Europe in a Chinese corner of PJ (the other slice, 2 Scones 1 Cup, is nearby).

I was in no mood for seafood, so I ordered the carbonara fettucine. A mistake, in hindsight, to have two things with cream in them. They flubbed the poached egg in the carbonara, and the sauce was insufficiently seasoned. But oh, g*d, the wild mushroom ragout made up for it in spades.

Wafu hambagu, the avian version of the Japanese take
on the Salisbury steak

Don't call it a thicker version of mushroom soup, no matter how much it looks and tastes like it. This mix of at least two kinds of mushroom with the odd slice of carrot and celery and "infamous herbs" in a thick, smooth creamy base of essence of mushroom is ambrosial. With two- no, four more slices of buttered toast and a salad, you'll have a meal.

On subsequent visits, I tried a few more things. Tujoh's version of wafu hambagu, a Japanese bunless hamburger, is a patty of minced chicken with a sunny side-up egg inside and drizzled with a thin shoyu-based sauce. They seem to specialise in Asian fusion stuff.

The hōjicha latte was a taste I've yet to acquire. Roasted in a porcelain pot over a charcoal fire, this variant of Japanese tea has a "toasty, slightly caramel-like flavour" and is said to be lower in caffeine and therefore good for anyone who wants a good night's sleep.

Thank goodness for all-day breakfasts. The eggs Benedict at Tujoh
aren't half bad.

"We tried it and we liked it, so we hope the customers will like it too," said Terence, the co-owner of Tujoh, who was there on the afternoon of my third time there. The name, he explained, was derived from the venue's address: 6+1=7. He and his partner in the business spelled it the way it would've been in the 1970s.

As I had guessed, the place was several weeks old and still not ready. The upstairs floor, which would be made a space for hosting events, is being sorted out. And Rams, Davis and Lange would be joined later by film director Stanley Kubrick and singer Janis Joplin.

The counter inside Tujoh (left); the hōjicha latte takes some getting used to

On the food side, I had to settle for eggs Benedict on toast instead of the ricotta pancakes (which they ran out of) and caramelised bananas when I was there one afternoon with my laptop. Terence said that the bananas were better paired with the pancakes, which was perhaps why the kitchen compensated with an extra bunch of red coral lettuce.

I loaded myself with more lemon-and-mint water (to which they added slices of cucumber this time around) and reluctantly packed up my laptop. After the excitement over the past few weeks, leaving this oasis of calm was hard.

---

Tujoh

617 Jalan 17/10, Section 17
46400 Petaling Jaya

Mon-Thu: 11am-11pm
Fri-Sat: 11am-12:30am
Sun: 9am-9pm

+603-7932 3611

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Chaplang Kafe, A Neighbourhood Hangout Reimagined

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 24 August 2016


About two years ago, makan kaki Melody brought me news of Butter + Beans' opening in OUG. This year, she told me B+B was closing down for a revamp.

Perhaps it was inevitable. Some similar cafés had appeared in the neighbourhood in its wake and I guess patrons hankering for that ambience were now spoiled for choice.

Outside Chaplang Kafé + g-Lat, formerly Butter + Beans @ OUG.

I had initial reservations about the "new" Chaplang Kafé + g-Lat.

"Chaplang" is a Malaysian term that means "odds and ends", while "g-Lat" is another way to pronounce the Malay word for "lick."

Two weeks ago, I finally dropped by and tried their aglio olio pasta with rendang chicken. The flavour's more subtle than I expected, but the dish worked.

Back there, days later, I bumped into the co-founders of Chaplang. Yong was with his family that evening, so I chatted with Ken.

"Tell me about this place," I asked him, while waiting for my breakfast pizza.

"What happened with Butter + Beans?"

The Chicken Rendang Aglio Olio Spaghetti might just be the go-to pick
for the terminally undecided.

According to Ken, he and Yong had some kind of agreement with the management of Butter + Beans in Petaling Jaya to open the OUG outlet. It's not a franchise thing, he insisted. But B+B didn't work out, so the space was transformed into Chaplang + g-Lat.

The latter is a joint venture with ice cream brand Forty Licks. The all-Malaysian flavours, which include Neslo, red bean, bandung, durian (yes!), kaya toast, teh tarik and coconut/gula melaka, are unique to the g-Lat range being pushed in Chaplang.

