Posts tagged ‘Sightseeing’

Apr 17

Aw Taw Kaw Market

Upscale is the adjective frequently used to describe Aw Taw Kaw, the wet market across the street from Chatuchak. The stalls are orderly and clean, the prices are elevated, but it’s not exactly like Aw Taw Kaw would be mistaken for the food hall at CentralWorld And your typical American grocery shopper? I think they’d have a hard time calling any store without air conditioning upscale.

It is a great place for ogling produce, meat and prepared foods, even if you can sample a few things. I headed to the food court first. Unless you’ve spent some time in Thailand (a few weeks doesn’t count for me) or can read Thai, it’s not always obvious what each stand is selling just based on the observable ingredients on display.

You can see what others order or go the easy route and find a vendor with many sturdy pots out in the open.

A generous helping of rice is spooned onto a plate and you’re given two choices to top it. I pointed at what appeared to be a dry, catfish curry with chile and basil and a soupier curry with fatty strips of pork and what I think was krachai, a rhizome that showed up everywhere in Thailand but is more elusive here unless you like it pickled in a jar. This was some of our favorite food in Bangkok. Curry on rice, simple. I guess we’re easy to please.

I don’t think satay is ever very exciting even when it’s good. James tended to pick up a few skewers everywhere we went.

A father and daughter next to us were playing with a rabbit on their table that I assumed to be a pet (you can buy them at Chatuchak) and not intended for a soup pot. I thought he was cute, at one point he jumped off the table and tried hopping away, but I gathered that animals on dining tables aren’t universally loved. A nearby woman wouldn’t stop glowering. In NYC people act like they don’t care about anomalies, in Asia no one has qualms about delivering an overt look of disapproval.

You may or may not know that I am obsessed with food in unusual colors (I don’t want to say unnatural because I suspect these hues weren’t from synthetic dye) so green, periwinkle and maroon rice completely wowed me. I wish I could’ve tasted the difference among all five styles but there is only so much eating one can do. Besides, I wasn’t sure how they were intended to be eaten.

Taut plastic bags filled with unknown liquids.

Dried fish and shrimp.

So much pork. We did get some slices and chile dip to go.

Som tam kits. Maybe this is what is meant by upscale. Actually, now that I’m looking at this photo again, I’m not sure why I thought this was fixings for a papaya salad. There’s nothing papaya-ish about the mysterious brown squiggles on the upper right side of each package.

Grilled seafood.

Thai marzipan, bean paste not ground almonds.

Pork shanks standing upright.

What does the staff eat on their break? Pizza from The Pizza Company.

Giant melons.

Curry pastes packed into dense mounds much like mole in Mexico. We bought a few small packets but haven’t used them yet.

Something as simple as ordering coconut ice cream could end up being complicated. There were numerous tubs of white ice cream, each a different flavor from what I gathered were different varieties of coconut. I’ve never had a choice about what kind of coconut I’d like to eat. And then you are allowed to pick three toppings from an array of glass jars, maybe 15. This is tab tim grob, a.k.a. red rubies, a.k.a. water chestnuts coated in scarlet tapioca starch, candied slivers of pumpkin and something that they call sea coconut in Malaysia. I have no idea what it’s called in Thai…ok, now I do: look dtao, palm seed.

A convenience store on the perimeter had pay toilets and a cat trying to cool off. A lot of the cats in Thailand seemed as hot and beat up as I was.

Aw Taw Kaw Market * Phaholyothin Rd., Bangkok, Thailand

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Apr 12

Chote Chitr

Even though most English you’ll hear in Bangkok is marked by an Australian or German accent, you still might end up dining next to the vocal American foodie. It’s uncanny.

