Act 1: To Go or Not To Go
An Emoticon Cartoon
First Response: Wonderland??
}:- (
(subtext = why would you eat there?)
Our Reply: We love food and are looking to try something local!
*************
Their Rejoinder: Its not fancy
];-&
(subtext = But they don't have lemongrass scented wash towels... and you sit on plastic lawn chairs)
Ours: Yeah! Like a Hawker Center!
**************
Their Endorsement: Great food--good fish.
;-)
(subtext = indecipherable. is this a consolation prize? Like "He has a great personality?")
Act 2: Perchance to Eat? Ay, there's the rub
The only way to find out was to make the 20 minute drive into town and give it a try. As we arrived, we found that the place was packed to the gills with locals, with Australians, with another couple we recognized who had apparently also decided to eat off campus. A very good sign indeed.
The atmosphere was lively, with a cluster of tables under an awning festooned with little Malaysian flags. A humble counter made of white tiles separated the cooks in the kitchen from their diners. From our table, we could see in as three men manned the woks inside.
Our waiter approached, and with delight, walked us through the double sided menu. You made a selection of the fish/seafood/chicken, followed by the preparation method (steamed/grilled/fried), and sauce as applicable. Prawns? Tiger or River? Crabs? Soft Shell or Red Chili? Mussels or Oysters? Grouper or Snapper? Rice? Steamed or Fried?
Rather than make a decision, we readily followed our waiters advice. We felt all the more sure after the Guy in Charge double checked our order, and nodded with vigorous approval. Before we went further, he asked "Do you like spicy?"
To our ready nods, he returns with a bowl of chili paste. "Try this first." We taste. Red chilies, mild, sweet and slightly warm, mixed with garlic and ginger. Yes please!
Act 3: The Native Hue of Our Degustation
With two cold tiger beers, T and I watch in awe as our plates come out, one after another.
Red Snapper. One half fried. Sauce of green chilies, soy sauce, garlic and a squeeze of lime. Other half grilled. Piquant tamarind and shallot sauce.
Large Tiger Prawn. Cut in half and grilled. Bathed in that yummy chili paste offered earlier as our point of no return. A side of sweet and sour too.
Soft Shell Crabs. The smallest ones I've ever seen. Cut in quarters and fried up. Fried up like briny goodness and dipped into a sweet red chili
sauce.
Baby Cabbage. Looked like large Brussels sprouts from which each leaf had been torn. Tossed in a wok with oyster sauce and garlic. I hate cabbage, but I loved this.
Fried Rice.
Act 4: As if Our Increased Appetite Had Grown, by What it Fed On
All along the way, the Guy in Charge kept checking in on
us. Apparently he was the third generation of a Chinese family to own a seafood restaurant in Langkawi. For 55 years, they had cultivated a following of customers, had cooked similar dishes, had bought fish from the same family's fishermen. He hurried from table to table, to the kitchen, to call a cab, to chat.
"Don't bite the green one. When you bite the green one, call me if you need help," he said, pointing to the delicious sauce that accompanied our fried Snapper. "I know what to do."
With much bravado, we happily made our way through each plate, even through each sauce. This was certainly the best food we had yet to have on our trip. The best food I have had in a long while. And as he noticed our progress, the Guy in Charge returned.
"You must try the white chili." Now I know next to nothing about chilies, but when I saw him bring out a bowl of minced up white chilies, floating in a sauce of soy, I knew we were in for a ride. "Don't eat the pepper. Just the sauce." Apparently this instruction was so dire, that he literally took the spoon out of T's hand, dipped the tiniest tip of it in the sauce, and fed it to him. "This is what I call a slow dance," he said.
And he was right. This wasn't the type of chili that made sweat stand out on your brow, or made the back of your throat tight with its heat. Rather this one made your mouth, your nose, your throat warm. Your lips tingle. And it stayed that way for a long time.
We looked at each other and knew we needed to put in another order:
Sea Bass. Yep. Another plate of food just for good measure. Gotta feed the monkeys! This guy came whole. Steamed with plum sauce, thinly sliced ginger, carrots and scallions. Subtle.
Act 5: This Too Too Solid Flesh
We are stuffed. Stuffed like I haven't been in a while. Stuffed like Thanksgiving, when I normally resort to laying down on the floor beside the dining room table.
Given our jauntiness, or given our overindulgence, the Guy in Charge brings us a round of drinks to finish us off. In this country, when a proprietor offers to get you a round of drinks, just know not to expect those kind of drinks. Instead, he brought us what I call Homemade Gatorade.
Why, you ask? Because it's a bit thinker than water, just like Gatorade. It's sweet, but also surprisingly salty. And it tastes just like Tiger Lime. A simple syrup made with lime is added to water along with what I think was a pickled or preserved plum. Or maybe just a plum pit?
A Wonderland indeed.
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