We have about a day and a half in Kuala Lumpur, or "KL" as its referred to. And being about two-thirds of the way through the allotted time, I think it's more than sufficient. After a long delay at Langkawi, we arrived in KL in the early evening. We checked into our hotel and are both surprised and dismayed. We were excited and surprised to have such a terrific view of the Petronas Towers, even from our room. They are even more incredible in person and most incredible at night.
We were dismayed, however, that we had unwittingly checked into a hotel-cum-Australian-cruise-ship. It's not that I dislike Australians (T describes them as the Americans of the southern hemisphere. I'll leave you to interpret that comment on your own). It's that I kinda dislike cruise ships. Thanks to a 115 MR "upgrade" scheme (equivalent to about $30), everyone here gets an all-inclusive breakfast, tea and cocktail. As a result, last night at cocktail time, T and I entered the lounge to a packed house. Everyone was slurping down cocktails, making a meal of the hors d' oeuvres buffet. And you should have seen the "last call"! An army of waiters shuttling out of the bar area, with another drink or two for the thirsty, scurrying back behind the already half-closed buffet line, for another plate of samosa or two for the hungry. T and I left our drinks unfinished, and headed out for dinner.
Dinner. KL is like Singapore in that it is a mall culture. We were there on a Saturday night, and were recommended by the concierge to Madame Kwan's in the KLCC mall complex.
Imagine if you would, the T.G.I. Fridays of Malaysian cuisine. Very busy and full of patrons, mostly Malays from what I could tell. Malaysia is a Muslim country and dinner presented a good opportunity take note of the few nuances differentiating this halal version from the classic American concept.
- Big Tables. I think I read somewhere before that what is referred to as a "two-top" is the most profitable table in the restaurant business. Even being in a major city center, I was surprised to see how few two-tops there were in this establishment - maybe only 2 or 3 - in favor of much larger tables. Of course this better catered to the clientele, which was mostly families out to dinner, rather than dates or even double-dates. Most patrons had children.
- Lots of Drinks, but not that kind. The drinks section of the menu took up almost half a page. Coming from a society where people seldom "spend the calories" on non-diet drinks, especially non-alcoholic non-diet ones, it was interesting to see the sheer variety of fruit juices and teas being consumed across the tables. Juice selection alone at this place included: orange, apple, papaya, watermelon, starfruit, lemon, lime, carrot, pineapple, honeydew or mango.
- No Pork. Just about everything else though. I forgot that pork was not-permissible according to Islam, but was reminded in the first couple days in Langkawi after seeing "beef bacon" and "chicken ham" on the menu. No-faux pork products here. Nor where they missed really.
- Family Style. Most food is brought to the table in big enough portions to share. Just for good measure, T and I like to order for a family. Come to think of it, we eat for a family too.
So we ordered:
Otak-Otak: A spiced fish SPAM, steamed in banana leaves
Sambal Petai: "Twisted Cluster Beans cooked in a hot and spicy combination." The beans in this look like a fava bean, but taste very bitter. Almost like the bitter taste in beer. I am heartened to know, after looking up in Wikipedia, that another name for "Petai" or "Twisted Cluster Bean" is also "Stink Bean." I'll say!
Broccoli Mushroom: This tasted just like your regular Chinese food variety. Tame and familiar by comparison.
During the course of our dinner, we noticed the Kwan equivalent of the Mudslide, that dessert-like item flying out from behind the bar, which everyone seemed to be enjoying with relish. This was Cendol. And we were not going to miss out.
By far, this is the most foreign and unknowable thing we have eaten. Truly, to the depths, unknowable. Described on the menu as "Green jelly, red beans served with coconut milk and gula Melaka." To me, this translated to, kinda like a jello mold. Oh unsuspecting diner!
What arrives is a mounding sundae with a green mass at the bottom, a mountain of shaved ice, dribbled with coconut milk, and a pitcher of molasses looking, but delicious brown sugary tasting sauce.