We were thankful to have finally been able to try Chote Chitr, the much lauded, no secret to anyone, 90-plus-year-old Thai restaurant in Banglamphu. We were thwarted our first day in Thailand when we trekked over to find a closed gate, no explanation. It wasn’t until our last night in the country, two weeks later, post-Hua Hin and Penang, that we were able to get back to that neighborhood and hope for the best. It turns out that they are only open for dinner, 18:00 posted on the backside of their sidewalk chalkboard.

We were excited. The only downside was knowing we wouldn’t be able to eat more than three dishes unlike at Sripraphai where we always over order in anticipation of leftovers. I’m more about choosing wildly than wisely.

Meanwhile, we were getting a reverse Park Slope from the table across from us. Instead of parents demonstrating their genius aloud, teaching their toddlers algebra in the subway or color theory in Ikea, this adult expat child was schooling his visiting parents (and girlfriend) on the right things to order. Shut up, foodie?

Maybe I was just being overly sensitive because he dismissed our order of mee krob, one of Chote Chitr’s signature dishes that he declared, “popular but too sweet.” It Is sweet, the noodles are practically candied. But if you’re going to sample this often maligned, nay ignored (I didn’t think it existed in NYC, though I checked and it is on the menu at Sripraphai. I’ve never heard anyone mention it) preparation, you really do want the non plus ultra mee krob, a designation assigned to Chote Chitr’s rendtion by numerous publications. Just yesterday, I read yet another convincing testament on a CNNgo.com post about five forgotten Thai classics.

Here is gaucheness on a plate. Are you over it yet? It is unusual, a tangled ball of crispy sweet and slightly sour noodles, sliced green onions, bean sprouts and mustard-type greens on the side. Apparently, the ingredient that makes this mee krob unique is peel from som saa, a green bitter citrus fruit that like many Asian fruits is non-existent in the US.

The banana blossom salad is another classic that isn’t ubiquitous in the US. Though the dressing looks creamy, this was the hottest dish we were served, the coconut milk barely tempering the chiles. Bits of chicken and shrimp are tossed with the shredded banana flowers and the pile is topped with fried shallots.

We ordered the crispy bacon with green beans because all vacation we had been looking for an equivalent to Sripraphai’s crispy pork with chile and basil (as well as the crispy watercress salad—I’ve deduced that it’s an invention not a standard). This was more like Chao Thai’s crispy pork pad prik khing, and it was awesomer because while essentially the same dish everything was amplified. The meat had a richer, porkier flavor, there were more lime leaves that I see used in Queens and with a brighter citrus taste, the dish was also less salty while more fish saucey at the same time.

I like to think that there are scores of restaurants in Bangkok with an adherence to tradition and quality while offering such a voluminous menu, and that they’re lesser known only because they aren’t English-friendly. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, Chote Chitr is definitely notable and repeat-visit worthy. My only fear is that if I stayed in Bangkok long enough I might just become the opinionated foodie at the table.

Chote Chitr * 146 Thanon Phraeng Phuton, Bangkok, Thailand

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Apr 12

PlearnWan

PlearnWan, I can’t think of an American equivalent. Colonial Williamsburg? Too sprawling, too established, ancient history. We don’t really celebrate mid-century Americana beyond a love of Formica-and-chrome diners. Sonic and Ruby's are bringing back carhops, and oddly, even Malaysia has jumped into the Happy Days fray).

From what I can gather PlearnWan is a 2009-created site meant to simulate the 1950s, nostalgic fun for young and old alike. It’s kind of a museum despite lacking an educational component, it’s like an amusement park but there is only a small ferris wheel, there’s also a motel, bar, boutiques, vintage shops and food stands selling items that may or may not be old fashioned because I’m not familiar with mid-century Thai fads. The whole complex is compact, narrow and stylish like a modern Manhattan condo, wedged in along the highway just outside of Hua Hin.

I was drawn in by the sharp retro design I had seen on their website, which I stumbled upon accidentally. They’re not even trying to cater to non-Thai tourists. There wasn’t a lick of English on signs and no one was speaking it, only a handful of other non-Asians were bumbling around.

