An Unfinished Ritual, Mai Ramen at Jaya One

To me, rituals often present themselves as a bunch of obligatory chores which have been put to reinforce some expired logic from the past.

Recently, however, I joined a choir singing a different tune. Having concluded that we were constipated by a whole host of soul-sapping habits, a few friends and I decided to create a new ritual of purging. The idea was we would make handwritten personal lists of the nasty forces we'd foolishly allowed to infiltrate our little lives, recite them to one another as some sort of a poetic and serious pledge and then conclude by burning lists in a bonfire (or well, in the interest of containing the threat of open burning, a scaled down version in a Milo tin).

So this one afternoon, huddled over bottles of prosecco, we scrutinised and dissected our lists in great detail. Before long, our wills to rid ourselves of these ill compulsions and elements were fortified by ridiculously optimistic cheer and approval. The bubbles helped too, of course.

Alas, before the fiery finale, we decided to make a quick dinner pit stop, which led to unfortunate truncated proceedings.

Mai Ramen, brand new at Jaya One replacing Simply Fusion, called out to us as we stumbled a little, trying to find our footing at dusk after all that unfeigned motivation. I had been hankering for a robust bowl of ramen for weeks now and with all that alcohol swirling around in us, we were hardly in the state of mind to trouble ourselves with options. Makes sense that a recurring item on our lists of things to eradicate is the abuse of alcohol to solve all of life's most trivial problems.

I immediately called loudly the Buta Kakuni (Braised pork belly) Ramen. Ever since my sister Mag inducted me to the lavish flavour of this dish which takes days to prepare, I have not been able to look at another pork dish the same again.

All ramen dishes share the same tonkotsu broth, thick, milky white, not as common as the clear shoyu ones available in other local ramen joints. I had expected the soup to be heady and overly salty, similar to the leanings of Tokyo ramen bars but was pleasantly surprised to find it a milder version.

The Jikasei Chasyu (Homemade barbequed pork) Ramen got the same enthusiastic reception. Check out that accompanying half of a bona fide Shoyu Tamago done right - moist, slightly underdone, creamy yolk, yes!

The Tamanegi no Takana Ramen with spicy vegetables - not entirely vegetarian given the broth but my selective vegetarian friend enjoyed it to the last slurp.

The ramen used here isn't the standard, slightly curly yellow noodles but a thinner, straighter version in pale off-white. I still prefer the thicker bite of the former but this still makes a pretty luscious bowl of noodles.

Mai Ramen's main courses come with the set option which includes 3 pieces of Gyoza, a side salad and tea. We enjoyed the Gyoza thoroughly - medium thickness of the skin, right dollop of meat & chive stuffing dipped in vinegar dressing.

The let-down of the meal would be the Soft Shell Crab Okonomiyaki, which was a soft, doughy, nondescript mess. I've long established that I am no fan of okonomiyaki so an inferior execution would do it even less justice, even when it comes topped with a whole soft shell crab.

Perhaps the highly gratifying meal interjected my ritual logic for when it came for time for us to resume the final step, I declined. I reasoned that I needed to keep my handwritten list to remind myself what I was letting go, although in hindsight, I was simply too drunk and too tired to bother with the Milo tin inferno.

But no matter, the unfinished ritual was truly liberating and the source of interruption, deliciously comforting. Meal was very reasonably priced too, about RM90.

Mai Ramen
Block C, Ground Floor
Jaya One

Romancing Taiping

To most, Taiping is this quaint little sleepy town in middle Malaysia with lovely green lungs but to me, it is a romantic birthmark of sorts.

Source
My parents met, courted and fell in love here under trying circumstances and if their current seasoned-couple disposition is anything to go by, Taiping mined enduring love and passion, apart from tin in its heydays.

We chanced upon Taiping Ho Chiak when in the vicinity for the SS2 branch of Super Kitchen Pan Mee last year.

