Malay Mail - Eat-drink

Puchong’s Makang Sedak will make any homesick Terangganuan happy with its ‘nasi dagang ikan aye’ and the rarely seen ‘bubur lambuk’ Terengganu

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 08:48:08 +0800

PUCHONG, July 13 — It’s only 8am but there’s a queue in front of this stall inside Medan Selera MBSJ Puchong Permai.

Welcome to Makang Sedak, where you get Terengganu food cooked like in the old days.

Almost 90 per cent of those waiting are there to take-away the food, probably tasked by their families to bring home breakfast while others laze in bed.

Nasi Dagang Ikan Aye (RM9) looked plain on the plate — just a mound of rice topped by a huge chunk of ‘ikan aye’ — gulai in a bowl on the side, along with acar.

Nasi Dagang Ikan Aya may look plain when served but it's worth lining up for. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The white glutinous rice is soft with long grains, absorbing the gulai and coating each grain to infuse it with flavour.

Your piece of fish is a largish chunk without the head, making it easy to cubit or pinch a small piece of white flesh to eat with the gulai soaked rice.

On the side, a crunchy acar of cucumber, red chilies, and onions, refreshes the tongue. There’s also a small whole red chili for you to ramp up the heat in this dish.

Once the gravy is poured over the rice, just pinch a piece of the fish to relish with. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Those accustomed to heavier Kelantan fare will find this dish less sweet, offering a cleaner savoury taste, much like simple kampung food.

Nasi Minyak (RM9), or rice sauteed with ghee is a simple affair here unlike the versions found in wedding feasts that are bejewelled with raisins and nuts.

Its faithful companion is a gulai and only the chicken version is found here.

Nasi Minyak with its long grains sauteed in ghee and paired with 'gulai ayam' is breakfast fare in Terengganu - Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The consistency may look thin but it holds up well, with spices lightly infusing the rice, making it a good way to start the day.

Laksa can be found here in two forms: one with kuah putih and another with kuah merah.

Soft fresh rice noodles are used, mixed with your choice of gravy.

The white one is simpler, relying on fresh santan, black pepper, fish and a clutch of fresh ulam for flavour.

Laksa Kuah Merah uses a chilli spice paste to give it extra spiciness (left). The noodles served with the ‘laksa’ is smooth and soft. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Laksa Kuah Merah (RM8) uses a chilli spice paste that gives the thicker fish gravy an extra oomph.

An assortment of crunchy fresh bean sprouts and chopped long beans adds crunch and freshness to your bowl of laksa.

The pièce de résistance is the Bubur Lambuk Terengganu (RM7), packed on the spot in batches at the side of the table.

Weekend special is Bubur Lambuk Terengganu that differs from the usual porridge served as this version is full of foraged 'pucuk midin' and sweet potato. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A weekend-only treat, it’s completely different from the bubur lambuk served in the Klang Valley.

The porridge is cooked with pucuk midin until it contains more greens than smooth rice grains.

Pucuk midin is a wild fern foraged from forests and often used in stir fries back in Terengganu.

Dig deep inside each tub to triumphantly get a chunk of orange sweet potato.

Laksa is prepped on the side of the stall where the noodles are served with the broth and vegetables (left). Pulut Gaul Nyior is packed in boxes for a quicker takeaway (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

As you eat a spoonful of the porridge, the taste of fish comes through as blended fish flesh combines with the porridge.

It feels healthy with the greens yet savoury with that lingering flavour of fish.

This porridge isn’t often found in the Klang Valley and is usually limited to the fasting month, where stalls selling it pop up in Ramadan bazaars.

For those who arrive early to queue, the bubur lambuk usually arrives later so circle back to the stall to find it packed in tubs right next to the Pulut Gaul Nyior, a popular Terengganu breakfast dish where glutinous rice is mixed with fresh grated coconut, salt and fried fish.

Look out for the queue that starts right in front of the stall as many regulars drop by to pack home with their breakfast. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A couple we sat next to who call Terengganu their kampung explained that in their home state, many places don’t serve the old taste of Terengganu food as recipes aren’t passed down to the younger generation.

Since relocating to the Klang Valley, they travel around looking for Terengganu food and Makang Sedak plus the Sri Kembangan Kafe Masakan Terengganu Asli are their chosen spots.

Makang Sedak

Stall No. 8, Medan Selera MBSJ Puchong Permai,

Jalan Permai 3,

Taman Puchong Permai, Puchong.

Open: 8am to 1.30pm or until food finishes. Closed on Tuesdays.

Tel: 010-9324493

Instagram: @makang_sedak

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

The Home Cooking Dishes, Sungai Way: Known for ‘tor dei char siew’ and poached ‘kampung’ chicken, but the roast pork steals the show

Ethan Lau — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 08:55:24 +0800

PETALING JAYA, July 12 — As a self-professed bak zaam gai (white cut chicken) fanatic, I’m often sent recommendations by friends and peers eager for my verdict on their local spots.

Truth be told, not all of them pan out. But such is my enjoyment of the dish – I’ve been described as an iPad kid, but with the tablet swapped for white cut chicken – that even a halfway decent version can salvage an entire meal if the rest of the dishes fall short.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case at The Home Cooking Dishes in Sungai Way.

Like most of the good eateries in the area, it operates out of a house. Yet another win for nominative determinism!

It’s a small operation, open for lunch daily and adding dinner service on weekends.

Much has been made of its to dei char siew and poached kampung chicken, both online and in the newspaper clippings hanging around the restaurant, so I was especially keen to try them.

It can be hard to spot, but The Home Cooking Dishes can be found underneath a big tree on the intersection of Jalan SS 9A/12 and Jalan SS 9A/2. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Beyond those two, there’s a small, rotating menu: fish, tofu, vegetables, the usual suspects. Siew yoke is a Friday-to-Sunday special.

But first, it bears mentioning that this is a very popular spot, and getting a table requires more than a wink and a smile.

My first attempt to walk in on a Sunday night was, frankly, embarrassing: at half past five, there was already a crowd standing around the entrance waiting to get in.

Pure amateur hour on my part.

The ‘to dei char siew’ has been hyped up online and in newspaper clippings in the restaurant, but it lacked the sort of deep caramelisation that makes a truly great ‘char siew’. — Picture by Ethan Lau

I returned, determined, on a Friday at 11.15am sharp, and succeeded; the place filled up soon around noon.

In addition to the kampung chicken (RM38.90) and roast pork (RM28.90), I ordered claypot kangkung (RM18.90), pineapple tofu (RM15.90) and braised grouper with bitter gourd (RM48.90).

You’ll notice there’s no char siew (RM28.90) in that lineup. It wasn’t available that day, so I had to come back again.

It’s best to call or WhatsApp ahead to check before planning a visit. When I finally did try it, though, I was left underwhelmed.

The true ‘pièce de résistance’ here should be the excellent roast pork. — Picture by Ethan Lau

See, I like my char siew dark and intensely caramelised: a thick, dark bark around the outside, soft fatty meat in the middle.

This version lives up to its name – to dei means “dragging on the floor,” referring to pork belly so fat it touches the ground – and the fat-to-meat ratio is spot on, but there’s little caramelisation to speak of.

That rich, toasty sweetness I crave is missing; instead, this leans largely on the sauce for its sweetness.

Folks who prefer their char siew in this style will enjoy it, but I was left wanting more.

Luckily, salvation came in the form of roast pork — as it so often does.

Listed as ha beng siew yoke, the name refers to crackling supposedly so thin and crispy it resembles a prawn cracker.

As far as white cut chicken goes, the version here is more than decent. But the lean meat of a ‘kampung’ chicken yields a firmer texture than I would like. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Here, too, the dish lived up to its name — and unlike the char siew, I loved this.

Thin, crispy crackling that shatters like glass, soft meat, just the right amount of savouriness, and a sharp chilli sauce on the side: this was the true star of the show.

It’s not often that a dish outshines white cut chicken for me, but the siew yoke here is the real deal.

The poached kampung chicken, meanwhile, was smooth enough, flavoured mostly with sesame oil, crispy garlic and seasoned soy — though the lean meat meant the mouthfeel was firm and taut rather than slippery and jelly-like, which is my personal preference.

Pineapple tofu is a scarcely seen but interesting preparation that adds a tangy dimension to the dish. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Of the rest of the supporting cast, the claypot kangkung and pineapple tofu were the most impressive.

The former had chunks of prawn scattered throughout; the latter used the tart, fruity qualities of pineapple to perk up what would otherwise be a run-of-the-mill tofu dish.

The braised grouper with bitter gourd, meanwhile, was restrained enough that the gourd’s earthiness still came through — depending on who you ask, that’s either a good or bad thing.

For a restaurant so intent on serving a taste of home, The Home Cooking Dishes mostly delivers.

The char siew, I’ll let someone else champion. The poached chicken and everything else were good, but I’m still thinking about that siew yoke: crackling that shattered clean, meat that was gone too fast.

That alone is worth the wait outside the door, and worth going back for.

The braised grouper with bitter gourd is light on just about every other flavour, which allows the gourd’s earthiness to come through. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The Home Cooking Dishes

555, Jalan SS 9A/12,

SS 9A, Petaling Jaya,

Open Monday to Friday, 11.30am-2pm; Saturday to Sunday, 11.30am-2pm, 5.30-8pm. Closed on Tuesday.

Tel: 016-677 3200

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more unfiltered takes on food and wine.

From outsider to world champion: The story behind Malaysian Nas Jaafar’s historic World Brewers Cup victory

Kenny Mah — Sat, 11 Jul 2026 08:20:06 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 11 — When the announcer read out the name of the 2026 World Brewers Cup winner in Brussels, on June 27, there was a brief pause before the reality settled in. Malaysia had done something it had never done before.

Nas Jaafar had become the nation’s first World Brewers Cup champion. 

For Nas, the moment still feels difficult to describe. “My first thought was, ‘You actually made it. Thank God,’” he says.

“After so much training, pressure and self-doubt, it felt like everything had finally come together. I also thought about my family, my team and everyone back home who supported me.” 

Watching from backstage, his coach, Jhon Christhoper, was overcome with emotion when he realised that his protégé had placed ahead of finalists from Australia, Hong Kong, the Czech Republic, South Korea and France. 

Nas was coached by Jhon Christhoper (second from left), founder of Fugol Coffee Roasters and a finalist at the World Brewers Cup 2022. — Picture courtesy of Nas Jaafar and Jhon Christhoper

He recalls, “When Nas was announced as champion, I screamed, cried and laughed.”

And for those following from Malaysia — café owners, professional roasters, baristas and coffee lovers — the victory represented far more than just a trophy to us.

The World Brewers Cup is considered the premier global competition for manual coffee brewing, attracting national champions from more than 50 countries each year. For countries with smaller coffee industries, merely reaching the final is considered a significant achievement. 

For years, Malaysian competitors had travelled overseas hoping simply to be taken seriously. Now, one of them had come home a world champion.

Yet only days earlier, few would have predicted that outcome. 

“When we first arrived in Brussels, I knew no one saw us as the strong team,” says Jhon, himself an Indonesia Brewers Cup champion and World Brewers Cup finalist in Melbourne, both in 2022.

His ambition, at first, was modest: “My first prayer was simple: help Nas reach the final and go further than I did in Melbourne.”

That mindset eventually crystallised into a mantra that guided the entire campaign: “No one needs to expect us to win; our job is to make that expectation irrelevant.”

The philosophy suited both men. They understood they were arriving as outsiders, competing against countries with longer competitive histories. Rather than chasing recognition, they focused on preparation. 

That preparation had been years in the making. 

At 37, Nas did not arrive at the world stage through a conventional career path. Since entering the coffee industry in 2014, he has worked almost every role imaginable — from barista and café manager to business owner and, today, regional sales for Falcon Coffees.

By the time he stood before the World Brewers Cup judges, he had experienced coffee from nearly every angle of the trade.