We didn’t bother trying to get a ride from The Putahracsa, fearing that our hotel staff would try to discourage us from visiting (Thai hospitality workers seemed to have strong opinions on what tourists would and wouldn’t enjoy) or try to put is in an overpriced car. We did learn the hard way that while a mile-and-a-half walk in NYC is reasonable, it’s punishing under the instantly sweat-inducing Thai sun. Already sunburned from the day before, I took a cue from the locals and used an umbrella as a shield. Even then, I genuinely thought I was going to have a heat stroke on the walk back to town. We never did figure out how to catch a songthaew.

Despite the numerous stores and services, no one at PlearWan was buying anything. Instead, the entire grounds were like a grand sound stage ripe with photo opportunities. I’m probably now in the background of hundreds of Thai flickr sets. I wonder if the Japanese feel relived that the ‘80s snap-happy tourist stereotype is fading post-digital camera boom. Even the bathroom wasn’t safe from cameras; a group of girls were practically posing on top of me while I tried to wash my hands in peace.

Shaving ice the hard way.

A coffee shop. Many of the cans and packages in front are just for show.

Yellow, red and green squiggles with matching ladles, to be served over ice, I assume. The green must be the most popular. Personally, I like the little cat figurines.

Fried rolls filled with what I think were taro and glutinous rice. The crushed peanuts and chiles were sitting atop a thick, gooey sweet sauce.

I’m fairly certain these were the same Thai tacos, kanom buang, I had been seeing around Bangkok but even better with a slew of sweet flavors.

I spy some pumpkin, squash, raisins, coconut, sprinkles…I can’t read Thai, though. I picked the green custardy one, which I assumed was pandan.

The bar was empty; I don’t think it was open yet.

In the background are three painted scenes primed for photo-taking.

Ice cream parlor. The pandan, coconut milk ice cream was wonderful. I was dying of thirst and slammed a paper cup of water from the metal cooler on the counter and got a mouthful of moldy mildew flavor. No one else seemed to have a problem with it, though. Maybe it’s a microby taste you get used to.

PlearnWan * 4/9 Soi Moo Ban Bor Fai, Hua Hin, Thailand

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Apr 10

Bei Otto

As has become de rigueur on Southeast Asian vacations, I ate at a German restaurant in Bangkok. Indulging in a little pork shank and sauerkraut doesn't make me feel guilty in and of itself, but I shudder at being pegged as a homesick tourist (that's what Sizzler is for). German food isn't any less foreign than Thai food to me; it’s the double-foreignness that makes it perversely fun. The sickest thing about German fare in the tropics is how heavy it is for the climate. On our stop early into this trip, I couldn't bear to sit in the front beer garden (we sat inside). By my last night in Thailand, two weeks later, I was drinking outside in the elements (at a Thai bar, thank you) like a pro.

These pretzel rolls were amazing. Why have I not encountered this warm, chewy bread before? They were also the first non-airline food I'd eaten in over 22 hours so my judgment could've been clouded.

Welcome to the pork shank. From this angle, the porcine hunk almost resembles a beige heart. Some of my favorite crispy pork preparations are Thai, so I knew they would get the tender-crusty contrast right. The dense, spongy potatoes had to have been instant (I have a fondness for instant potatoes but realize this isn’t a selling point for most). Luckily, they were the only dud and this meal was about the meat anyway.

I don't generally recommend eating non-local food unless you're going to be in a country for at least two weeks. I couldn’t resist seeing how double-foreign food will turn out. There were no obvious Thai twists, the cuisine was very traditional. If I had more time to spare, I would've gone to Tawandeng, a brewery/entertainment center outside the city center that is more of a hybrid. They serve their deep-fried pork knuckle with a chile dipping sauce (and the requisite mashed potatoes and sauerkraut). I like my fatty meats cut with hot, sharp condiments like this. Now that I think about it, Bei Otto probably had sriracha sitting around—it’s not as if they don’t get Thai clientele.