I had surrendered to the fact that you can't force an appetite when dogged by a nasty sick bug clogging up the respiratory system, until this ill-timed meal to which a kind and generous cavalier had whisked me away from a pounding work-addled weekend. We arrived around 2PM so the place was fairly empty. All the better. Wouldn't have been able to stomach crowds or queues, which were evident when we checked it out last year.

Got down to the business of ordering. First things first, Sambal Petai Prawn. The serving was larger than life and upon arrival, we looked at each other "uh-oh we're in trouble!" The stinking beans were abundant, laced in pungent sambal perfume that couldn't escape even nasal blockage. Forget durians, I could sleep in this stuff!

The Kerabu Paku was graciously green and crunchy - the love-or-hate cincalok flavour was mild, and I would've suspected the nasty bug at work again had he vetoed the presence of it altogether.

The Assam Fish arrived a staggering portion, increasing the panic in us of the collision ahead with unconsciousness. The gravy was caked with spices and flavour and even though the carb police in us called for back up, we couldn't resist ordering an extra serving of rice.

The Hainanese Pork Chop arrived last and thankfully, was not too daunting in size. The battered pork cutlet added metal to the meal but we cringed at the crippling use of MSG in the gravy. Not ordering this again.

The bill came up to a square RM100 for two. And a sullen, sluggish afternoon to boot. The menu also features more sensible single portions of noodles and such, a better option if you're not planning to sleep off the rest of your weekend.

If romance is on the cards, I'd say Taiping the town would serve to invoke the tenderness of simplicity but failing that, the gallantry of the food here might work too.

Taiping Ho Chiak
28, Jalan SS2/10
Petaling Jaya
(Chow Yang, same row as Super Kitchen and Nasi Kandar Kayu)

Take Five from Spice, Surabaya in Sunway Mentari

Found myself at the receiving end of a thorougly unexpected and isolated ambrosial weekend, thanks to a perplexing benefactor. To complement the activities which yielded some serious Q&As of this sticky organ we call the heart, it made sense to take time out to drive to Indon joint Surabaya in the unfamiliar territory of Sunway Mentari to challenge our threshold for spice.

The Lontong Cap Gomeh was a jerky start to Surabaya's liberal lashings of nerve-numbing chillies. The chicken stew, cushioned by dense rice cakes and sliced root vegetables were a winning and reassuring broth in milky, nutty broth.

I relied on my benefactor's authority to weed out what was good on the menu based on an illustrious outing here not long after it opened. He was generous with his praise for the Gado Gado and he wasn't far off. The combination of just-blanched vegetables enveloped in a disarming creamy peanut dressing, best paired with REALLY hot chilli sauce.

Also highly recommended was the Cumi Goreng. It arrived a rather modest serving of golden brown battered squid in sliced red chillies and garlic. The squid rings were scrumptious, although he felt that it was a step down from what sold Surabaya at his first visit.

He also ordered the Mi Goreng Surabaya, which was truthfully, a bit of a disaster. It looked like mamak mi goreng and tasted no better than a mediocre midnight version, compensated only with more chillies. Definitely not for delicate gastrointestinal systems - we left most of it to waste.

With the tastebud massacre, we were only too happy to neutralise with plenty of liquids. Surabaya's beverage menu is a Technicolour dream, featuring a drink in every shade of the rainbow. We had the Yellow Dennis, a pineapple, lychee and longan brew and the agreeable pink Red Stop, a thirst-quenching blend of watermelon, strawberries and tomatoes.

And so with our hunger placated and our tastebuds anaesthesised by the profusion of spice, we skipped out on the rain-washed roads and headed back to our elusive (one time only!) weekend pilgrimage of pleasure and promise.

Resto Surabaya
No. 18-1, Jalan PJS 8/2
Dataran Mentari Sunway
46150 KL

Bowl-me-over Breakfast in Bangkok

Bangkok's been a foolproof escape for the longest time - proximity's a dream, the city's a glorious mess, the food binges always magnificent, the alcohol cheap and flowing. It was timely that in the depth of KL ennui, a trip to the city that had previously fixed it all was planned and administered.