“That journey has allowed me to experience coffee from many perspectives,” he says. “From brewing and serving customers to running businesses and working with green coffee across the region.” 

Nas and Jhon began working together in early 2024, when Nas had just finished fifth at the Malaysia Brewers Cup. The road from there was deliberately uncomfortable. 

After winning the 2025 Malayisa Brewers Cup, Nas continued training for the World Brewers Cup. — Picture courtesy of Nas Jaafar and Jhon Christhoper

“In my second year of coaching, Nas matured significantly,” Jhon says. “He became more systematic, started asking questions and developed the confidence to grow independently.”

The process, he says, was far from easy. “There were painful lessons, hard conversations and a lot of pressure. But it built trust, chemistry and faith.” 

All that hard work paid off; by 2025, Nas was our national Brewers Cup champion.

He had no time to rest on his laurels, however; instead, preparations for the World Brewers Cup intensified. Every aspect of the presentation came under scrutiny.

“I first reflected on my national routine and identified what needed improvement,” Nas explains. “About three months before the World Brewers Cup, our preparation became much more focused.” 

Every aspect of the presentation — concept, timing, workflow and communication — was refined until each movement felt intentional. 

The greatest challenge, however, wasn’t technical. 

“Managing my mindset was one of the biggest challenges,” Nas says. “The technical side was demanding, but the mental pressure of representing Malaysia on the world stage was even greater.”

Jhon coaching Nas. —Picture courtesy of Nas Jaafar and Jhon Christhoper

Like many elite competitors, he occasionally questioned whether progress was coming quickly enough.

“There were times I doubted myself or felt the routine wasn’t progressing quickly enough. I learned to trust my preparation, focus on what I could control and surround myself with people who gave honest support.”

That mental discipline would become as important as anything he brewed.

Nas competed with a natural anaerobic Geisha coffee from Finca Nuguo in Panama, chosen for what it let him explore rather than flavour alone.

“My routine explored how resistance affects water flow, extraction and the final cup,” he explains.

Put simply: when water passes through ground coffee, it meets resistance. Too much slows the flow, too little speeds it up, and both affect extraction and taste.

The idea did double duty as personal philosophy.

“I used to see resistance as something negative,” Nas says. “Through this routine, I wanted to show that if we understand and manage resistance, it can guide us toward better results.” 

Life works in strange ways; this concept of resistance was about to be tested rather more literally, a few weeks later, in Brussels… when everything went wrong.

Before departure, Jhon, busy with running Fugol Coffee Roasters and other commitments in Indonesia, had already revised Nas’s script based on judges’ feedback.

Then, two days before leaving, the equipment failed.

“The Ikawa roasting machine I planned to use broke down,” Jhon says, “so I had to bring one that wasn’t calibrated for Nas’s coffee.”

The problems continued in Belgium.

“The unexpected heat in Brussels changed how the coffee tasted, and we received more feedback that required script changes,” Jhon recalls.

He sourced a replacement bean through a contact in Singapore and tested roasts each morning before the temperature climbed, refining the routine against the clock.

Instead of fracturing the team, the pressure strengthened it.

“Through it all, our team never argued,” Jhon says. “Everyone listened, set aside their egos and worked together.”

By competition day, the scrambling was behind them, and what remained was mostly a battle inside Nas’s own head.

“

Nas observed that competitions ‘are never fully predictable… I had to stay present, control my nerves.’— Picture courtesy of Nas Jaafar and Jhon Christhoper

Competitions are never fully predictable,” he says. “The biggest adjustment was managing myself. I had to stay present, control my nerves, and avoid rushing… I focused on the next step and trusted the work we had put in. 

Then came time for the announcements, the tension rising as each name was called. 

Jimmy Leong, co-owner of Afloat Coffee Roaster in Bukit Jalil, was in the audience when history was made.

He recalls, “There were only a few of us Malaysians in the venue, but we had our flag ready. When 4th place was called, we moved right up to the front row. Then, when he wasn’t called for 3rd or 2nd place, we all screamed like crazy! It felt completely unbelievable.” 

Nas himself says it barely registered in real time; he was too stunned.

He says, “To be honest, I’m still taking it all in. During the competition, I just focused on my routine and being present with the judges. It only started to feel real after I got so many messages from people back home.”

For his coach, it was a well-deserved release after two years of work together. Jhon says, “I never expected us to beat teams coached by world champions.”

He believes Nas became champion “not for himself, but to carry a greater responsibility for Malaysian coffee.” 

Nas echoes his coach’s sentiment: “What makes me happiest is that this achievement matters not just to me, but also to the Malaysian coffee community.”

For his peers, the victory felt like the culmination of years of waiting. One of the most moving scenes came when Nas called his fellow Malaysians to join him for a group photograph.

“We witnessed one of the biggest milestones in the Malaysian coffee industry,” recalls Jimmy. “I felt so proud to be there and to share the stage with Nas and the team.”

Nas is quick to point out that this isn’t a solo success. 

“This achievement isn’t just about one person,” he says. “It reflects years of effort from the entire Malaysian coffee community and the competitors who came before me.”

Indeed, Malaysia’s specialty coffee scene has spent years earning recognition on the global stage. 

Recent milestones include four-time Malaysia Barista Champion Jason Loo, who made history as the first Malaysian to reach the finals of the World Barista Championship in 2025, finishing fourth overall, and Jacky Chang, who became the first runner-up at the World Latte Art Championship in April 2026.

Afloat Coffee Roaster’s Jimmy Leong (third from left, front row) recalls how Malaysians at the venue celebrated Nas Jaafar’s historic victory. — Picture courtesy of Nas Jaafar and Jhon Christhoper

Now, with Nas claiming the World Brewers Cup title, Malaysian coffee professionals have capped an extraordinary run of success on the world stage. 

“This achievement will be a powerful catalyst for us to move forward and grow together as coffee professionals,” says Jimmy. “We have officially proven that Malaysians can brew world-class coffee.” 

If the victory changes how the world views Malaysian coffee, Nas hopes it also changes how young Malaysians view themselves. 

“I hope people see that nothing is impossible, even on the world stage,” he says. “It has always been about heart and mindset, not just coffee.”

He wants future competitors to believe they belong before they ever step onto the international stage.

“My next step is to contribute more and inspire the next generation. I want to share what I’ve learned and help create more opportunities for our community.” 

Winning, he insists, is not the destination.

“The title matters, but what I do next is even more important.” 

The trophy will always mark a historic first. Its greater legacy, however, may be that it changes what the next generation believes is possible.

What once seemed a dream is now a reality. For Malaysian specialty coffee, our story does not end with a world championship. No, my friends, this is only just beginning.

For more tales of coffee and cafés, of beans and baristas, visit Life for Beginners.

Newcomer Fujin Ramen brings comforting ‘tori paitan ramen’ and a potent ‘ebi tsukemen’ to Steppes @ Mont Kiara

Lee Khang Yi — Fri, 10 Jul 2026 08:45:49 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 10 — A bowl of ramen when done right hits you hard with its flavours and leaves you craving a second round or so.

I have been slowly eating my way around Steppes @ Mont Kiara, which has a slew of new places.

One impressive spot is Fujin Ramen, which is linked to Raijin Ramen from REXKL.

In Japanese mythology, Raijin and Fujin are brother gods: controlling thunder and wind.

Perhaps this is a nod to the two brothers, Larry and Gary Tan, who are behind Raijin Ramen, Fujin Ramen and Koka Izakaya.

Sit at the counter for a front row seat to a ramen cooking show where bowls of ‘tori paitan ramen’ are being prepared for service. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The headline act here is the FUJIN Tori Paitan (RM32), which their menu promises will be “rich, savoury and deeply comforting”.

That description suited my palate but taste is individual, especially since everyone’s comfort levels vary widely.

Your bowl arrives with a frothy top reminiscent of the famed mushroom cappuccino soup popularised in the 1980s by French chef Alain Chapel, one of the originators of nouvelle cuisine.

As you drink each spoonful, the flavours unfurl on your tongue with depth, yet they are kept in check by the lightness of the airy foam.

Wait, where’s my broth? The Ebi Tsukumen puts the fun back into ramen with a potent prawn dipping sauce. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Poached chicken breast is so moist that it makes you double-check if it’s really the boneless part of the chicken, which many dislike for its dry, stringy texture.

There’s a soy sauce-cured egg with a jammy centre for extra protein and a little bit of ooze.

For spice lovers, there’s a tongue-tingling Aka Tori Paitan (RM34) with the same chicken broth but infused with a spicy heat.

Since they are still on their soft launch menu, choices are limited. However, I really wanted to try their Ebi Tsukemen (RM38), which warrants a second visit.

When you can smell the crustaceans used to create the burnished orange dipping sauce, you know it’s a winning sauce.

Nibble on this crispy-skinned Karaage with moist meat shaped in a ball. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

I would have preferred a slightly thicker consistency for the sauce to better coat the noodles but balancing that consistency for general taste is likely tricky.

With tsukemen, it’s a leisurely meal since there’s no pressure to eat the noodles quickly before they turn soggy.

Sometimes I even burn my tongue drinking down the hot broth that accompanies the ramen, which I like to do.

For the tsukemen, dip the noodles in the rich prawn broth to coat them and slowly savour the flavour of the sea.

Add a bit of the toppings too with the ramen to enhance its flavours, perhaps a bite of the juicy grilled prawn or seaweed.

Limited seats are available at the counter to watch how your ‘ramen’ is prepared. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Any extra dipping sauce can be diluted with hot water to easily make it into a drinkable soup that isn’t overly salty.

Snacks can also be ordered but few are available or not ready yet.

Never mind I say, I am happy with their Karaage (RM15), which are juicy, ball-shaped bites of fried chicken.

Wash it all down with a House Highball (RM35), a lighter mix of rice wine with citrus to cool you down and make you happy.

Fujin Ramen is so discreet you may miss it if you blink (left). Chicken motifs feature in the décor like this ‘kawaii’ rooster chopstick holder (right). — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Fujin Ramen

LG1-06-1, Steppes @ Mont Kiara,

32, Jalan Kiara 3,

Kampung Segambut Dalam, Kuala Lumpur

Open: 12pm to 3.30pm., 4.30pm to 9pm (last call is 8.30pm). Closed on Wednesdays.

Instagram: @fujin.steppes

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Looking for your ‘ikan bakar’ fix? Head to Restoran Shin Lin Kee in PJ New Town

Ethan Lau — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 08:52:33 +0800

PETALING JAYA, July 9 — As a kid, my parents often encouraged me – in their own heavy-handed way – to try a wide variety of food.

Some things were love at first sight: sambal belacan, roti bom, foie gras. Others, like abalone, baked beans, and durian... not so much.

I remember slurping down my first snail with real joy. I also remember my first oyster slinking its way down my throat. I dreaded the oyster forever after.

Naturally, I held a grudge.

But my parents had a rule they practically beat into me: your palate changes as you get older.

So keep trying, and you’ll be surprised what you end up liking.

It’s not meant to be taken literally. Physically, our taste buds change every two weeks. But changing a preference is dependent on other factors like age, lifestyle and repeated exposure to the food in question.

It can take months, sometimes even years, to get over the hump.

I grew up detesting fish, particularly whole fish — anytime bones were involved, I hated it.

Partly because I once ended up at the hospital with a bone fragment lodged in my throat, and partly because I just didn’t find fish all that interesting.

Shin Lin Kee sits on the corner of Jalan Yong Shook Lin and Jalan 52/10, just a few metres away from Menara PKNS. — Picture by Ethan Lau

At age eight, the only things I cared about were chicken nuggets and Megan Fox in Transformers.

But because I grew up in a household that mostly ate Cantonese food, I could not escape fish, steamed or fried.

Dread it. Run from it. The whole fish arrived all the same. Eventually, I came to begrudgingly accept it and even enjoy it, the way I do today.