Bei Otto * 1 Sukhumvit Soi 20, Bangkok, Thailand

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Apr 8

Un-American Activities: Sizzler Bangkok

I had recently been thinking how I never ever think about Sizzler. It's a non-entity in the casual dining universe of New York City suburbs. The chain's prominence in Thailand really threw me for a loop. At prime dinner times, groups were actually crowded around the entrances waiting for seats. Maybe this merited a visit?

Of course it did. We hit the end of a lunch rush, lots of office groups and predominantly Thai, if you must know. No Malibu Chicken, the caloric charmer of my youth. The lure appeared to be the salad bar (which I didn't realize until later was all-you-could-eat). Iced tea so sweet it makes its southern relative taste like a health tonic, was also unlimited.

The salad bar wasn’t wildly different than an American one, but there were certainly differences like the pumpkin cashew salad and spicy pork. I don’t imagine we have tom yum soup in our buffets either.

The blue cheese, however, was nearly thick and unspreadable as refrigerated peanut butter.

Portions were very un-American, completely reasonable yet petite. The Texas toast cut into halves was meant for two.

I was certain they'd bungle my medium-rare request, and the steak, which I only ordered out of duty wasn't bad. I was expecting the dull, blandness that you get from places like Outback Steakhouse. This little filet actually had flavor and a pleasant texture. I have no idea where the meat comes from. Obviously not Australia since imported beef from down under is a special weekend promotion. Bangkok, only, though.

I was owed a dessert so I picked up the mauve fluff instead of the brown fluff. It just tasted like artificial raspberry-flavored (oops, it’s supposed to blueberry—see? It’s impossible to tell) whipped cream.

Sizzler * CP Tower, 313 Silom Rd., 2nd Fl., Bangkok, Thailand

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Apr 2

Suan Lum Night Bazaar

When I was planning my original not-to-be trip to Thailand for November 2008, I kept reading how the Suan Lum night bazaar was on the verge of closing and it could happen at any moment. The sprawling, less dense and slightly less skin scalding (though no less humid) than Chatuchak night market in the center of Bangkok, lost its lease in 2007. Yet it was still there in 2008 even though I couldn’t get into Suvarnabhumi, and it was still there in March 2010 when I finally did make it to Bangkok.

I wasn’t there to bargain or shop (James bought a “Prada” wallet) though I did spy some very cool shoes. I really liked those colorful oxford flats. However, I gave up on trying to buy clothing and shoes in SE Asia long ago (I had my eye out for Fat Story, supposedly at Suan Lum, at the very least for a photo op). It’s not worth the humiliation—if you’re larger than an American size 8 in either shoe or dress I suggest you find other pursuits in Thailand.

Like eating. Suan Lum has a food court/beer garden with an enormous amount of seating and a large stage with a video monitor to showcase the er, entertainment. James said it all, “I’ve never heard so much bad singing in public.” True, no shame from Filipino cover bands at hotel lounges, the blind with microphones shuffling through tourist markets or the highly choreographed, costumed dance routines of the bands performing tone deaf Thai pop at Suan Lum. It hurts less when you can’t understand the words.

But it’s all good fun. The food, I suspect is pricier than what you could get off the street and toned down a notch for foreigners, but is still quite tasty and hardly a rip off. Plus, there’s lots of beer and those outdoor misters you encounter all over Thailand and Malaysia that don’t even come close to approximating air conditioning but you’re thankful for anyway. You will never be able to stop sweating completely, maybe even if you lived there for a decade. I don’t think we spent more than $10 in newsprint stapled together tickets, which you buy from one booth and get your remainder refunded at another window upon leaving.

I really took a shining to som tam this vacation. I don’t think I’ve eat so much papaya salad in a two-week period. This seafood-laded version could’ve been spicer, though I might not have realized how demure it was if we hadn’t just been pummeled by what I’d expected to be a run-of-the-mill street version in a go-go bar corner of Hua Hin.