And yet, "I still have people asking for vanilla and chocolate," Ken said exasperatedly.

Many, he said, come for the ice cream and waffles, which is fast becoming a draw.

The waffles were nice, and even better with ice cream. But even for hungry old me, polishing off a waffle with just two scoops of ice cream was a feat.

The Breakfast Pizza is best eaten fresh out of the oven.

The main event, however, is the Bulatan Kampung Pandan Waffle: a pandan waffle (what else?) with four - FOUR! - scoops of ice cream and lashings of their version of pandan kaya. Just thinking about it made me queasy. Ken, however, claimed that a food blogger polished off a whole Bulatan Kampung all by himself when he was here.

Can I have the pandan waffle with just two scoops of ice cream? I asked Ken.

Senior citizens like me should watch what and how much we eat. Alas, that option was unavailable, but he thought it might be good to have, for an extra ringgit or two. Make it happen, Ken - please?

Then, I spied a customer asking about the missing pastries. She probably knew this place back from the days when this was B+B. My breakfast pizza had gone cold, having arrived long ago. But it was nice to have a long chat with a human outside of work.

The monster dessert that is the Bulatan Kampung Pandan Waffle
(not mine). Share with a friend or three.

It was a good pizza, but the mushrooms' strong flavours were more assertive, perhaps due to the temperature. I noted that the crust was still nice and crispy, even though the pie had gone cold.

"I like it myself," said Ken, regarding the pizza crust. "I got the recipe from someone in Australia."

I recalled that he'd sampled sauces for his other food venture; when the owner cares enough to test the goods himself, the place should be in good hands.

The duo, along with a third partner I have not met, aspire to turn Chaplang into a neighbourhood hangout and go-to venue for indecisive diners.

"That's hard to do," he admitted. People are spending and eating out less these days.

I don't usually choose to wind down my days with soupy things, but the
Tom Yam Penne (no longer sold, alas) was an exception.

But the ice cream and waffles are a good idea, I feel. Who can resist a sweet treat?

"I consciously avoid having the same stuff the nearby cafés offer," he said.

A week later, I was back again, slurping their Tom Yam Penne.

Chock-full of seafood (watch out for galangal slices, kaffir lime leaves and the lemongrass stalk), the dish is good for cold lonely nights, but the battered and fried fish fillets don't make much sense in a soupy dish.

Draining the bowl, I began missing Butter + Beans less and warmed up to the idea of this being a neighbourhood hangout.

The food, décor, the whites and greens of the interior, the cartoons and borrowed quotes I dubbed "Chaplang-isms" on the walls made this café more open and welcoming than its previous incarnation.

---

Chaplang Café + g-Lat

53, Jalan Hujan Rahmat 3
Taman Overseas Union
58200 Kuala Lumpur

CLOSED FOR GOOD

Balik Kampung To Oz Via This Yellow Brick Road

Uncharacteristically, I arrived first at Plaza Batai and turned the car into the sun-drenched parking lot. "Arrived," I WhatsApped my dining companions. "And it's crowded!"

Seems this Yellow Brick Road is a well-beaten path these days.

Yellow Brick Road and Wicked Pancake Parlour, on a more relaxed weekday

Opened by the brains behind The Red Beanbag at Publika, this site houses two places. Yellow Brick Road is where the brunches are, while the Wicked Pancake Parlour is upstairs - though that distinction disappears when a line forms outside the door and seats become scarce, as it did that Saturday around noon.

A few WhatsApp messages later, I put my name on the waiting list. The fifteen-minute wait was less torturous because of a light dim sum breakfast, but the girls, Sam and Wendy, were near famished.

Even though we finally had seats - upstairs - we waited a whole hour for our food to arrive. In the meantime, it was catch up, shoot the breeze and sample my latest batch of home-made shortbread. Sam had been to London and she'd brought back a packet of the same from Sainsbury's (SCOFF).

The flavours of the Malaysian heartland in the Balik Kampung dish
will make you do just that (photo by Sam Fong)

Having been here many times on her lunch breaks, Sam thought we'd all should have a go at this place, inspired by The Wizard of Oz and a symbol of the founders' journey in food, business and life. We had a tough time deciding what to order, to avoid having two of the same thing.