But ikan bakar had somehow slipped past me all those years. Had I tried it sooner, I don’t think whole fish would’ve taken me nearly as long to love.

These days, I don’t have to look far to test that theory. In the heart of Petaling Jaya’s new town, there’s a restaurant that does nothing else.

For decades, regulars have returned to Restoran Shin Lin Kee for ikan bakar and buckets of ice-cold beer.

Still grilled whole in a banana leaf, Shin Lin Kee does a Chinese-style ikan bakar, where the amount of sambal rubbed onto the fish before grilling is dialled back.

Most of the flavour comes after, from a thick sambal belacan finished with lime and diced raw red onion.

It looks gnarly and has a funny name, ‘ikan ayam’ lives up to its name when grilled in this style. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Offerings span 11 different types of fish, from ikan jenahak (snapper) to ikan nyok-nyok (trevally).

I opted for ikan pari (stingray, RM38), ikan bawal emas (golden pomfret, RM48) and ikan ayam (RM58).

The latter gets its funny name from its taste and texture, which — you guessed it — is remarkably reminiscent of chicken.

The firmness of its meat means it pulls off the bone in solid chunks. Eight-year-old me would’ve loved this.

The exterior char was minimal, but the meat itself is a solid vessel for the sambal belacan to ride in on.

Those who enjoy flakier flesh and a slightly sweeter flavour will prefer the golden pomfret, which has a fine, buttery mouthfeel.

But my favourite, and what I think is the ideal fish for ikan bakar, is the stingray. The unique structure of its flesh, threading into long, firm strands, takes to grilling extremely well — it holds its shape rather than falling apart.

The best part is scraping those strands off the cartilage and dousing them in sambal belacan.

Like any dai chow, there are other dishes to round out your meal, in case grilled fish and cold beer isn’t the absolute picture of a nutritious dinner to you.

The table next to us — a large group of older gentlemen — had as many bottles of whisky open as fish ordered, and capped it all off with some basic stir-fry dishes. Hokkien mee was also a popular choice.

The unique muscle fibres in stingray make it ideal for ‘ikan bakar’ as the long, firm threads of flesh peel off the cartilage with succulent ease. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Change, as it turns out, was never really about time. It was about proximity.

I didn’t age out of my fear of whole fish, bones and all. It stopped scaring me because my parents didn’t give me a choice.

The palate doesn’t age into acceptance — it gets braver, plate after plate, until one day the fear just isn’t there anymore.

Somewhere, an eight-year-old is still holding out for chicken nuggets. He doesn’t know yet that the gnarly-looking fish eventually wins.

Restoran PJ Shin Lin Kee

1, Jalan 52/10,

Bandar Baru Petaling Jaya,

Petaling Jaya, Selangor.

Open daily, 6pm–2am

Tel: 03-7955 2249

*This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

*Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

*Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more unfiltered takes on food and wine.

Kinfolk Restaurant: Glorious house-made charcuterie, dry-aged pork chops, a unique chrysanthemum leaf salad and more in PJ Sea Park

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 08 Jul 2026 09:21:39 +0800

PETALING JAYA, July 8 -- Our table was practically groaning under the weight of all the dishes we had ordered at Kinfolk Restaurant, a two-month-old establishment opened by Ken Goh, 35 and his wife, Carmen Tham, 31.

We just couldn't help ourselves, as almost everything on their smallish menu lured us to feast the night away.

Our impressive platter of House-made Charcuterie (RM45 for one to two people, RM88 for three to four people) arrives: pink cured meats fan out like a flower, looking like it belongs in a restaurant in Italy.

The surprise is that it's in Sea Park, where you have midnight black Hokkien mee from Lao Ping down the road and right across, there's Hai Kah Lang's fortifying bowls of seafood noodles and Brunei-import 1More Pizza.

As we nibbled on the cold cuts – salami, speck, porchetta di testa – everyone at the table nodded in approval, confirming this was on par with what one can source from Italy.

This is serious skill, demonstrating Goh's determination to produce cured meats on our shores— a rarity here, where only sausages and air-dried Chinese waxed sausages (lap cheong) are commonly found.

Dry-Aged Pork Chop (left) leaves a juicy, tender impression with the house-made calamansi kosho. Chrysanthemum Leaf Salad (right) uses 'tong ho' rather than the typical Romaine lettuce. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

The triumph is the Porchetta di Testa, slow cooked rolled whole pig's head, cured from a whole pig's head with the head cheese, which transforms into a thin layer of marbled fat and meat dotted with gelatinous pockets of fat;

Dry-Aged Pork Chop (RM32 per 100 grams) is a prime example of how time – in this case 28 days – transforms the boned-in chop into a deeper, intense flavour.

All it needs is a good sear on the grill for a tender, juicy meat with a dab of the zingy, house-made calamansi kosho, which is fashioned from preserved limes.

Chrysanthemum Leaf Salad (RM26) sounded exotic until our “aha moment” revealed it’s tong ho, greens we usually find stir-fried or used in hotpots.

Crispy Pork Knuckle is a showstopper dish with that golden crispy skin and juicy meat. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Goh picked this particular green because it's an oddball compared to the commonly known cabbage or Romaine lettuce.

But wait, doesn't that usually have a slight bitter edge? We puzzled over the salad blanketed with a snow drift of finely grated Parmesan cheese, a la Caesar Salad.

Turns out the toothed leafs, when left untouched, have a mild, slightly sweet taste, which works well with their creamy dressing that combines just a touch of anchovies and cheese, making it a refreshing salad that will convert anyone who dislikes raw greens.

Crispy Pork Knuckle (RM168) is a showstopper arriving on the table in its golden glory.

It's not all about pork in the menu as the Half Roasted Ma Cao Chicken offers lovely golden skin and succulent meat. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The outer skin has a wonderful crunchy texture with juicy fall-off-the-bone meat to enjoy with a refreshing salad and their homemade hot sauce.

Smoked Char Siew Pork Ribs (RM46) arrives sliced, revealing layers of fat and meat. The fat looks glass-like with a concentrated flavour that makes each piece rich and decadent, best offset with house-made pickles.

The menu isn't entirely porcine with choices like the crispy golden skin Half Roasted Ma Cao Chicken (RM98), Perak Oysters (3 pieces for RM58) or Mussels Salai Masak Lemak (RM38). Efforts are underway to perhaps add more seafood items.

One word of advice: do not overlook their House-Made Fries (RM18) served with their own-made ketchup, it's the kind of dish you'll wish wasn't a sharing plate so you could have the entire plate to yourself.

House-Made Fries (left) are addictive, especially with their lacto-fermented jackfruit. Mussels Salai Masak Lemak (right) is one of the seafood items on the menu. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Fries perfectly done with crispy edges happily accompany their lacto-fermented jackfruit, which kicks up a tangy flavour and sweetness that almost pips the typical tomato ketchup.

Goh explained this was a surprise product, resulting from when they were given overripe jackfruit which he tried to save through fermentation.

Some dishes like their Pork Ragu Bucatini (RM42) with al dente strands tossed with their four hours slow-cooked ragu, Mapo Tofu (RM30) and Pork Burger (RM45) make a quick solo midday meal.

Sweets are a toss-up between a very unconventional Smokey Porky Cake (RM24) reminiscent of a fruit cake studded with dried fruits and nuts or everyone's favourite Soft Serve (RM12) served in trendy stainless steel coupe cups.

Ken Goh and his wife Carmen Tham are the good folks behind Kinfolk Restaurant. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Kinfolk is the culmination of a year's work for Goh and his wife who both connected at A Little Farm on the Hill.

Goh's domain is the kitchen, while Tham manages the dining space which feels like an elegant home with a welcoming vibe.

Goh grew up in Muar. As a child aged five, he fried eggs and by 13, he could cook a full meal to feed his family.

His mother played an important role in his life in Muar, cooking multiple cuisines for the family, from local kuih to pizza and even dishes from his Hokkien roots.

Applying his expertise as a chef – having trained at KDU Culinary School under Darren Teoh of Dewakan fame and Enzo Neo who runs Red Kettle – Goh is passionate about all things preserved and cured like charcuterie, using a nose-to-tail approach to ensure no part of the pig is wasted.

Goh said, “The most important ingredient is time as time gives it more depth.”

Charcuterie and huge slabs of bone-in pork chops are air-dried in a special cabinet (left). Pickles and even the ketchup are all made in-house (right). — Pictures by Choo Choy May

In culinary school, he only picked up basic butchery skills, including making sausages, bacon and pastrami, but he taught himself dry-curing using books and videos.

Tinkering in the kitchen like a modern MacGyver, he self-built a curing cabinet by watching videos and reading books.

Using a stand chiller, typically found in a kopitiam to store drinks, he added a dehumidifier, a humidifier, and a control gauge, to mimic the all-important controlled environment with a specific temperature, humidity and airflow to cure his first experiment of using half of a pig.

It's not expensive commercial equipment but ordinary items you use at home. In fact, the humidifier he uses is the same one I have at home.

Nowadays, he cures the meat in specialised chambers to remove moisture from carefully selected meats to get the best out of the produce to make his own charcuterie.

With more items up his sleeves, Goh is constantly upgrading the menu with new offerings, such as switching to the more superior Berkshire black pig, sought after for its marbling and exceptional flavour.

Kinfolk Restaurant sits in the neighbourhood of PJ Sea Park, a place where multi-generations come to dine and explore. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Kinfolk Restaurant

37, Jalan 21/12,

Sea Park, Petaling Jaya.

Open: 12pm to 3pm (Thursday to Tuesday), 6pm to 9.30pm (Friday to Tuesday). Closed on Wednesdays.

Tel:03-78652094

Reservations can be made via Umai

Instagram: @restaurantkinfolk

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Coffee, compote and community: How Giggles PJ rebuilt after a fire

Kenny Mah — Tue, 07 Jul 2026 08:43:51 +0800

PETALING JAYA, July 7 — When Giggles PJ caught fire in the early hours of May 22, owner David Yap feared years of hard work had disappeared overnight. Instead, what followed became an unexpected lesson in the strength of community.

Yap recalls, “The incident happened at about 1am, but we only found out when our staff arrived to clock in at 7am. We immediately checked our CCTV footage and saw a spark coming from one of the kitchen appliances before the power tripped.”

The blaze damaged the café’s kitchen and forced the business to shut its doors. Thankfully, no one was injured.

Yap says, “Honestly, it felt like everything we had worked so hard to build had disappeared overnight. Seeing the kitchen completely destroyed was heartbreaking, and my first thought wasn’t about the business — it was about my team, my family, and how we were going to move forward.”

Despite the shock, Yap quickly decided there was only one path forward. Giving up, he says, was never an option.

Instead, the focus shifted immediately towards rebuilding the café while finding ways to keep the business running and supporting the team through the closure.

The setback was particularly painful because Giggles was the culmination of years spent in the food and beverage industry.

Yap checking the damage after a fire destroyed his cafe's kitchen. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

Before opening the café, Yap worked with established brands including Dome Café, Sukiya and The Big Group before deciding to build something of his own with his wife after the birth of their first child.

They envisioned Giggles as a welcoming neighbourhood café where families, friends and people of all ages could gather over comforting food and good coffee — a place that lived up to its cheerful name with plenty of smiles and laughter.

Giggles had built a loyal following with its mix of local favourites and Western comfort fare, served alongside specialty coffee and traditional Hainanese kopi.

Even as repairs got underway, the bills continued to arrive and staff still needed support. But amid the uncertainty, regular customers kept asking how they could help.

Rather than waiting for renovations to finish, Giggles found other ways to stay connected with the community.

A small coffee kiosk was set up outside Giggles while renovations were ongoing. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

A small coffee kiosk was set up outside the café, while the team also began producing and selling its artisan raspberry compote — giving customers a tangible way to support the business during its recovery.

“The coffee kiosk allowed us to continue serving the neighbourhood, while the raspberry compote became something meaningful that people could take home,” Yap says.