Except, this time, it didn't fix it all. The travel time took longer than anticipated, thanks to Air Asia's infamous delay, we found ourselves in the thick of Sukhumvit disorientated and disappointed, we didn't drink or eat anything mind-blowing and we engaged in an absolutely dreadful exercise of weeding out our respective skeletons in the closet.

But let us not discount Bangkok as a weekend getaway by dwelling on what didn't work.

One of the few things that did work this time around was this:

"Waitfor" breakfast noodles at Chatuchak: Devillishly dark herbal chicken noodle soup to signal the start of an acquistion spree.

Two chunks of well marinated, tender thigh chicken meat, swilling in an almost musical broth singing praises for the Saturday morning.

Check it. The location's somewhat challenging (the number on the top left corner of the signboard indicates 21, 273, 28/3) but it's on the main outer stretch, but if you look hard enough, it's there.

The Return of Rationale, Saifon Thai

Rationale, how I've missed you! I have been hiding in my nostalgic soft-focus cloak of despair while you, my friend, have escaped me in harsh, functional reality.

So having finally come to grips with the fact that I had been oblivious to some jarringly bad elements of a gig turned sour, preferring instead to assume foetal position of idealized despair, I now seek you out, face to face, beyond my comfort zone.

Welcome to Pandan Indah!

We had been disillusioned for a while with the Thai offerings in our neighbouring areas so Toto gamely suggested we did what any reasonable tomyam-deprived fellow would do - venture elsewhere. We hit up Pandan Indah, a fairly foreign expanse and thanks to his competent use of Garmin, we found ourselves in this bustling, but not particularly sexy neighbourhood.

We had read plenty about Baan Nok seated above the Thai mini-market and when we sought out the staff manning the noodle stall and BBQ pit outside the minimart, we were informed that Baan Nok had, in fact, moved next door to spanking new premises and renamed Saifon Thai.

Now we had made this journey for tomyam so imagine our collective anguish when we entered the air-conditioned and empty new space and then told there was NO tomyam served at lunch! Wait staff informed it was "too early, tomyam only from 3PM." Of course, there was the option of leaving and heading somewhere else with tomyam but we concurred with logic - it was 1PM, we were starving and also curious about the commotion going on outside.

The BBQ pit was a perfectly rational Plan B - an array of pre-marinated meats beckoned, including pork and that's always a start to wonderful things. We grabbed a pork cutlet and a minced pork skewer and the grill master brought us halfway back to Siam. Not the best I've had - felt the pork was too tough and could've sat in the marinade a while longer.

On the other hand, the BBQ chicken thigh delivered redemption. Transported us back to the side streets of Bangkok where the beer flowed free and the meat proudly basted in dignity.

The rice noodles in soup reminded us of happier times, stumbling drunk down Rambutri, all caution thrown to the wind and seeking the warmth and nourishment of a bowl or two before hitting the sheets. It tasted just as good, if not better, lucid and sober.

The Som Tam was decent too and I liked that they used Thai Eggplant (Makuea Praow) here. The level of spice and zest was a sensible balance. They could've sliced the vegetables a wee bit thinner though - I felt like a goat chomping on these fibrous chunks!

We left the chicken wings to the end when were stuffed and had to contend with our friend Rationale once again. Took them away, so Toto had the privilege of enjoying this while watching some football match or another.

We would have to come back for the tomyam and the rest of the interesting items on the menu. Despite the bizarre tomyam serving times, Saifon Thai turned out to be a perfectly sensible choice, a paragon in the heart of alien surroundings for a clear-headed reunion with rhyme and reason.

Saifon Thai
43A, Jalan Pandan Indah 4/6B
Pandan Indah
55100 Kuala Lumpur

Behold the Bathwater, at Dubrovnik, Solaris Mont Kiara

Come crunch time, we tend to forget the things that mattered or meant something just yesterday. Like neglecting your parents when you're deeply lodged in some silly emotional tribulation. Or how the routine session with friends gave you a new lease on life when you were relentlessly fixed on wallowing in despair.