Plans for dessert were scrapped. We thought we could order that later, if we could still eat. Then the wait stretched for over half an hour. Who knows how much longer we'd have to wait after our food arrived, and by the time the sweets came we'd have digested our lunch.

Pulled Beef Benedict, with the kailan-like centrepiece (photo by Sam Fong)

Wendy decided to forgo the flat white, but not just because of the wait times. Though the overseer was a Malaysian Barista Champion, Sam didn't endorse the coffee. We took her advice; she was the snobbiest when it came to her cuppa. "If you want we can go to Sitka (next door) later."

I looked around. Don't think anybody heard that.

Whimsy seems to be the theme in the menu, from the names of the items. Wendy's Balik Kampung is a big plate of turmeric rice with mango kerabu, a poached egg and ayam percik covered in delicious percik gravy. The egg was overcooked, as the yolk had almost hardened, but she liked it.

Close-up of the Eggs Norwegian v2.0 (photo by Sam Fong)

Apart from the onion rings and cornflake-encrusted toast cradling the Hollandaise-covered poached eggs and slices of smoked salmon, nothing else set the Eggs Norwegian v2.0 from others of its ilk. I just wanted fish and eggs and everything else seemed run-of-the-mill to me that afternoon.

The flavour of Sam's Pulled Beef Benedict (which I didn't try), she said, was not as assertive as she'd expected. The broccolini stalk looked too much like kailan to her, which enhanced the Asian look of the dish. It looked yummy, at least: pulled beef with poached eggs on an English muffin.

Days later, The Impasta Returns! The marinated soya bean bits
take some getting used to.

But the Ginger Flower Beer with a bit of torch ginger was another story. One sip connected me to my Penang Nyonya roots.

Then, Wendy and Sam swapped dishes. Sam couldn't finish the rice, and she'd peeled the skin from the chicken. I had some, which is how I know it's delicious. The full plate might be too much for one to handle, however.

I guess the long wait time for the food and the crowded dining hall dimmed my enthusiasm for this place even more. And I'm too old and jaded to be piqued by cutely named menu items.

The Minimalist dish of pancakes with butter and maple syrup is wickedly
good - the way pancakes should be

Sure, I Wanna Be Kaya too by selling things like Drew Berry More and Sweet Mash of Mine, names of which are Oately Amusing. Since many cafés opt for a similar Minimalist look, it's one way to stand out. But why no sign of the "Wicked 'Wich of the West" or "Corn in the USA (Uniformly Seasoned Amberjack)"?

However, I am pleased to learn they use coffee beans from Artisan and are selling chocolate from the Artisan offshoot, Seniman Kakao - another day, perhaps. And, as expected, things were much better on weekday evenings, like when I returned for the pancakes days later.

The chicken char siew of The Impasta Returns! (with exclamation mark) was moist and tender, not overly seasoned. But the marinated soya beans (macam taucu je) and what looked like tofu cubes were a little heavy on flavour.

And for something "minimalist" the plain pancakes with butter and grade A (medium amber, I think) maple syrup were wickedly good. For me, any place that serves the basic stuff near-flawlessly won't screw up their more elaborate offerings.

I guess, like the overused, oft-crowded thoroughfares of this city, this Yellow Brick Road isn't such a bad place during off-peak hours.

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Yellow Brick Road & Wicked Pancake Parlour

8-7, Jalan Batai
50490 Kuala Lumpur

Pork-free

Daily, 9am-10pm
Kitchen closes from 4pm-6pm

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Idli-ng Away At An Indian Kitchen In Bangsar

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 01 August 2016


I was one of many who skipped the balik kampung exodus during Raya — wisely, as it turned out.

But where to go?

A couple of friends of a friend, Sam and Wendy, volunteered the Idli Only Café in Bangsar. Having recently binged on a series of YouTube cooking videos by a Hyderabadi chef, I was intrigued. And can a café only sell idli to get by?

Not really.

At the Idli Only Café and Indian Kitchen, you'll find much more
than steamed rice cakes.

Turns out the Idli Only Café shares the same space as a restaurant called the Indian Kitchen. Once inside, however, there's no distinction, other than the two sets of menus patrons get when they take a seat.

The idli is a little steamed cake made of fermented black gram and rice; the fermentation, according to online sources, breaks down the starches and makes them easier for the body to process. Idlis look a little like putu piring, sans filling.