The preserves came to represent more than just another product: “Every jar sold reminded us that people believed in our journey. It tells the story of how Giggles kept moving forward during one of the toughest periods we’ve ever faced.”

Simmering raspberries to make artisan raspberry compote. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

More than 800 jars were sold in the first week alone, with many customers returning to buy more, recommending the compote to family and friends and leaving encouraging messages.

The temporary coffee kiosk also became something more than originally envisioned. Many regulars stopped by simply to ask how the renovations were progressing or to show their support with a cup of coffee.

Another way Giggles continued to generate revenue was through catering and events.

Fortunately the café had already built this alternate revenue stream prior to the fire so it wasn’t something they had to start from scratch with.

More than 800 jars of raspberry compote were sold in the first week alone. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

For many independent cafés, community support often reveals itself slowly — in repeat visits, familiar faces and conversations across the counter.

For Giggles, those everyday gestures became an important reminder that rebuilding was not something they had to do alone.

Now, after weeks of restoration, the café is preparing to welcome customers back. Giggles will reopen on July 8 with a limited menu as operations gradually resume.

Giggles also continued to generate revenue through catering and events. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

Returning favourites include the Smokey and Spiced Chicken Chop, Slurpy Ipoh Hor Fun and Nasi Lemak Ayam Berempah, while an entirely new menu is scheduled for August.

Beyond the refreshed interior, Yap sees the reopening not simply as a return to business, but as the beginning of a new chapter for Giggles.

“We’ve taken this opportunity to improve every detail, and we can’t wait for everyone to experience the new Giggles.”

Their reopening menu will include favourites such as the Smokey and Spiced Chicken Chop (left) and Nasi Lemak Ayam Berempah (right). — Pictures courtesy of Giggles PJ

Yap says he is most grateful to the customers and community members who stood by Giggles during its most difficult weeks.

“Every coffee they bought, every jar of raspberry compote they took home, every message, every share on social media, and every word of encouragement reminded us that we weren’t facing this alone.”

Tomorrow, customers will once again walk through Giggles’ doors. Many will be familiar faces returning for their favourite coffee and comfort food.

They will be greeted by big smiles as they gather once again for simple moments that, only weeks ago, seemed uncertain.

Soon customers will be able to return to Giggles for their favourite coffee and comfort food. — Picture courtesy of Giggles PJ

Giggles PJ

19-GF Jalan SS 23/15,

Taman Sea, PJ

Reopens on Wednesday, July 8. Thereafter, open daily 8am-10pm.

Phone: 012-3603131

IG: https://www.instagram.com/giggles.pj/

For more tales from the table and beyond, visit lifeforbeginners.com.

Guangzhou-based Yuen Kee Dumpling lands in Sri Petaling with freshly wrapped Cantonese-style dumplings

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 06 Jul 2026 09:04:04 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 6 — Small in size but big in flavour, dumplings stuffed with all kinds of fillings are what you get at Yuen Kee Dumpling in the forever busy Sri Petaling area.

Like food theatre, the dumplings are made right in front of your eyes, making them super fresh.

In China where it started out, the restaurant is favored by diners for offering a convenient way to satisfy their dumpling cravings, as it is found all over the cities.

A meal with springy egg noodles and dumplings can be ordered with broth or tossed in your choice of sauces.

Pair the springy egg noodles with their seafood broth and shrimp pork dumplings. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The noodles can be ordered with their Cantonese seafood broth or tossed with their popular peanut sauce and chilli oil.

The milky broth is a game changer for the dumplings as the skin becomes smooth and slippery.

Pan frying the dumplings, however, results in a chewier bite.

Even the broth is very drinkable, featuring a hint of dried flounder fish that enhances its savoriness without being overpowering.

Chilli oil and peanut sauce tossed with dry noodles is a bestseller alongside their dumplings. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The dry noodles embraced with chilli oil and given a touch of creaminess from peanut sauce, are exceptional.

On its own, the chilli oil is aromatic from the spices used rather than a one dimensional sauce that only engulfs you with burning heat.

My personal experience with chilli oil is complicated; I seek the aromatic flavours but the spiciness makes me think twice before ordering it

Balancing the chilli oil, a small trace of creamy peanut sauce adds another layer of toasted peanuts to the sauce.

Cold starters (left) like Crunchy Spicy Cold Black Fungus can be relished pre-meal. Pan-fried Chives & Pork Dumplings (right) have chewier skins. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

No wonder their sauce is viral; it’s a flavour you keep wanting more of.

This variation of the noodles tends to be rather dry with strands that clump together, requiring more force to pull apart.

What I do is add a bit more chili oil from the condiments counter, coating the thin strands with a little more oil.

Customise your experience with the sauces and even crunchy pickles from the counter.

Shepherd’s Purse & Pork Dumplings are dressed with creamy peanut sauce and aromatic chilli oil, served over a base of crunchy bean sprouts. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

My favourite is combining the chilli oil with chopped spring onions and vinegar in the shallow bowls to create a dipping sauce for my dumplings and even the noodles.

Try it. Perhaps you will get hooked on it just like me.

The dumplings feature a minced pork base combined with add-ons like tiny crunchy prawns, vegetables, onion, dragon chives, chives, shepherd’s purse and even corn.

They are made in small batches and you can also buy them uncooked by the weight for home use.

With flavour combinations featuring only shrimp and vegetables, the pork tends to have a slightly firmer texture.

Diners can place orders at the counter or via the QR code. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

For a juicier dumpling, try the shepherd’s purse version with greens, which has a mild pepper flavour.

There are also wontons (10 pieces and 12 pieces) and shu mai with salted egg yolk and pork or corn and pork flavours on the menu.

The outlet seems understaffed; one time, they had to stop serving the siu mai because they had fewer hands available to fold the dim sum.

Shrimp, Vegetables & Pork Dumplings Noodles is RM14.90 with six pieces while the Pan-Fried Chives & Pork Dumplings (six pieces) is RM10.90, and Shepherd’s Purse & Pork Dumplings (10 pieces) is RM16.90.

It’s their first foray into Malaysia landing at Sri Petaling with another one coming up next at Kota Kemuning. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Yuen Kee Dumpling

51, Jalan Radin Bagus,

Bandar Baru Sri Petaling, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily: 10am to 10pm

Tel: 011-10657821

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Wawafish: A Guizhou-flavoured gem in KL's Petaling Street

Ethan Lau — Sun, 05 Jul 2026 09:20:15 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 5 — Petaling Street has no shortage of “vibey” bars and restaurants, where tourists come in droves and atmosphere, aesthetic and alcohol tend to take precedence over culinary excellence.

Collectively, these outlets engineer the feeling — no matter how fleeting — that you, too, belong to the trendy, hip crowd, provided you can get with the vibe.

But that doesn’t mean there’s no good eating to be done around these parts.

'Unassuming' is probably not the first word that comes to mind when describing a bar on Petaling Street, but Wawafish’s tiny sign means it doesn’t quite 'stand out' either.

Street food remains a dependable option in some pockets, but every so often, some genuinely good food hides in plain sight among the bars, waiting for the nights you find yourself enticed by a colourful cocktail, or more likely, peer pressure.

At first glance, Wawafish looks indistinguishable from any other dimly-lit bar along the street.

But putting its tiny sign, eclectic interior design and Indonesian psychedelic rock playlist aside, it offers some of the most unique bar bites anywhere on that road.

The owner and his wife hail from China, and the menu revolves around Guizhou cuisine and its distinctly sour-spicy flavour profile — a region best known for being the birthplace of baijiu, specifically Maotai, one of the most expensive types of baijiu; the home of Zunyi, China’s capital of chillies; and the birthplace of Lao Gan Ma chilli oil.

Red sour soup, a classic Guizhou dish, served with rice noodles and topped with beef.

That reputation for heat might bring to mind images of fiery spice and the sweaty stupor that follows, but Guizhou cuisine is really about sour, and using chilli to balance it out.

Emblematic of this is red sour soup, made with fermented tomatoes and chillies and traditionally served with rice noodles.

It’s a dish with roots in the Miao, an umbrella term for several non-Han ethnic minority groups for whom Guizhou is home to some of the largest communities in China.

At Wawafish, the red sour soup rice noodles come topped with beef (RM25), chicken (RM24) or vegetables (RM17).

An intensely addictive portion of cabbage fried with fermented chillies.

The broth has a refreshing hint of spice and the distinct tang of tomatoes, but the fermentation process has mellowed out the tartness one might associate with fresh tomatoes.

It’s great for opening up the palate, though I don’t recommend ordering it until you’re ready to end the night.

For one, slurping down soup and noodles doesn’t quite go with any of the drinks on offer at Wawafish, who are proud of their house-made “drip wines”, which are really just batch-made clarified cocktails sold by the bottle with a clever name.

And if you’re unfortunate enough to be seated at a low table with chairs too high for it, as I was, you’ll spend the entire time hunched over like Quasimodo — if he ate Guizhou sour and spicy noodles.

For something far lighter and not quite as tangy, rice noodles with lu shui broth are also offered, with the same three toppings.

Lu shui, or master stock, is found all over China, though most Malaysians will know it best from Teochew cuisine, in braised duck or pork made with a variant of the stock.

Mountain-style chilli beef uses the ‘ciba la jiao’ paste, one of Guizhou’s staple ways of preparing chillies.

Lu shui fen, or just lu fen, is a Guizhou speciality.

It’s a simple combination of rice noodles and a stock fortified with spices like star anise and cinnamon, though the Guizhou version tends to be much lighter than the Teochew style we’re accustomed to here.

The best bites at Wawafish come from the Guizhou snacks section of the menu, and they all go swimmingly with an ice-cold beer — which, thankfully, Wawafish also sells.

The fermented chilli fried cabbage (RM20) is incredibly addictive, the spice and acidity hacking your brain into releasing bouts of dopamine after every piece of crisp cabbage.

The Guizhou traditional chilli chicken (RM32) makes use of one of three main ways Guizhou treats chilli: ciba la jiao, which roughly translates to “sticky-rice chilli paste.”

No glutinous rice is actually used, but the chillies are pounded into a paste thick enough to warrant the comparison, and it’s an essential ingredient in Guizhou-style la zi ji.

The Sichuan variant is the best-known version of this dish, where finding the crispy popcorn bits of chicken amid a mountain of dry-roasted chillies is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Guizhou’s version is wet, thanks to the ciba la jiao, and Wawafish’s rendition carries a great deal of savoury depth and aroma instead of the numbing sensation you get from the Sichuan style.

Rather than crispy popcorn chicken, it features moist, tender pieces of chicken, with a few cubes of konjac jelly thrown in for added texture.

The same ciba la jiao paste turns up again in the mountain-style chilli beef (RM35), rounded out with a generous handful of coriander to cut through the chilli-laden depth.

The fried drummettes are covered with a mystery powder that keeps you going back in for more .

But no bar food can be taken seriously without considering fried chicken wings, and Wawafish’s spiced drumettes (RM22) are simply awesome.

Fried to crispy, juicy perfection, each drumette is dusted with a delicious mystery powder — the flavour is slightly reminiscent of the proprietary seasoning often used for shao kao (grilled skewers), though with a lot less cumin.

Craving something sweet after all that chilli?

The taro sticky rice dumplings (RM12) are one of the few options, and they’re surprisingly crispy on the outside, dusted with what looks, smells and tastes a lot like kinako, toasted soybean powder.

Think of it as a much, much less refined version of warabi mochi.

It would be easy to write Wawafish off as just another stop on the Petaling Street bar crawl, propped up by mood lighting and a funky playlist.

But that’s precisely what makes it worth pointing out: the food doesn’t need any of that to hold up.

Long after the “drip wines” are forgotten, it’s the ciba la jiao with chicken and the fermented chilli cabbage that left a lasting impression.

Wawafish

137, Jalan Petaling,

Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily, 11am-2am. Open till 3am on Friday and Saturday.