The same stand also had fried pork neck with a chile dipping sauce. So simple and fatty, perfect drinking food.

I didn’t eat any pad thai in Thailand. It was probably good. I was just shying away from the obvious American choice. I do wonder if that’s an American thing or a if pad thai is the most popular dish everywhere outside Thailand.

Oyster omelet was a random choice. It’s not my favorite dish; even good versions are kind of greasy, filling and starchy. I bought a bottle of Heinz chili sauce, also called sriracha but slightly sweeter and more orange than the popular Huy Fong brand (yes, Vietnamese-American) condiment in the states. Maybe I’ll attempt this eggy dish at home.

I’m not even sure what they were selling at Staek House.

There was no question what they were slinging at French Fries.

Suan Lum Night Bazaar * Corner of Wireless and Rama IV Rds., * Bangkok, Thailand

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Mar 31

Sakae Sushi

Kaiten, a.k.a. conveyor belt sushi, was oddly popular in the malls of both Penang and Bangkok. The glory didn’t belong to a single chain either; competitors resided on the same floors or one above the other like Sushi King and Sakae Sushi in Gurney Plaza.

We chose Sakae Sushi, a Singaporean chain, which I’m now seeing has/had (the URL is dead) a midtown and West Village location. I had no idea. I would not be surprised if this hyped in 2008 restaurant was already kaput because the food isn’t anything special once you get past the novelty.

But if I’m in a foreign country for at least five days, I feel ok with branching out into other cuisines than what’s native. We’d crammed in so much laksa, rojak, satay and char kway teow into our first few days in Penang that I was ready for something lighter, maybe Japanese. Inevitably we ended up with lots of ricey/fried dishes so my original intent was lost.

I was a little excited about the touch screens at each table so you could order with zero human interaction, but we got the loser space for two with a broken monitor. This was a strange aspect of Penang—we always got horrible seats. Others had huge booths for small groups while we got a cramped tiny table hidden in the back. Being the only Westerner in a place can go two ways—either you get uncomfortable, over-the-top service or the staff gets weirded out and tries not to interact with you. This was the latter.

You pay by the plate, which are color coded. On the low end a green plate of simple vegetarian sushi might cost 60 cents and a special black plate prawn concoction with kimchi and tomatoes might cost $3.75. Nothing is outrageously priced, which is why we were surprised that we managed to spend $45 (tax and 10% service charge included—to tip or not to tip always posed such a dilemma), our most expensive meal in Malaysia at that point. A couple Tiger beers were also involved.

Eel-wrapped something or another.

Some cheapo crab stick, omelet sushi.

Soft shell crab tempura with ponzu dipping sauce off the menu.

Sashimi, also off the menu. They go for practicality over presentation, leaving the icepack beneath the raw seafood.

Fried chicken nuggets. I grabbed the plate because of the fish cake sails.

I just like the fried fish head popping out of the roll.

Tempura’d sushi.

Sakae Sushi * Gurney Plaza 170-03-87/88/89, Penang, Malaysia

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Mar 30

Line Clear Nasi Kandar

Unlike my first gluttonous foray into nasi kandar, point-and-pick Indian-Muslim food over rice, I showed restraint on my second visit to Penang. I might’ve ordered more this time too, but I go with the flow when I’m not completely familiar with a dining style.

“White rice or biryani?” was the first question. Plain, trying to save calories (I kid…sort of). The New Yorker in me can’t bear holding up lines, so no time was wasted with the “What’s in that pan?” game. I identified chicken curry and settled on that. I would’ve liked something from the sea, maybe squid eggs, as well. My contemplative mood was ended by, “What vegetable?” Uh ok, green beans, then. “Cabbage?” That seemed like a requirement…so, yes. Then the guy manning the station ladles gravy from different dishes, not necessarily the ones you ordered, onto the rice. See? You don’t really need the biryani.