Idlis are traditionally eaten in South Indian households for breakfast, though that's not a firm rule. They lack a distinct taste, so they must be eaten with chutneys, sambars, stews or the like.

Sam, who's become a fitness freak after spending a year transforming herself, is naturally wary of carb-heavy meals. She also proclaimed that she's not a fan of idlis.

The marvellous butter podi idlis: good on
their own, even better with chutneys.

Nevertheless, she came along because she'd spied this place while out to lunch at another place and decided to try it.

We had a tough time selecting dishes from the menus. I recognised many of the terms but not what all of them meant (should've paid more attention to the videos). Still, what a joy to behold. Everything you'd want for an introduction to Indian cuisine was available.

For me, the only major blip in the otherwise heavy and luscious lunch was the mutton rogan josh. The sauce for this Kashmiri specialty had a slightly bitter note that discouraged me from taking too much of it.

A pity — the meat was succulent and tender. Wendy had ordered it at the advice of the waiter because she wanted something with sauce. Well, kabhi khushi kabhie gham...

But we loved the butter chicken and the mutter paneer: Indian cottage cheese and peas in a tomato-based gravy. The butter chicken's buttery, silky and mildly spicy gravy was such a hit, I wished there was more of it to eat with the breads.

Garlic naan, tandoori paratha and butter chicken.

Not bad for a dish that was said to have been invented to make use of some leftover chicken tandoori. The tandoori paratha the ladies had ordered had more charring than I'd expected, but nothing an extra dab of gravy couldn't fix.

Wendy had also ordered a three-piece idli set with a spicy red chutney, a sambar and some coconut chutney, so we could each sample one. That was what we came here for, after all. After the first bite, though, we wanted more because the butter podi idlis were butter-fried spice-encrusted marvels that were good enough on their own.

A podi is a spice mix that's also eaten with idlis; one famous type is milaga podi, which is referred to as "gun powder." But, in this case, the idlis were coated with a podi (didn't ask for the name) and fried in butter. Sam loved them, and Wendy even more so.
"I'll come back for this," said Wendy.

So would I.

Then, Sam passed around her glass of lime and mint and everybody wanted seconds of that, too. Sweet, tangy and refreshing, it was just what we needed after a rich and heavy meal. No longer used to feasts of carbs, Sam was the first to slip into a post-meal torpor.

The rest of us joined her not long afterwards.

My gaze wandered from the dining room to the medley of Bollywood song-and-dance numbers on the screen, some of which featured Datuk Shah Rukh Khan. My senses and mind were already worn out by the culinary equivalent of an SRK/Kajol number, which is why this account has to stop here.

Just drop by, and let the food speak for itself.

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Idli Only Café & Indian Kitchen

64, Jalan Maarof, Bangsar Baru
59100 Kuala Lumpur

Daily, 8am-8pm

+603-2284-0522

Bread, Butter And Brownies At Bandar Kinrara

first published in The Malay Mail Online, 06 June 2016


I was slurping beef noodles at a neighbourhood shop when the phone buzzed.

"Hey, I'm arriving at the train station at 1:30pm," said makan kaki Melody via WhatsApp. "Can pick me up? We can go to PL's café," she added, referring to a friend and mutual acquaintance she'd met during a freelance gig some years ago.

I had to wait a bit at the train station, no thanks to a delayed ETS train. The café had better be good.

The Coffee Sessions at Bandar Kinrara opened last April

Since she'd heard about this place, Melody had been chomping on the bit to go there. She knows the people who opened The Coffee Sessions at Bandar Kinrara and according to her, PL bakes some great brownies. Runs in the family, I was told. Plus, the menu looked interesting.

We did get lost briefly en route, but managed to find our way there.

The sign says "Established 2015" but Melody was told the establishment was just a month old at the time of our visit. Planning began last year but it was only in April this year that the café got off the ground.

In the daytime, the interior is bright, comfortable and inviting. Spanking new, not yet worn down by droves of people. By the time we left, however, occupancy was about 80 per cent. This place seems to be a hit with families.

Curry Leaf Pesto Pasta with slices of roast chicken

Despite recovering from a bout of food poisoning, Melody insisted on trying the Pasta Carbonara with chunks of smoked duck. I was curious about the Curry Leaf Pesto Pasta and—is that bread and butter pudding?