Tel: 010-899 6213

Instagram: @wawafishkl

This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

*Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

*Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Looking for Penang on a plate? This Kajang ‘char kway teow’ stall brings the ‘wok hei’ — and the wanderlust

Kenny Mah — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 09:37:23 +0800

KAJANG, July 4 — The first thing I noticed was not the wok hei.

There was plenty of that, certainly: the fire-kissed edge that clings to flat rice noodles after a brief, violent encounter with a hot wok.

Maybe it was the sweetness of the prawns or the crunch of bean sprouts? Lovely, but not these either.

It was the name of the stall.

Located inside Restoran Double Six in Bandar Teknologi Kajang, the stall is called Penang Lang Char Kuey Teow. That is as bold a declaration as one can make in the food business.

The stall is located inside Restoran Double Six in Bandar Teknologi Kajang. — Picture by CK Lim

Penang Lang – Penang person, in Hokkien – is not merely branding. It is a claim.

It says: the hands that wield this wok knows what they are doing. They carry years of toiling over a hot stove. They carry the knowledge of a place renowned for its street food.

Specifically Penang char kway teow.

Before I even had a taste, I was suitably impressed. Bravado is worth applauding these days when everyone seems to try to please everyone else. (Never forget Aesop’s fable of the farmer, his son and their donkey.)

Certainly enough people have been equally won over; many customers in the kopitiam also ordered char kway teow.

Bombast aside, I couldn’t help but wonder: What happens when a dish from Penang is transplanted hundreds of kilometres from home?

Does it taste like the original (though the definition of that particular taste may vary greatly). Or does it taste like something else entirely?

Customers inside the ‘kopitiam’. — Picture by CK Lim

Funnily enough, our first hint of how flavours travel came not from Penang (as you might imagine, given the direction of my ramblings thus far) but from Hong Kong.

Instead of our regular cups of cham, we ordered teh today. The milk tea looked ordinary enough when it arrived at the table.

Yet – rather than the lighter, sweeter profile common to many kopitiam drinks – the first sip revealed a more assertive tea flavour and a creamier body. It called to mind nai cha, the milk tea of Hong Kong cha chaan tengs, with its stronger tannic backbone and richer texture.

Maybe this resemblance, this happy coincidence, is all in my mind. (It often is.)

Still, how very appropriate, no?

For regional foods rarely remain fixed in one place, no matter how various tourism boards might proclaim otherwise.

(Perhaps, as we often observe, nearly always in spite of their best efforts.)

Recipes travel with cooks. Techniques migrate with communities. Flavours cross borders, settle into new surroundings and gradually adapt.

Call it culinary wanderlust.

Milky tea that reminded us of Hong Kong style ‘nai cha’. — Picture by CK Lim

So when our plates of char kway teow arrived at our table, we were in full detective mode: Does this taste authentic?

(Though part of me greatly loathes the word “authentic” — what does it even mean any more?)

The noodles were supple, absorbing enough seasoning without clumping. Every strand remained distinct from one another. Every forkful blessed by the wok’s heat, infused with pleasantly scorched notes.

The prawns were a decent size, not too small or large. Still plump and naturally sweet. The waxy bite of Chinese sausages, sliced on a bias. Bean sprouts provided crispness, a touch of chilli paste some welcome spice. Seehum for one of us; the other begged off.

No idea if this was authentic but it tasted fantastic.

Don’t blame us for our lack of a definitive answer. Authenticity, after all, is an unreliable measurement.

Every diner carries a different memory of Penang. Some remember charcoal-fired woks. Others remember particular hawkers, specific neighbourhoods or late-night suppers by the roadside.

The “real” version, I would wager, exists less on the plate than in the mind.

Plump prawns and crunchy bean sprouts. — Picture by CK Lim

As if to compound our confusion further, midway through the meal, I remembered the fried eggs.

Or rather, I remembered that I had forgotten to order one for each plate.

Ordinarily, I would not consider char kway teow complete without a fried egg perched on top, its yolk waiting to spill across the noodles.

On the bright side, my careless omission became part of the meal’s meaning. Helped to answer the unanswerable question, after a fashion.

Can a Penang dish truly arrive intact after travelling so far from home?

Perhaps not.

Something is always lost. A particular ingredient. A familiar setting. The memory attached to a place. Even the most faithful recreation cannot transport an entire city onto a plate.

Yet perhaps complete replication was never the point.

The ‘char kway teow’ here is well-made and well-seasoned. — Picture by CK Lim

The char. The salt. The prawns. The noodles, neither too soft nor chewy. The chilli, fiery in the way only we Malaysians can appreciate. The bean sprouts, sweet and crunchy.

What I cannot tell you is whether char kway teow in Penang would have tasted this way, because Penang – my idea of Penang, the one built from scattered meals at various times in my life – is also partly a construction.

A memory reshaped by distance and desire until I can no longer separate it from my longing for that idealised plate. Not fully, anyway.

What I can tell you is this: the char kway teow here is well-made and well-seasoned. Made by someone who clearly knew the difference between a dish done correctly and a dish merely done satisfactorily. A true Penang lang.

You might ask whether I was transported to Penang.

Not entirely. No plate outside the Pearl of the Orient could, not fully.

Kajang remained Kajang. Penang remained Penang.

Yet somewhere between the smoky noodles, the sweetness of the prawns, the crunch of bean sprouts and those forgotten fried eggs, the distance between them seemed smaller than the map might suggest.

No, I am not transported to Penang. But somewhere between these bites, Penang comes briefly, imperfectly, deliciously, to me.

And that is authentic enough for me.

Penang Lang Char Kuey Teow

(Inside Restoran Double Six)

68 & 70, Jalan 1/2,

Bandar Teknologi Kajang,

Selangor.

Open daily 8am-2pm

Phone: 016-622 4796

For more tales of wok hei and wanderlust, visit lifeforbeginners.com.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Bacio, Mont Kiara: ‘Vitello tonnato’, ‘spaghetti aglio e olio’ and a lesson in true Italian hospitality

Ethan Lau — Fri, 03 Jul 2026 09:53:54 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 3 — Italian restaurants, by virtue of the cuisine’s unceasing universal appeal, are a dime a dozen in Kuala Lumpur. But the actual variety of dishes on offer remains limited to the specific brand of Italian cooking that’s proved popular with Malaysians: safe, uninspired pasta and pizza.

And although we have finally started coming around to Neapolitan pizza in the last few years, our reluctance as diners to expand our palates beyond what our TikTok and Instagram algorithms tell us means most restaurants have to stick to what is tried and tested.

So how does one stand out from the rest?

Some try in ways that don’t quite work. They might chase trends and shoehorn pistachios into a dish — yes, it’s a current trend, slathered on anything from nasi lemak to ayam gepuk. Although, in fairness, it would actually be pretty suitable for an Italian restaurant.

Others rely on striking interior design, and when all else fails, plaster their Italian chef/owner all over their marketing.

To many of us Malaysians, nationality trumps actual cooking experience — and we love taking the Eurocentric approach.

We’ll flatter a European face the way a starved-for-attention child performs for a negligent parent, hoping this time it’ll be enough.

Hulking plate aside, the ‘fritto di mare’ is one of the better versions in this city. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Truth be told, at first glance, I thought Bacio Italian Kitchen in Mont Kiara was exactly this type of restaurant.

It is set in the half-completed B.LOT development, its white, curved walls and windows evocative of the famous trulli from the southern Italian region of Puglia.

It’s the newest addition to the Portofino group, which began as a single restaurant in Lucky Garden, Bangsar in 2014 and has since grown to include two concepts in Bangsar South, and, as of September 2025, Bacio.

The menu did little to dispel my initial scepticism; aside from a few encouraging signs like vitello tonnato and an interesting-sounding spin on spaghetti aglio e olio, the rest of the pages were filled with the usual suspects: burrata, steak, tiramisu.

I prepared myself mentally for a competent, if slightly pedestrian, meal.

Then the fritto di mare (RM52) arrived, and it was everything you’d want it to be: light, crispy and exceptionally well-seasoned, with baby shrimp that were especially sweet.

‘Vitello tonnato’ is Piedmont’s answer to the heat of summer. Why isn’t it found here more often? — Picture by Ethan Lau

It’s served on a comically large plate that makes the portion look miniscule, but it’s a promising start.

Vitello tonnato (RM48), a dish of Piedmontese origin, is one I think should be on far more menus than it is here. This cold antipasto of thinly-sliced roasted veal covered in a creamy tuna-flavoured sauce is ideal for our tropical climate; in Piedmont, it’s especially common in summer.

The soft, almost milky flavour of the veal adds to the lightness of the dish, a quality often lost when pork is used in place of the pricier meat.

Bacio, being a pork-free restaurant, has opted for the more traditional veal anyway.

The most compelling dish of the night was, ironically, a twist on one of the most replicated pasta dishes of all time: spaghetti aglio e olio.

Bacio’s ‘cotoletta di pollo’ is a well-executed, if slightly unmemorable chicken cutlet. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Rather than a poorly integrated pile of overcooked noodles swimming in oil, Bacio’s spaghetti alla chitarra aglio olio e peperoncino (RM44) is true to technique yet creative.

Cooked to a perfect al dente, the pasta has a slightly rougher texture from the chitarra method — rolled dough pressed through a wooden tool strung with metal wires, yielding a firmer bite — which allows the emulsification of oil and pasta water to cling to it better.

This is taken one step further by the incorporation of cheese. Cheese isn’t typically added to this preparation, but it is here in the form of a fondue made from 24-month-aged Parmigiano Reggiano, which coats the noodles better than grated cheese ever could.

To ensure it isn’t an overly indulgent affair, cili padi and habaneros are used as the peperoncino for added kick. It is, without question, the highlight of the night.

The secondi should have gone by without incident, except for one that ended up dominating my experience on the night. It wasn’t the cotoletta di pollo (RM58) that stuck with me, though it was well-seasoned, expertly fried and overwhelmingly juicy — like, squirting-in-my-mouth level of juicy. I strongly believe the chicken is brined.

Rather, it was the filetto di dentice (RM72), a charcoal-grilled red snapper fillet, which arrived seemingly without any salt — anywhere at all.

A simple snapper dish became the platform for a story of redemption during my dinner at Bacio. — Picture by Ethan Lau

I wasn’t sure if my palate had lost it at first. The fish was perfectly cooked: moist flesh, immaculate skin, and yet, a taste of distinctly… nothing.

Well, not nothing. Bland, completely tasteless, like someone hadn’t just forgotten to put salt, but actively prevented the fish from even glancing at a tub of salt.

A taste of the lemon sauce proved my palate was still working (sour!), so I asked for salt, but it wasn’t enough.

I have never sent a dish back to the kitchen while reviewing a restaurant before, but two things convinced me to do so this time. First, every dish prior to this had been impeccably seasoned, which told me this wasn’t a case of underseasoning by design — in the heat of a fully seated service, some poor commis had probably genuinely forgotten the salt.

Second, mistakes happen all the time. People aren’t robots, and they should be given the opportunity to fix them, so I sent it back rather than stay silent and write a less-than-glowing review.

The waiter was sympathetic to our plight, immediately offered to replace it, and whisked it away, returning with a new plate a short while later.

The difference was night and day. In fact, the salt had improved the texture of the flesh, and even brought out a slight sweetness in the snapper.

Make sure to leave room for dessert and try the ‘pannacotta’. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The chef came to check on things, which wasn’t necessary at all, but was appreciated nonetheless.

It was a remarkable display of the fundamental tenets of hospitality — I may have sent a dish back, but as a customer, I now walk away with a glowing account of the restaurant and the team.

This shouldn’t even bear mentioning, but the moral of the story here isn’t to send back any and all dishes that aren’t to your liking. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with it.

After that, I found a second stomach for dessert, which the pannacotta (RM26) more than satisfied.

Silky, rich and creamy, it arrived with a classic strawberry sauce and shards of meringue for crunch — a clean, bright note to close out a meal that had, by then, earned its indulgence.