Some people eat with their hands, some don’t. Everyone eats quickly and no one wastes a speck. Even though I didn’t load up with a zillion different items like at Kayu Nasi Kandar (now out of business), this was a lot of food. I wouldn’t normally eat all of this rice, but to leave food behind seemed very American and grotesque and I have a hard enough time throwing away food as it is.

Clearly, there are scraps to be had. This tiny cat had a chicken bone to herself. 85% of the felines I’ve encountered in SE Asia are unusually small, angular-faced and have short tails, not like manxes but half the length or a typical US cat, with stubs on the end like they’ve been broken. This cat’s tail doesn’t extend behind the table leg, what’s pictured is the end of it. My cat weighs over 20 pounds even though I feed her as much as our normal-sized cat, so I am fascinated by these sylphs. I also wonder if you could possibly eat nasi kandar on a regular basis and not plump up.

A man at the table behind me wanted to chat because he had heard our American accents (I’ve always wondered if in SE Asia, for instance, they can distinguish among different English accents—there are definitely more Australians and Germans speaking English than Americans). He was in Penang taking his mother to a cardiologist even though he lived in Idaho where he runs a Chinese restaurant. I really wanted to ask what kind of food he serves—how could someone who probably enjoys char kway teow serve kung pao to his neighbors? Maybe he could answer this question I stumbled upon today in the Boise Weekly, “Why does most of the Chinese food in Idaho, well, suck?”

Line Clear Nasi Kandar * Jalan Penang & Lebuh Chulia, Penang, Malaysia

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Mar 28

Lorong Seratus Tahun

1/2 I try to be open minded about others’ food limitations. Even so, I will admit that while at a sushi lunch with a few workmates the other day, I was stunned to hear that crème brulee was something that one coworker’s new husband reluctantly tried for the first time on their recent Disneyworld honeymoon. “Um, that’s a delicious dessert, not something weird,” added the other luncher. Indeed.

While I don’t go in for the gross for the sake of being shocking antics, if a dish traditionally contains un unusual ingredient I definitely want to eat it the way it was intended, not toned down for delicate sensibilities. If it turns out to be loathsome? Lesson learned.

So, maybe I was being sneaky when I ordered two bowls of curry mee at Lorong Seratus Tahun, nodding yes to all of the mix-ins. I knew full well that James wasn’t going to be as enamored of pig’s blood as I.

“Should I even ask what this is?” he hesitated, poking at the jiggly crimson cubes. “Kidneys? Heart?” I had to break the bloody news, but countered that the texture isn’t much different than tofu. Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t like tofu either. I ended up with a double-dose of pig’s blood cubes.

Anyway, I loved this soup. Even though Penang laksa had undeniable hot-sour charms, I always fall for the spicy-creamy coconut milk-based soups. As you can see from the color of the prawn-enriched broth, they use a light hand with the coconut milk. This isn’t lemak as the curry laksa that’s more common in Singapore.

The fried bean curd puff soak up the flavor, cockles, shrimp and squid (not sure if that’s common or not) add chewiness from the sea and the coagulated pig’s blood? Yes, that is unusual. I suppose Portuguese combine shellfish and pork in delicious ways. Just as I can’t even imagine how it was decided to combine cuttlefish, fruit and prawn paste in rojak, I don’t how the idea of putting pig’s blood into a seafood-based soup came about either. Definitely a Chinese influence, and far from wasteful. Two types of noodles are used, both fat yellow egg noodles and rice vermicelli. You can add as much sambal as you like for extra oily spice; containers are left on the table.