An apt case in point: a late-night conversation with a friend recently discounted a relationship which had been intensely intimate to obliteration, simply because he couldn't deal with it in, granted, his galling circumstances. "(It) wasn't even a real relationship, I don't know what it was!" he stammered, when confronted with how he had abruptly upended it.

Similarly, it's easy for us to mark down the good-tasting dishes delivered in the wake of the bad at an eatery. Such is a reminder I would like to enlist for Dubrovnik, which delivered more than it failed this one despondent weekend.

Fish in the midst - I ordered a new entrant to the menu, Riba Romesco, baked seabass with breadcrumbs served with a mountain of potatoes. This was commendable - the fish fresh and cooked to a tender quiet, the accompaniment sufficiently light yet ample. Like nights in with a loved one requiring no charades.

Ciki had asked for Lamb Chops even before she arrived so this couldn't have failed. Pretty much like the promise of a smile that releases persecution of all that's perverse.

PA made a stand with Palacinke, crepes filled with -egg and dairy, a requiem to a dream. Ahh, this is stuff that sordid sex is made of. You cannot get enough of it, even when it gets too cloying and convoluted.

The Kozice, a dish featuring fresh water prawns with Mediterranean rice, was akin to the collapse of the Kingdom of Croatia. The prawns were overdone and the rice was a sad, flavourless mass. Not too different from the arguments and the disagreements that persist in any accord. Do we dare compromise?

We gave desserts a shot and the Apple Pita (Pie) reinstated our faith in the gentleness of flour, cinnamon, fruit and sugar. Same ingredients of a winning concoction to intimacy, really.

The Mille Foglie received lacklustre affection. The pastry sandwiching light vanilla custard failed to provoke the passion so palpable in its predecessor.

No matter how convenient, don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. No giving up on Dubrovnik yet, until it proves itself to be a certain undoing.

Dubrovnik Restaurant
KLJ-0G-14
Solaris Mont Kiara
No. 2 Jalan Solaris, Mont Kiara
50480 Kuala Lumpur

Thank You, Father, at Pudu of all places

"How about that Pudu Hakka Mee place?" was the response from my dear Father on Father's Day, when asked what he wanted for breakfast. Wrapped up in reckless, unwarranted grief over an unexpected disappointment, I had turned up at the start of the day of my parents' rare visit to KL sullen and unyielding, completely oblivious to the blessings for which I was so fortunate.

The established Hakka Mee institution of Chun Kee in Pudu set the pace for the major mind methamorphosis for Father's Day. Dapu is part of Meizhou City, located in Guangdong Province and where the standard Hakka dialect congregates. It also happens to be where Dad was born and raised through rough and tough means. Made perfect sense that the mention of Dapu resonated loud and proud with him.

Jalan Sayur where the stall was located was packed to the brim and we engaged in some friendly jostling and waiting to secure a table and the attention of the stall owners.

We finally landed a VIP table after a bout of waiting and Dad bowled me over with his giddy excitement of tasting the flavours of his childhood. His fever rubbed off on all of us, including my very beautiful, sceptical mother and some random boy they decided to adopt along the way.

We were in for a long wait so I sauntered over to neighbouring Yong Tau Foo stall, which looked like they knew what they were doing.

And they did. The bowl of stuffed goodies arrived a few minutes later to hearty reception. Flavour-packed and gratifying!

After about 25 minutes of waiting time, the first bowl of Da Pu Mian arrived to cheer and commotion. The dish was simple enough - egg noodles, topped with minced pork and char siew, wrapped lovingly in juices of staple Hakka - lard, lard and lard.

Father was disappointed. He suspected the noodles were finished with a machine and that just wasn't the Dapu way. I was disappointed that it didn't live up to his expectations, much the same what I didn't live up to but we live and learn.

And I learnt that whatever your roots and who you are, nothing, not the disappointments nor the failures life serve up, dictate how you move on. The lessons from my Father are precious, as is the realisation of how blessed I am.