Now it was Melody's turn to be apprehensive. "Can finish or not?"

"No problem," I assured her.

Then, she spied something over my shoulder and went to take a look. I found her a minute later, discussing something with someone I was later introduced to as PL's sister. The makan kaki was excited because they had brownies, and from past experience she was confident of their quality.

Creamy Pasta Carbonara with chunks of smoked duck

The flavour of the Curry Leaf Pesto Pasta wasn't strong at all even though the fragrance of curry leaves was palpable. However, I had let the dish and the slices of roast chicken dry out while taste-testing and photographing the other items.

About halfway through, Melody and I swapped pastas; she found the curry leaf one more appealing and cleaner-tasting. I couldn't agree more. While the carbonara was tasty (oh g*d, the smoked duck!), the pasta had too much sauce which was also a bit sour.

I also felt that rich, gamey meat like duck is more at home in pastas that aren't as rich, such as aglio olio or a drier carbonara that doesn't use cream. Did I mention that the smoked duck was served in chunks, some of which still had a layer of fat and skin?

The "Chocolate" Brownie — I think saying "chocolate" is redundant

I'd temporarily abandoned my pasta because of the baked goods. As Melody expected, the brownie shone. Delightfully chocolatey, with walnut inside and out and a drizzle of caramel on top. So powerful, it temporarily overpowered my strong, fragrant "small white" (they don't have flat whites).

Just when I thought this couldn't be beat, my bread and butter pudding arrived.

To filled stomachs, the square of baked chopped-up croissant looked big — at least, compared to other B&B puddings I've had before. Half of it was drenched in a smooth, luscious vanilla custard, while the other half was dusted with icing sugar. More of the custard pooled around the soaked half which was dotted with several raisins.

So. Good.

Bread and butter pudding — highly recommended

Melody and I were graced by the presence of PL herself who had come over with a few friends. From PL's sister and one of the staff, I had learnt that they added "a bit of" lemon juice to the carbonara, which I felt made even less sense. How would the astringent juice cut the richness of the duck in a bath of egg yolks and cream, if that was the intention?

And at RM6 per slice of brownie and RM7 for the bread and butter pudding, the items were a steal—and because they were having a promotion that day, I got the latter at a discount. "Looks like they're baking for love," Melody said, still shocked at the prices.

Still, they are new, and they'll have plenty of opportunities to evolve the menu.

"So, good leh?" Melody said smugly, reminding me of my initial scepticism and how grumpy I was while waiting and stewing at the train station.

"You sound like you're trying to make a point," I noted.

"From your reaction to the food, I think my point has already been made."

I let her have the last word.

---

The Coffee Sessions

2-G, Jalan BK 5A/2C
Bandar Kinrara
47180 Puchong

CLOSED FOR GOOD

ToKB Café: In A War Against Limited Food Choices

I'm sitting here, surrounded by assorted war paraphernalia, distracted by the weight of the cold metal sheet under the pages of the menu. Several of these are taped together - a recent modification, I suspect.

Two large model planes hang from the ceiling - upside down, I note - from cables attached to their wheels. Antique military motorcycles sit on ledges or catwalks, while more seats are hidden behind sturdy metal fencing, from which a couple of helmets or framed photos hang.

Ten-hut, soldier! Welcome to the ToKB Cafe. They're setting up early (about
a month old, I think), so they haven't quite found a way to properly set up
the decor. Can't imagine what the pilot's going through.

I see tiny plastic army men perched atop the metal frames around me or on huge steel drums. All around, looms a sense that the interior designer is trying to convince patrons they're in an army mess hall or a bunker.

One doesn't come across a war-themed café often, less so within walking distance from one's workplace (I can walk it if it's about ten minutes away). But one visitor didn't seem impressed, and this fellow, from what I understand, is hard to not-impress.

That carved Harley-Davidson probably costs more than the real thing.

I'd been to ToKB Café before, after reading what Mr Hard to Not-impress said about it. Short for "Tastes of Kota Bharu", the café serves up fare from the capital of the Malaysian state of Kelantan. Some are familiar, like nasi kerabu and nasi dagang, while some, like laksam, aren't.

But what's a concept café without its own signature items?