But it gets strange - real strange - when I dig in with a spoon to find that the "Green Jelly" is actually jellies, little worms of green jellies. Al dente worms of green jelly, with no taste, made slimy by the melting, milky ice.
I don't get it. Neither does T. "You know how every food has a purpose?" I nod. T does not respond, because there is quite possibly no other way to get at what were were getting at here.
Now, I should have just downed the little pitcher, because that tasted good. Apparently "Gula" is palm sugar. Its brown and sweet, complex. By the end, T and I were just lapping up spoonfuls of that.
The mall still being open after dinner, T scored 2 Nike workout shirts for $15. "See Lol, I told you stuff'd be cheap."
Today we had the appointed breakfast with the masses, who were eager to get their last AUD- worth on their third trip to the buffet line which included everything from congee rice and sushi to my favorite, All Bran.
We went to the Central Market for trinkets and nicknacks. We get lunch in Chinatown at a place as authentic as I was nervous. T swoons over his favorite dish yet - curried octopus - which he describes as being tender and spicy. We walk through the market and enter a small alleyway, and we come across the scene with which I will close this post.
It seems that we are in the food portion of the market: vegetables like scallions, garlics, cilantro, cabbage; dried food stuffs like shrimp, noodles and squid; fish laid out across blocks of ice; and then food of the animalian kind. We pass chickens in various states of undress - fully plumed and clucking, plus the dispatched kind - denuded, laying heads down with their little eyelids closed as if to nap. We passed the pork butcher (this is Chinatown), with hunks of meat out along wooden tables and hung from hooks.
One chicken monger in particular had some curious wares. Aside from his chickens (live and dead), he had a basket full of entrails. And beside the glistening, veiny looking entrails, sat two cages. And inside those two cages were two cats. Were these two items the exception? The only two not on sale?
T here: two weeks into Asia and I have few regrets. The people are friendly, the food has at its best been as good as the restaurants we frequent in NYC, and at its worst, as frightening as a good Andrew Zimmer episode; the weather... well, mind over body. All in all, so far I can recline back in contented ease and say - this has been rather nice. But today I have my first regret.
ReplyDeleteIn a foreign land, I often find myself over-compensating on manners. We all have that fear of being the rude American Tourist... (think, Boy, Boy, can I get the bill, see vu play) which is a misnomer, it really should be a fear of acting like an Australian Tourist. For example, when L dragged me into the Indian Temple in Singapore, in the 100 degree heat (that felt like 110), I begrudgingly obeyed culture norms and removed my sweaty socks and shoes to trounce around on an unclean floor in bare feet. It took a lot of multi-culti training to get me there. I even overcame my fear of Malls, and now find myself rejoiceful in their multi-culturalness. Only a few minutes into last night's experience I said: "L, this isn't much different than a Saturday night at the Mall in America, watching all the teens out for a night on the town," as I point to the chap with the Yao Ming jersey on and his girlfriend covered from head to toe in black cloth. I'm getting the hang of this, I think. So today, walking thru the hot muck of the Chinese food stalls, I found myself in utter awe. Loving food and markets, I wanted to buy some goods to make a dinner. Lacking a kitchen, I could only stare and admire. And as the stalls progressed, and the veg became chops of pork, and the pork became hanging innards, we stumbled across a scene that, despite often joking about, I have never seriously considered to be real. What is that mystery meat, nauseatingly grisley, devoid of normal muscle fibers, that so often finds its way into the Kung Pao Beef and General Tso's Chicken plates that we have all come to love. That one bite: that makes you swear off Chinese food for a month.
Well today, mystery no more. On a butcher's table, two cages, two small bowls with heaps of innards, two cats. Real fatties too... a la Bibs. Think twice, next time.
If I only could have gotten beyond my fear of being a tourist, and pulled out the digital for a few quick snap-shots of my furry feline friends. You would have to see it to believe it.