Hello, Petronas Towers.
Hello, Chinatown.
But most importantly, HELLO BREAKFAST!!
I’ve arrived in KL and this morning went for a wander in Chinatown and got some pork mee in soup for breakfast at a cafe… I diligently wrote the name and the address of the cafe down on the back of a ticket stub so I could let my dear readers know where to find this. Then, later at a cafe when I was eating some kaya jam on toast, I decided to clean out my wallet and get rid of all my old ticket stubs. This was obviously a rather foolish error.
Anyway, the kedai kopi where I got these noodles was located on the corner of Jl Tun Tan Cheong Lock and Jl Tun HS Lee, I can tell you that much. The soup had a beautiful smoky pork flavor and was not too salty, which I’ve found can often be the pitfall of a pork soup. The noodles were good but otherwise unremarkable. But the real star of this dish were the clumps of minced pork, that had been mixed with garlic and shallots and then boiled, resembling the inside of dumplings, that were served with on top of the noodles along with green vegetables and some slices of pork meat.
Mmm.
Here’s a pic of the seller, if that helps any further with the identification process.
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I’ve been tackling Georgetown in Malaysia using one of my tried and tested strategies… the absorption method. I’m not talking about cooking rice. Just eating it.
I still haven’t been to most of the tourist landmarks and frankly I don’t care. But I’ve been to the museum of history and wandered every street of the old town over the last week, observing and taking it all in. I’ve gone past all the sights on the historic Penang walking tour, without the aid of a map. And I’ve been absorbing this city especially through the food.
Sure, I could rush off and tick landmarks off a list. Or I could just wander as I please, seeing the day-to-day and then coming back to bum and blog in the hostel with the little gang of us who have been here for a week or more. The flamboyant Dutch-Indonesian gay guy who inserts double entendre into every sentence like he failed at an audition for “Are You Being Served?.” The smartarse British dude who hates English teachers and uses this as a base in between rock climbing expeditions and teaching English and says that one of the best things about hostelling and meeting so many people is ‘that you come away from this knowing that you are actually one of the sane ones.’
I understand the Rapid Penang bus system and have made full use of the free city circle bus. I’ve wandered Chinatown, Little India, the old colonial administration area, the harbourfront and more. It’s been nice. I’ve had a lot of thinking to do (and still to do), so it’s been a good place to do it.
Today I went for my morning walk through the backstreets and decided to partake of dim sum for breakfast.
The basic dim sum place, Leong Kee Tim Sum Restaurant at 61 Lebuh Kimberly, was just SO Georgetown. Whole families sharing meals with little kids spearing dumplings with chopsticks and fighting over the last sweet red bean roll on the table, old friends, labourers and workers from nearby mechanics shops, young hipsters sipping Chinese tea outside with oversized sunglasses hiding them from the glare and tables of old men engrossed in a checkers game.
Typifying the Georgetown experience, the food was simple, tasty and cheap. Women bustled around in the small space with their steaming carts filled with treats, many not speaking English or Malay, just the local Chinese dialects and the language of gestures. Dim Sum is Sydney is an expensive but popular affair, but here it was no frills and I had my fill for $3, about one eighth what I’d expect to pay in Sydney at least. It also allowed me to indulge my love of admiring ancient chipped teapots.
This is a better way to see a city than any tourist tour, in my humble opinion.
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It’s apparently against the law for taxis in Penang island not to use their meters. But they will always say they don’t have one and no amount of arguments will help you if you are a tourist.
The other day it started raining and I was contemplating catching a cab because there was a rank nearby.
When I asked “With the meter, yeah?” the driver was like “ooohh no. I don’t have a meter.” Then quoted me a ridiculous price.
“I know it’s the law here that you need to use your meter,” I snapped back.
He pauses for a minute, then goes “oooohh no, that hasn’t come in yet. Next year.”
I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow.
He figures I need more proof. He points to a sign in Malay.
“That sign says it. Not… until… next… year!” He points at the (alleged) words as he says them, like you would if you were teaching a child to read.
Bad move buddy. Bahasa Melayu (Malay) and Bahasa Indonesia are about 85-90 percent the same. Plus, I watch a lot of Star World and on all the cable channels in Indonesia, the subtitles are in Malay anyway.
“Aku bisa membaca bahasa Malayu, Pak. (I can read Malay, sir). That sign says that it is forbidden for taxis to take passengers without using their meter. It doesn’t say ‘tahun depan’ (next year) anywhere on it.”
“Oh.”
“So with a meter?”
“No, it’s broken.”
I ended up walking, as a matter of principle.
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Popiah, from Kedai Kopi Baru Hari Hari Datang, which also had a sign saying Hotel Sin Chern, on Jalan Kuala Kangsar. The street is busy in the morning, with vegetable and meat sellers. I’ve found Georgetown to be a very sleepy place before midday, but there’s occasional pockets of activity (and food) near these morning markets. This one was the most hopping I have seen.
This Kedai Kopi was completely crammed full at around 10am, with people eating fish head noodle soup, wan tan mee and lots of other dishes. I’ve been wanting to try Popiah since I arrived, a fresh spring roll dish with beancurd, bean sprouts, chopped peanuts, rice vermicelli, lettuce, sweet bean sauce and chili sauce. It was really, really tasty and I will definitely scoff up Popiah again next time I see a stall.
It was also a good spot to scope out all the action on this busy market street.
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How to decide what to eat for breakfast. Step 1. Walk around to nowhere in particular. Step 2. Spot a shed with no signs that seems to be a functioning coffee shop. Step 3. Order whatever the busiest vendor is making the most of. Step 4. Enjoy.
This morning I ended up at what was literally a shed on a corner with no signs past the Campbell Street market on Lebuh Carnarvon, just before the intersection with Lebuh Acheh, in Chinatown. It was packed with locals, which is the only recommendation I need. I got a kopi o-peng, which are becoming very addictive (I may not be able to wake soon without a morning jolt of caffeine and sugar), and then ordered a bowl of whatever that little old woman was frantically dishing up all by herself to table after table. It turned out to be the noodle soup you can see above.
With chillis on the side. The broth was beautiful… so full of flavor (it was a chicken stock) with a hint of ginger that made it taste like it was healthy, almost medicinal. The noodles were cooked perfectly, the fishballs suitably fishy but not overpoweringly so and the meats (a mix of pork and chicken) and bits of innards (that I chickened out of eating) topped it all off. I have no idea what the dish was called, but it was good.
Considering that it was so close to the market and street vegetable vendors, I reckon it was pretty fresh too.
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