The front of the restaurant, designed to resemble the architecture of the buildings in Puglia, southern Italy. — Picture by Ethan Lau

A meal at Bacio probably isn’t going to evoke Botticelli or The Divine Comedy, but if you’re looking for a pretty place to woo a pretty date over plates of pasta, this is it.

The prices run about what’s expected in Mont Kiara, and you might have to deal with every other table in the restaurant also being there on a date that night, but the excellent service can go some way in making it hurt a little less.

If you’re lucky enough, there might be un bacione (a kiss) at the end of the night.

Bacio Italian Kitchen

B.LOT Mont Kiara,

Block B, Kiosk 5,

Lot 1908, Jalan Kiara 5,

Mont Kiara, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily, 11am-3.30pm, 5.30-11pm

Tel: 010-399 7008

https://www.portofino.my/bacio

Instagram: @bacio.my

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Yarl: The taste of Jaffna, without the costume

Che Ran — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 19:52:28 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, July 2 — There are cuisines that travel neatly. They lose a little heat, gain a little polish, become easier to explain.

Jaffna food is not one of them.

At Sri Lanka’s northern tip, where the land is dry, the sea is close and the palmyrah trees seem to hold up the sky, food has always carried its own accent.

It is briny, muscular and unapologetically specific: crab stained red with roasted chilli, sharp sambols, dried fish, tamarind, black pepper, fenugreek, smoky curries and bowls of kool thickened with odiyal flour.

A recent trip back to Jaffna reminded me that the best meals are rarely announced with fanfare. They arrive in seaside homes, roadside stalls and small kitchens where nobody has bothered to translate the menu for you. I had magnificent kool—seafood, vegetables, smoke and sea in a bowl. I ate crab curry with my hands. I tasted dishes that were neither generic “Sri Lankan” nor vague “Ceylonese,” but unmistakably of the north.

A hearty Jaffna lunch spread.

That distinction matters.

Too many restaurants borrow the word Ceylonese, reach for a packet of Baba’s curry powder, give dishes borrowed Malay or South Indian names, and hope nobody notices. But Jaffna food has a grammar of its own. It is not a theme. It is not a red curry with a palm tree printed beside it.

Some call themselves Ceylonese because it sounds romantic on a signboard, yet there is not a single Sri Lankan in the kitchen, not a spice from the island in the storeroom, and not a recipe that could survive a conversation with a Jaffna grandmother. They sell a souvenir version of a country they have never bothered to know. It is food dressed up in borrowed clothes: safe, generic and completely disconnected from the land whose name it trades on.

This is where Yarl comes in.

Odiyal kool one of northern Sri Lanka's most distinctive comfort dishes.

Yarl began in 2009 as a humble Brickfields stall, created by Theepan and fellow Jaffna refugees who had fled Sri Lanka’s civil conflict. They arrived carrying little more than memories, recipes and the stubborn need to keep a piece of home alive. The restaurant became a refuge, a livelihood and a small piece of Jaffna in Kuala Lumpur.

When Theepan was resettled in New Zealand in 2018, he entrusted Yarl to Cinnamon Group. The food was preserved, the restaurants were refreshed, and the team was supported through proper pathways to rebuild their lives with greater dignity. Many of the original people remain. They are not simply cooks executing a concept. They are Jaffna people cooking the food they grew up eating.

Vilu kilangu, a seasonal Jaffna delicacy.

That is why Yarl feels different.

The chefs are from Jaffna. The spices come from Jaffna, then are roasted and ground here. Speak to the staff and listen to the unmistakable rhythm of Yarlpanam Tamil. Ask where they are from: Point Pedro, Karainagar, Nelliady, Mullaitivu, Jaffna town. Their stories are not a gimmick; they are part of what is on the table.

Order the Odiyal Kool and do not expect it to behave like a polite soup. It is thick, dark, coastal and deeply comforting. Have the crab curry. Eat appam while the edges are crisp and lacy and the middle soft enough to cradle a spoonful of sauce. Go for idiyappam, puttu, thosai, sambols, varai, poriyal, peratal and sodhi. Ask questions. Let the team guide you.

A classic thosai spread.

The photographs on Yarl’s walls, taken in Jaffna, are more than decoration. They are reminders that every dish began somewhere real: in a fishing village, a family kitchen, a market, a road lined with palmyrah.

Yarl is not trying to make Jaffna food fashionable.

It is trying to keep it true.

And in a city full of imitation, that may be the rarest thing on the menu.

Yarl Brickfields

50, Jalan Padang Belia, Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur

Yarl TTDI

46, Jalan Tun Mohd Fuad 1, TTDI, Kuala Lumpur

At Ming Jii Restaurant in Skudai, ‘chee cheong fun’ travels from Hong Kong to Teluk Intan

Kenny Mah — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 09:00:34 +0800

SKUDAI (Johor), July 2 — There is something about the pairing of chee cheong fun and yong tau foo that simply works.

The former all silk and slipperiness, doused in savoury sauce; the latter a smörgåsbord of choices to be made, each morsel a menagerie of textures and tastes.

Together, they are a conversation in motion: soft yielding to firm, blandness followed by a burst of fuller flavours. This is one meal you don’t rush through, not when every bite is a fresh discovery.

Part of the appeal begins long before the first mouthful. Across Malaysia, from seaside to suburbs, different restaurants offer their own interpretation of this match made in heaven.

Of course, no two shops quite agree on how it should be done.

Some rely on the convenience of pre-made rolls; others insist on cooking to order. Some use fish paste solely; others extolled the merits of a fish-and-pork blend.

Whichever combination you support, I believe we can all agree that much of the pleasure lies in the search.

On a recent trip to Johor Bahru, I met up with a local friend, someone whose food recommendations come not from social media trends but from years of returning to the same tables.

So when he suggested a place for both chee cheong fun and yong tau foo, you bet that caught my attention.

We had driven out to Taman Ungku Tun Aminah in Skudai, a distance away from central Johor Bahru. The neighbourhood remained humming with activity even as the afternoon approached, long past a reasonable lunch hour.

There had been talk of durian fritters earlier. A famous stall, he said, the kind you recognise not by its sign but by the queue curling into the street.

Given how the afternoon heat bore down on us relentlessly, standing in line felt like unwelcome bravado. Perhaps an air-condiitoned eatery instead, I asked, seated at a table with cold drinks?

To his credit, my friend didn’t hesitate. He knows, he said, exactly where we should go.

Ming Jii Restaurant is located in Taman Ungku Tun Aminah, Skudai. — Picture by CK Lim

Ming Jii Restaurant. For chee cheong fun and yong tau foo.

As we approached the shop, I evaluated the situation: popular enough but without an oppressive queue outside, thankfully. Perfect.

Inside Ming Jii, the first thing that catches the eye is the front station, where trays of yong tau foo are laid out like an invitation. Tofu, chillies, eggplant, okra. each filled with a bouncy mixture of fish paste and minced pork.

This is the sort of display — so many choices, so little time! — that invites indecision.

Fortunately, the protocol here offers us a respite: secure a table first, then order the food. (Our minds are fickle but our bellies are famished.)

Iced ‘liong cha’ to combat the heat. — Picture by CK Lim

Drinks arrive first. Not coffee (for once!) but iced liong cha instead, to combat the heat.

The herbal tea is dark, edged with bitterness but still refreshing. In this weather, the mugs are sweating gently; the cold brew within, restorative.

Hong Kong-style ‘chee cheong fun’. — Picture by CK Lim

The kong sik or Hong Kong-style chee cheong fun is made to order, as it should be. The rice sheets are thin, folded while still warm, layered gently onto the plate. Translucent, coated in a light, savoury sauce.

Shrimp and char siu within: the former brings a mild sweetness; the latter, a touch of caramelised depth. A scatter of sesame seeds adds a delicate nuttiness.

Anson-style ‘chee cheong fun’. — Picture by CK Lim

Our second plate hails from Teluk Intan. This Anson-style chee cheong fun carries more structure; the rice noodles hold their shape, offering a slight elasticity with each bite.

Unlike typical wet versions, this rendition is served dry, filled with chopped dried shrimp and sengkuang (jicama, also known as sweet turnips). Fried shallots visible just beneath the surface, savoury and aromatic.

You must have this with pickled green chillies, my friend insists. Never sweet sauce or chilli sauce.

To complete our meal, we share a platter of yong tau foo slathered with Ming Jii’s signature curry. (The same curry is served with the standard Ipoh-style chee cheong fun, along with pork rind; the sweet red sauce is also available.)

An ordinary offering, some might say, but its appeal lay in unpredictability. Your chopsticks reached in without quite guaranteeing what they would retrieve; each piece a small surprise.

Assorted ‘yong tau foo’ in curry. — Picture by CK Lim

A wedge of eggplant, soft to the point of collapse. A firmer block of tofu, soaking up some of the curry while maintaining its integrity.

Eating it became a kind of exploration. We continue to excavate, uncovering treasures beneath the well-spiced gravy.

Indeed the curry tied everything together, allowing each piece of yong tau foo to tell a different story while lending warmth and continuity to the narrative of the dish.

A humble tale, as it turns out, at least in the case of the rice rolls: where we travel from Hong Kong to Teluk Intan, only to find ourselves back in Skudai again, sharing a good meal with a good friend.

Ming Jii Restaurant 皇后金宝猪肠粉

176, Jalan Pahlawan 2,

Taman Ungku Tun Aminah,

Skudai, Johor.

Open daily (except Mon closed) 6:30am-4pm

Phone: 018-794 9886

* For more tales from the table and beyond, visit lifeforbeginners.com.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Savour superb Foshan specialties like roast goose, hand-torn chicken, crispy roast pork and Cantonese roast duck at newcomer Foshan Roast House in Damansara Perdana

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 01 Jul 2026 08:53:37 +0800

PETALING JAYA, July 1 — The influx of Chinese eateries to our shores has led to an abundance of specialty restaurants, allowing us to pick and choose our preferences.

Roast meats or siu mei, are considered a hallmark of Cantonese cuisine but so far, execution often falters, especially when the transfer of knowledge from a master to local chefs produces less than stellar results.

Foshan Roast House is the latest newcomer to Damansara Perdana, promising authentic Foshan roasted meats.

Opened less than a month ago, few people have noticed it because it is well hidden, away from the area’s main thoroughfare.

Hand-torn Chicken is a Foshan specialty where poached chicken with exceptionally crunchy skin is shredded and tossed with chopped garlic and sesame seeds.

A lower volume of diners has meant practical measures like roasting the meats in small batches to keep them fresh.

Two visits later, the food impresses at all levels, driven solely by their master from Foshan who skillfully handles the meats.

Once hard to find here, roast goose has become almost a mainstay for roast meat shops. Rather than using any bird from China, this place brings in only geese from Foshan.

It’s a bigger size too, where even the lower quarter looks more like a half bird portion.

Crispy Roast Pork isn't your usual 'siew yoke' offering with an all round crunchy layer and a light, airy top akin to prawn crackers.

Their practice is to not trim the excess fat under the skin, unless requested.

This is because one customer was upset when his goose hit the table without fat, so they left it there.

If one can manage the fatty layer in roast pork, the same principle applies here: fat is where the flavour is and once you bite into a piece, that creamy fat under the crispy skin will just melt on your tongue like butter.

However, if fat makes you queasy, opt for the upper quarter, which has less fat and ask that the excess fat be trimmed.

As the cavity of the goose is stuffed with salt, sugar, Chinese wine, spices, ginger and spring onions, and sewn tight for the roasting process, once you break that seal, all the juices are released over the goose, adding a layer of richness to the whole bird.

Combination platters are a great way to sample a bit of everything like the Crispy Roast Pork, Honey BBQ Pork and Cantonese Roast Duck.

A whole Roast Goose is RM328; a half portion is RM168, the upper quarter is RM78 and the lower quarter is RM88.