Take nasi roket, layers of rice and fish curry wrapped up in an elongated cone that tempts one to wear it like a unicorn's horn. The Teh Atom, a pulled-tea beverage sweetened with honey whose mound of froth reminds one of a mushroom cloud. Roti C4, a kaya-and-egg toast combo, explodes with bursts of treacly coconut jam and smooth runny soft-boiled egg as one bites down.

The Teh Atom (left) packs a sweet, smoky wallop. At right, plastic army men
drama. Sergeant: "Get moving, soldier!" Soldier: "Can't PUFF Sarge WHEEZE
It's KOFF too GASP far..." Sergeant: "Prepare for a butt-whacking!"

At least, that's what the images promise. The café even has a Colonel Sanders or sorts, a Kelantanese makcik who has been cooking for three decades.

On my last visit, I'd taken a nasi kerabu to go. Takeaway versions of several signature dishes are compact promises of what the full meals have, nicely wrapped up in patterned paper and sealed with a branded sticker.

ToKB Nasi Kerabu - for me, the Malaysian east coast on a plate or, in
this case, a woven tray. The dryness of the rice and chicken left me
unsatisfied and a little thirsty.

I'm back here now, ready to dine in. Instead of the takeaway nasi kerabu I had a couple of days ago, the full spread is laid out on a woven mengkuang tray lined with banana leaf: desiccated coconut, herbs and vegetables such as torch ginger flower, cabbage and sliced long beans, with saucers of sambal and possibly budu and a fried marinated chicken leg.

But it was a long wait. Do they, like, have two people in the kitchen? And more people are arriving. My atomic tea goes down sweet and smoky - the honey's a nice touch - but I worry about my blood sugar levels at that point. Which part of the body does sugar nuke again?

Sorry, have to leave some traces. I can't digest metal or bone,
and the tray's way too much fibre to handle.

From my nasi kerabu, the quality control seems consistent. The dish is dry and the herbs do little to help. The chicken is scored so that the heat went deep down and, yes, transformed it into jerky. A minor complaint, which can probably be fixed with a saucer of curry gravy, or more sambal and budu.

As I strip the bones as clean as possible, the buzzer rings. An LED screen, part of a table-based waiter-calling system, kept flashing one number. Eerie. And a sign they haven't quite gotten their act together yet.

Takeaway versions of several ToKB dishes for those who can't wait.
Of course, minus the big, big pieces of chicken.

Bill in my pocket, I look around the front. The takeaways table now has boxes of kuih. Okay, seri muka or pulut kaya?

While I pondered my choices, I look around some more. The ToKB crew took great pains to carve out a military concept café, sparing no expense it seems. They did splash on a billboard, and buntings were hung around the neighbourhood. Not to mention the web site, on-screen video presentations in the premises and, my goodness, the car.

Yes, even a car

I suspect the café's backers might be related to whoever developed the building it's in. The marketing that went into it is beyond what many similar cafés can put up. But it also reeks of kitsch, sadly, the way the props were put up. C'mon, army men? Model planes and ships? And is that a carved wooden motorcycle up there?

I also have problems with a mural at the non-smokers' dining area. British and Japanese soldiers are depicted laughing and partying with the café's signature items, with who I think is a smiling Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita on the right.

Dunno how real war veterans gonna feel about this

I don't know what the soldiers who fought in the war would think of that tableau. Nor could I comprehend how they would feel, eating Malaysian east coast fare here. Kota Bharu is also where the Japanese army began its invasion of Malaya in 1941.

"You guys open from noon to 9pm?" I ask the cashier, who replied in the affirmative.

"You have breakfast fare and you're only open from noon to 9pm?" I ask again.

"We plan to extend our hours," he said.

"But you already have breakfast items," I press him. The dissatisfaction from the dry kerabu is showing.

"We don't have enough staff at the moment."

Ah. I see.

I eventually pick the seri muka, one of a few varieties of kuih that appear outsourced from another manufacturer. Maybe I'll come back for the pulut kaya and bingka ubi sometime.

I'm hoping there will be improvements, and more stuff from this place. Though some modern joints have sprung up and food trucks have dropped by occasionally, PJ's Section 13 is a barren wasteland when it comes to dining options and any attempt to liven things up is always welcome.

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ToKB Café

Avenue D'Vogue
No.3A, Jalan 13/2,
46200 Petaling Jaya

Pork-free

Now the site of Black Castle Bistro