I have been thinking about this bowl of curry mee off and on for the past few weeks, usually at work when I try to calculate if I have enough time to hop up to Chinatown and back during lunch. I’m not even sure where to go downtown. Nonya? New Malaysia? Skyway? Malaysian food in NYC often seems like a facsimile in ways that are harder to pinpoint than with American Thai food. I think it just comes down to ingredients and lack of a strong Malaysian/Singaporean presence in the city to keep flavors on track. I’ve had positive experiences at Taste Good in Elmhurst but that takes more planning.

As the check was brought at the close of my sushi lunch, a send-off plate of cantaloupe showed up instead of the usual orange slices. Payback time. After discussion of crème brulee and pig’s blood fears, I was faced with my own irrational won’t-touch-it dislike: melon.

Lorong Seratus Tahun * 55 Lorong Seratus Tahun, Penang, Malaysia

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Mar 28

Air Itam Laksa

“Laksa,” the taxi drivers hovering at the bottom of our hotel’s driveway in Penang started calling out when we’d walk past. “You like laksa! You want more laksa?” Embarrassed and a little proud, we’d have to turn then down, “No, we’re just walking.”

Penang is not a huge place, so after one of the men drove us out to Air Itam for laksa on our first day on the island, we became recognized as the laksa-lovers. I liked that about Penang, that locals were kind of amused but didn’t think it was particularly odd that the Westerners wanted to go on laksa excursions.

For contrast, in Bangkok, we used Saochingcha, the Giant Swing, as a landmark to direct taxis, not because we wanted to see the monument or the wat next to it, but Saochingcha was a word we could pronounce and that would be recognized and happened to be near a good eating neighborhood off the subway system, away from the hotel strips of Sukhumvit and Silom.

But when we asked our doorman at our first hotel to explain our destination to the cab driver (one of the most humbling aspects of traveling in a non-English or Spanish speaking country) he was discouraging and warned, “There’s nothing to do there.” Our “Oh, we’re going to eat” reassurance just baffled him further. Later in the vacation when we told the man directing cabs at MBK that we needed to get to Saochingcha he actually shook his head at another staffer and rolled his eyes.

Air Itam, a community that’s also home to Penang Hill (sadly, they closed the funicular just a week before we arrived—not that the rickety incline during a rainstorm didn’t jangle my nerves on our last visit) and Kek Lok Si temple, is just under four miles from the Gurney Drive area but feels much more isolated. I actually saw a man using a kandar, a long wooden pole atop his shoulder to carry plastic grocery bags, a modern nod, rather than balancing pots or baskets of yore. The entire area west of Air Itam on Google Maps is blank.

Air Itam is also known for its laksa. I had read that this corner stand is a tour bus stop and feared mobs, but when we arrived in the early afternoon no one else was seated at the few metal tables.

The first thing you’ll notice about this soup is that it’s much chunkier than what you typically find at stalls. They use a base that contains a larger proportion of flaked mackerel. Combined with the fat, round rice noodles just below the surface, even a smallish bowl (they have one standard size for RM3.00, which seemed to be the going rate for laksa in Penang, about 90 cents) is hearty. We were asked if we wanted chiles. Yes, and you should too. Malaysian food is spicy but rarely hot. The red chile rings meld with the sludgy topping of mint, onion, cucumber, bunga kantan (torch ginger bud—not that that means much of anything here either) and black prawn paste, and makes the whole hodgepodge taste like…well, laksa.

Easier said than done. I’ve never attempted to cook this asam style at home but my forays into laksa lemak and Sarawakian laksa (using a paste straight from the Malaysian state) fell flat. Something is lacking (don’t say love) and the flavors always end up dulled. Good enough for NYC but not great.

Air Itam Laksa * Jalan Pasar next to the Air Itam Market, Penang, Malaysia

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Posts tagged ‘Sightseeing’

Aw Taw Kaw Market

Chote Chitr

PlearnWan

Bei Otto

Un-American Activities: Sizzler Bangkok

Suan Lum Night Bazaar

Sakae Sushi

Line Clear Nasi Kandar

Lorong Seratus Tahun

Air Itam Laksa

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