If you don’t mind which part of the bird you receive, there’s a Roast Goose Rice for RM28, where the part of the roast goose will be decided for you.

A popular choice for many seems to be their Cantonese Roast Duck, which offers soft, finely textured meat topped with luscious skin.

Priced from RM28 for a quarter to RM88 for a whole duck, the Cantonese Roast Duck is significantly more economical than Roast Goose.

Cantonese Roast Duck (left) is a popular choice for diners due to its tender meat. Roast Goose (right) is served here without trimming the excess fat which melts like butter in the mouth.

It can also be ordered as Roast Duck Rice for RM15.

Chicken often gets side-lined for the other birds but don’t make that mistake here as the Hand-torn Chicken, a Foshan specialty, is a dish you shouldn’t pass over.

Shredding chicken for a meal sounds ordinary but combine it with aromatics like chopped raw garlic and perhaps a trace of tingly chilli powder to transform it into a superpower.

Tangy. Punchy. Crunchy skin on the poached chicken... this dish continues to deliver big flavours, even when I packed it home to eat cold from the refrigerator.

A whole Hand-Torn Chicken is RM68, a half portion is RM35 and the solo eaters can order the Hand-torn Chicken with rice for RM15. However, this dish is labelled as Shredded Chicken on their menu.

Because the restaurant is new, they prefer to roast the meats in small batches to keep them fresh.

A friend who lives nearby highly recommended the Crispy Roast Pork.

Unlike conventional siew yoke, which only has crispy crackling on top, this version’s crispy crust surrounds the entire strip of pork belly, creating a 360-degree crunchy experience.

It’s beautifully fried to a golden puffiness, especially the top part where the skin is light, airy, and has a delicate crunch that dissolves in the mouth similar to a prawn cracker.

Because deep-frying the whole strip might result in uneven cooking, some pieces may have a harder crunch that echoes as you eat them. Overall, most pieces have a light, crunchy texture.

This version sprinkles sesame seeds over the crust, layering it with another flavour.

Dining in is pleasant in a clean environment.

Coarse sugar is also served on the side or sprinkled on some parts, adding just a touch of sweetness and crunch.

Crispy Roast Pork can be ordered in a half portion for RM35 (serving one to two people) or a regular portion for RM68 (serving three to four people).

It’s not available as a pairing with rice but you can order a smaller portion with their combination meats platter instead.

These platters, offering a choice of two or three different meats, start from RM16 per serving and are RM23 for the triple choice.

Roast goose can also be ordered via the combination platters at a higher price: RM29 for a double combination and RM33 for a triple combination.

Honey BBQ Pork or Char Siu differs from what we typically get in stalls because the cut of meat is leaner, resulting in a less luscious bite.

Pending approval for their official signboard, look for their temporary banner and the huge roast goose in front of the restaurant that is located opposite Perdana Emerald condominium.

There’s also Crispy Roast Chicken, which I didn’t try.

Don’t miss out on their cold drinks selection too, which is just as good as the drinks from other Chinese brands found in the malls.

The menu may say it uses lemon but it turns out to be limes that are freshly pressed for the juice.

Pandan Lemon Tea (RM9) features a strong pandan flavour balanced by refreshing lime juice, resulting in a more refreshing drink than one predominantly brewed with tea.

As they’re relatively new, their days off are still not fixed.

You can also order roast meats via WhatsApp for self-arranged pickup or delivery, as they aren’t listed on any food delivery platform.

Foshan Roast House

D19-G-8A, Jalan PJU 8/3A,

Perdana Business Center,

Damansara Perdana, Petaling Jaya.

Open daily: 11am to 8pm.

Tel: 013-4506123 (WhatsApp for orders)

Facebook: @Foshan_Roast_House

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

From sourdough pancakes to blueberry burgers: How fried chicken took over our brunch at House of Wheat, Cheras

Kenny Mah — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 09:04:02 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 30 — Some brunches begin with hunger. This one began with catching up.

The first cups arrived before the menus had been properly studied. A flat white pulled from Rwanda beans. A pour-over of Kenya AA from Kopenhagen Coffee Roaster.

Conversation filled the gaps between each appearance of our coffees: updates on our lives, juicy gossip, meandering stories interrupted and resumed or never quite finished.

Pour-over coffee (left). Flat white (right) — Pictures by CK Lim

This is how the four of us catch up, a double date of sorts. It’s a pattern.

Only later did we realise what we ordered from the menu provided a different sort of pattern altogether. One that reveals itself gradually, then suddenly seems impossible to ignore.

The first clue was the Chicken Pancake Paradise.

The name arrives before the plate does, sounding less like a dish than a destination. When it appeared, it brought together crispy chicken, sourdough pancakes and an amaranth-infused maple syrup that settled into the folds of the stack.

Pancakes belong to breakfast, you say. We agree.

Fried chicken, on the other hand, belongs almost everywhere else. Good for brunch, which is the meal our quartet had at House of Wheat, located on the ground floor of Menara Mutiara Central in Cheras.

Next came the Blueberry Cheese Chicken Burger.

Blueberry Cheese Chicken Burger — Picture by CK Lim

By now the coincidence had become noticeable.

Blueberry jam spread across a fried chicken fillet. Cheesy mentai sauce. Fries occupying the remaining space on the plate.

The conversation drifted elsewhere as other items made their way to our table.

Pain suisse dukkah. Cinnamon roll. Strawberry milkshake. Another sip of coffee. New jobs. Stagnant salaries. Family news. Questions answered with more meandering, not-quite-finished stories.

‘Pain suisse dukkah’ (left). Cinnamon roll (right) — Pictures by CK Lim

By the time our server brings over the buckwheat fried chicken — the dish the menu calls H.O.W. We Fried Chicken, a name that doubles as both a nod to the name of the establishment and a slightly boastful pun — one of us finally says what we have all observed.

“Is it just me or have we ordered fried chicken three times now?”

Hard to argue with that; it’s basically another iteration — this round, buckwheat-crusted chicken accompanied by in-house pickled kyuri and honey mustard.

H.O.W. We Fried Chicken — Picture by CK Lim

By this point, the chicken had ceased to feel like an ingredient and started behaving more like a character.

Every appearance revealed a different costume — a different supporting cast, if you will, but with the star a constant, like Tom Cruise over more Mission: Impossible films than any of us can name.

This, too, is a side effect of each of us ordering from a QR code placed at our table. Our choices become a mystery; there is the delicious danger of two or more of us ordering exactly the same dish.

Ah, but that pattern is broken by the fourth main: the Fried Kailan with Wild Mushrooms. Buttered quinoa on baked pumpkin. Sautéed mushrooms. Feta crumbled over the leafy shards, a crispy crown for sliced bread.

Of course, we had to laugh at the one whose selection finally broke the spell.

This is the one outlier; the only order that does not involve a bird. Though its absence makes the pattern more visible by contrast, I suppose.

Fried Kailan with Wild Mushrooms — Picture by CK Lim

Even the title retained a trace of our morning’s accidental motif. Fried, once again.

(Naturally we dissolve into laughter again once this was pointed out. We are easily amused.)

Looking back, it is difficult to remember the precise order in which the dishes arrived. Easier to remember the conversations.

Easier to remember merriment — first, the giggles, then the guffaws — whenever another chicken-centred plate found its way to the table.

Fried chicken may have provided the theme for our brunch, but the true high point might well be the particular gaiety of four friends with the same juvenile sense of humour.

Who have known each other long enough to finish each other’s sentences or to leave them unfinished.

House of Wheat in Cheras (left). Strawberry milkshake (right) — Pictures by CK Lim

As we stumble out of the café, we promise that we will do this again in some other month. Sooner rather than later. We know who will be early, and who will be the last to arrive.

Some things remain stubbornly, blessedly, the same, you see. Perhaps that’s what being friends is all about.

House of Wheat

1-5, Menara Mutiara Central,

Jalan Desa Aman 1,

Taman Desa Aman,

Cheras, KL.

Open Mon-Thu 8:30am-7pm, Fri-Sun 8:30am-10pm

Phone: 03-9134 6668

IG: https://www.instagram.com/houseofwheat.cafe/

For more tales from the table and beyond, visit lifeforbeginners.com.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

PJ Section 17’s Dbites Kitchen cooks up wallet-friendly Western meals that one can eat every day

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 29 Jun 2026 09:19:52 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 29 — Global economic uncertainties have made everyone watchful of their spending, especially when dining out.

Perhaps a solution is to look for unconventional concepts, like a hybrid cloud kitchen offering well-priced meals for delivery and dine-in.

With menu prices ranging from RM18 to RM22, Dbites Kitchen, which operates out of Seventeen Mall’s Coox Kitchen, is a concept calibrated for these difficult times.

The trade-off for casual dining with friendly prices is sacrificing ambiance for a no-frills space resembling a food court.

Dine in at Coox Kitchen in Seventeen Mall for a no-frills, budget-friendly meal — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Dbites Kitchen’s main man is Oscar Wo who traded his chef’s whites from the contemporary French restaurant Enfin by James Won for this more casual concept.

A good starter like soup sets the tone for any restaurant meal, and their Soup of the Day (RM9.90) does not disappoint.

Their Tomato Soup is brimming with natural sweetness coaxed from the tomatoes while the Pumpkin Soup has a velvet-like texture and sweetness from the golden vegetable.

What makes it even better is pairing it with their in-house Levain Truffle Toast, which has golden-brown edges and a soft, airy interior, all thanks to using a nine-year-old levain.

The soups are easily on par with any good restaurant and reasonably priced, as most places easily cost double the price.

Among the chicken-centric menu, the French Whole Duck Leg Confit with Spaghetti Aglio Olio (RM22) nods toward Wo’s French culinary background.

French Whole Duck Leg Confit with Spaghetti Aglio Olio isn’t your typical no-frills Western meal but the duck dish stems from the chef’s French cuisine experience — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The slow cooking in duck fat makes the meat easily tear apart and results in a less salty profile, making it palatable to locals who often complain this cooking method produces saltier duck.

A classic spaghetti aglio olio tossed with oil and dried herbs pairs well with the duck meat too. Currently under the Coox promotion, it’s RM18.70.

Blackboard set meals can also be ordered, with a choice between the Classic (RM15.90) or Premium (RM18), served with a free drink.

The Classic Set usually has chicken for protein, accompanied by sides.

Set meals can be ordered, and they rotate like this: Grilled Chicken with smoky flavours and a well-caramelized exterior, paired with roasted roots, potato persillade and onion cream — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Instead of using the frozen breaded chicken chop favoured by many Western food stalls in coffee shops, they prepare their own chicken thigh and grill it on the stove for a caramelised crust and smoky flavours.

That day, the sides were roasted roots and potato persillade served with an onion cream.

The Premium Set typically uses New Zealand sea perch, which has a finer texture and is covered with a thin crispy batter.

Unlike those heavy with batter and an uneven ratio of fish to batter, this crust is thin and delicately crispy.

A thin crispy cracker is also added on top to give the fish a double layer of crunch.

New Zealand sea perch is used for the fried fish paired with a herbed spaghetti in one of their set meals — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Classic Fish and Chips (RM22) uses the same sea perch and thin batter, giving the golden fillets a lighter touch that may not satisfy those who prefer a crunchier bite.

The golden fries do their job well, each piece has a golden crunch when eaten with their housemade tartar sauce.

Classic Fish and Chips features fried fish encased in a thin, crispy batter with fries and their homemade tartar sauce — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Keto diet followers can also order their Borneon Herb Roast Chicken, which features chicken infused with Ipah Kayu, a Borneo-sourced root herb, and is accompanied by cauliflower rice.

Pasta dishes also include Nam Yue Chicken Karaage with pomodoro pasta and a creamy Grilled Chicken with truffle mushroom cream sauce.

Pizza is also available, cooked using an Ooni Pizza Oven.

The menu is also on GrabFood, allowing easy access to food delivery.

Dbites Kitchen

Lot L2-17, Coox Kitchen,

Level 2, Seventeen Mall

998, Jalan 17/38,

Section 17, Petaling Jaya.

Open: 11am to 3pm (Monday to Saturday), 6pm to 8:30pm (Tuesday to Saturday). Closed on Sundays.

Tel: 017-2705576

Facebook: @dbiteskitchen

*This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

*Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Lord of the Beans: Nas Jaafar is Malaysia’s first-ever World Brewers Cup champion

Malay Mail — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 14:52:56 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 28 — Malaysian barista Nas Jaafar has won the 2026 World Brewers Cup, an event dedicated to the artistry involved in the craft of manual brewing, the first Malaysian to ever win the competition.

The World Coffee Championships announced Nas’s win in an Instagram post yesterday, naming him the 2026 World Brewers Cup Champion and placing him ahead of finalists from Australia, Hong Kong, the Czech Republic, South Korea and France.

Nas, representing Malaysia’s national competition body, topped a field of elite brewers known for their mastery of manual brewing, sensory precision and coffee storytelling.

Previously Nas was also the winner of the Malaysia Brewers Cup competition in 2025.

The announcement triggered an outpouring of pride from Malaysian cafés, roasters and industry veterans.

The 2026 World Brewers Cup is part of the World Coffee Championships circuit, held this year across several global cities including Brussels, Dubai and Bangkok. The competition is regarded as one of the most prestigious platforms for showcasing excellence in hand‑brewed coffee.

Malaysia’s coffee scene, long overshadowed by larger markets, is expected to gain fresh international attention following the victory.

Yan Kee, Pudu: A grandson’s attempt to carve out a claypot chicken rice legacy of his own, beyond Heun Kee’s shadow

Ethan Lau — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 09:27:41 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 28 — When Heun Kee Claypot Chicken Rice in Pudu announced its permanent closure earlier this year, the news was met with a mixture of surprise and resigned acceptance.

The bulk of it came from regulars who had been patronising the restaurant for the better part of two decades — before it received a Bib Gourmand in the Michelin Guide.

But confusion also followed.

A similarly-named establishment in Taman Connaught, Cheras, acknowledged the closure, but put out a statement saying that it would continue operating as usual, while Heun Kee in Pudu maintained that it has no other branches.

Dinner and a show: part of the experience of a meal at Heun Kee, and now Yan Kee, is watching the embers glow and flames rage as each order of claypot chicken rice is fired. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The opening of Yan Kee quite soon after, serving the same food in the same exact premises, only added further to the confusion.

Is there a connection between the two? Was it just a facelift and name change for Heun Kee? Why?

These questions cropped up in the aftermath of the announcement, not least because Heun Kee’s closure meant it lost the Bib Gourmand recognition that transformed it from a beloved local spot to a still-beloved local spot, just now filled with tourists.

In the weeks that followed, Bryan Yun, the grandson of Heun Kee founder Heun May Lan, revealed himself as being behind Yan Kee.

He started working at his grandmother’s business over a decade ago, and was at the helm when it closed.

Black gold: the best part of any claypot chicken rice is the crisped, caramelised rice, or ‘fan jiuu’, left at the bottom. — Picture by Ethan Lau

However, when I reached out to him after a recent visit, he clarified that “Yan Kee is not a continuation, branch, franchise or successor of Heun Kee”, and that he wanted to “build an independent brand with its own identity”.

Despite that, Yan Kee is still a lot like Heun Kee in many ways.

Sure, the interior received a facelift, swapping out the white, pallid glow of fluorescent light tubes for warm ceiling lamps; the logo, signage and branding is all new, and the expanded social media presence points to a more modern way of doing things.

But the charcoal-fired stoves still rage at the front of the shop just like they used to, and the offerings on the menu, down to the specialities, will no doubt be familiar to anyone who’s been to Heun Kee: claypot chicken rice (RM28 for big), claypot waxed meat rice (RM47 for big), pig stomach pepper soup (RM21 for medium) and homemade seafood tofu (RM15 for 5 pieces).

The claypot chicken rice is cooked to order, so expect a bit of wait.

But when I visited at about 6pm on a Tuesday, there was zero wait, perhaps due to a combination of it being early, and the fact that the ongoing bridge upgrading work along Jalan Yew has made driving towards Yan Kee very inconvenient.

Still, the restaurant was about three quarters full, mostly with families, some I saw walking home after their meal.

When it arrives, there is a heady perfume of smoke (thanks to the charcoal-fuelled inferno) and the distinct aroma of dark soy sauce, which lends the rice a touch of sweetness.

Once the mui heong salted fish is mashed in, its funk adds a briny, savoury depth to the bouquet of fragrances.

Yan Kee uses large chunks of chicken, and the benefit of doing so is that by the time the rice and every other aspect of the meal is cooked through, the chicken retains a beautifully moist, succulent texture, as opposed to the dry, overcooked blocks I sometimes find in my claypot.

The pieces are marinated in a house mixture that I strongly suspect contains ginger, which balances out the sweetness of the sauce.

Most importantly, the rice is allowed to develop into the all-important fan jiu, crispy cracker-like pieces of scorched rice on the bottom of the pot that boast a toasted, nutty flavour.

It’s arguably the most essential part of claypot chicken rice, and it acts as a marker of proper technique.

Yan Kee is currently obscured almost entirely from view due to the ongoing roadworks on Jalan Yew. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The rest of the specialities, such as the pig stomach pepper soup and homemade seafood tofu, are decent enough, though not particularly memorable.

If anyone is going to make the trip to Yan Kee, the focus should be on the claypot chicken rice.

Time will tell if Yan Kee is successful in growing out of Heun Kee’s shadow.

With the closure still so fresh, along with the family connection, comparison and association of the two is bound to happen.

For Yun, Yan Kee represents a chance to build something of his own, on his own name, not his family’s.

But it is hard not to see it as a kind of “passing of the torch” moment.

On a personal level, Yun sees it as him “carrying forward the knowledge, passion and tradition [he] learned from [his] grandmother, while building something that is distinctly [his] own.”

Yan Kee Claypot Chicken Rice

59, Jalan Yew,

Pudu, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily, 11am-9pm

Tel: 016-259 0110

Instagram: @yankeepudu

• This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

• Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

• Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

From homemade roselle drinks to salted egg yolk chicken, Restoran Jit Shen in Melaka proves nothing comforts like the neighbourhood ‘dai chow’

Kenny Mah — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 09:54:42 +0800

MELAKA, June 27 — What are we truly hungry for?

We chase after the latest opening with impossible reservation lists. We queue for menus devised by celebrity chefs.

We bookmark viral videos of restaurants hundreds, sometimes thousands, of miles away, convinced that the next great meal is always somewhere else.

Certainly I have been guilty of such inglorious habits (the last one, anyway: I refuse to join lines longer than half an hour; food at the second best place always tastes better when you are served without losing a substantial portion of your remaining years in the process).

Yet every so often, a meal reminds us that some of the finest discoveries are not discoveries at all.

Rather, they have been there all along.

I am reminded of this whenever I return to my hometown of Melaka. Beneath the layers of heritage tourism, café culture and social media recommendations lies another city entirely: one built for the people who live there.

Not visitors. Not influencers. Not weekend food pilgrims.

Restoran Jit Shen in Taman Sin Hoe. — Picture by CK Lim

The restaurants that endure here are often the ones that have never needed reinvention.

They survive because regulars – residents from the neighbourhood, and usually no further – return, week after week, year after year.

And few institutions are more dependable than the old taman stalwart: the corner-lot dai chow restaurant.

A place that may function as a kopitiam or food court during the day, before surrendering its stoves each evening to a single kitchen serving cook-to-order Chinese fare.

Indeed, an ordinary dai chow dinner can be a feast in its own right.

On this particular evening, we head to Taman Sin Hoe in Bukit Baru to satisfy our dai chow cravings. (But it could be just as easily any other neighbourhood, from Ujong Pasir to Padang Temu.)

Earlier in the day, the nearby medan pasar would have been bustling; the typical Malaysian morning market. By late afternoon, however, the rush has dissipated and everything is calmer.

Homemade roselle drinks. — Picture by CK Lim

The neighbourhood feels more like a sleepy hollow as evening approaches. The only activity is the sight of workers arranging plastic tables and chairs along the pavement.

Ah, the dai chow we are looking for: Restoran Jit Shen.

Naturally, it occupies the corner lot. As we grab our seats, we realise we are far from the only diners out so early.

Here’s the thing: folks in larger cities might eat late, but Malaccans prefer having their dinner ahead of schedule.

The restaurant looks like any other dai chow you have seen in other tamans. Metal shutters faded from the years; perhaps more incongruously, a pair of red tanglungs hanging above the entrance.

(Chinese New Year has been over for some months now but I guess some decorations are simply permanent, no? Easier than packing them up only to pull them out again next year, I’m sure.)

Rather than begin with Chinese tea or a cooling glass of herbal brew, we follow the house recommendation and order their homemade roselle drink.

Claypot tofu with mixed vegetables. — Picture by CK Lim

Freshly poured and still slightly warm, the pale scarlet brew offers a pleasing tartness. Not too sweet.

It tastes less like a commercial beverage and more like something prepared in a family kitchen, which of course is exactly how it is made.

Soon enough, bowls of steaming white rice are distributed and the first dishes emerge from the kitchen.

First, a claypot of braised tofu with mixed vegetables. All enveloped in a glossy gravy that carries the concentrated flavour of slow cooking. Simple soulful food, this.

‘Kangkung belacan’. — Picture by CK Lim

Next comes kangkung belacan. The water spinach retains its vibrant green hue; more vivid still is the unmistakable fragrance of sambal belacan: savoury, pungent and deeply inviting.

(There is something particularly Malaccan about this dish. Many of us begin our mornings with nasi lemak accompanied by kangkung such as at the nearby Fatty Bom Bom Kopitiam.)

Jit Shen’s salted egg yolk chicken completes our little feast: its aroma rich and buttery, the chicken moist beneath its coating of salted egg yolk sauce, which clings generously to every piece.

What’s not to love? Golden gravy mingles with spoonfuls of rice. Each mouthful carries layers of savouriness punctuated by the distinctive richness of salted egg yolk. More rice, please.

As darkness settles over Taman Sin Hoe, more tables fill. Families gather. Plates are cleared and replaced. Another ordinary evening unfolds. What a blessing this is.

Salted egg yolk chicken. — Picture by CK Lim

Restoran Jit Shen

19C, Jalan Medan Pasar,

Taman Sin Hoe,

Bukit Baru, Melaka.

Open daily (except Wed closed) 5:45pm–11pm

Phone: 010-557 4677

For more tales from the table and beyond, visit lifeforbeginners.com.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

A tale of ‘kaisendon’ abundance at Nihonbashi Kaisen Don Tsujihan and Umi No Sachi Musuko in Tokyo

Lee Khang Yi — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 08:57:13 +0800

TOKYO, June 26 — When you’re in the land of fresh seafood like Japan, it feels like a sin not to indulge in the abundant catch of tuna, sea urchin, ikura and more.

Purists will say to go for an omakase but sitting through course after course feels stifling, so the quicker and easier-on-the-wallet option was kaisendon, a rice bowl topped with the fresh catch.

One viral spot for kaisendon is Nihonbashi Kaisen Don Tsujihan, a restaurant chain with many outposts scattered throughout Tokyo.

Some outlets like the Nihonbashi location, are more popular and have long queues. Upon the advice of a Tokyo resident, we went to Tsujihan at Ark Hills, Akasaka, which has a shorter wait time.

Social media has popularised it with its eye-catching bowls, which feature a mound of scraped tuna from the bones known as nakochi, combined with shrimp, whelk, geoduck clam and squid.

Each counter seat offers a bird’s-eye view of how these bowls are made, from the laborious mixing of the seafood in a huge stainless steel bowl to the entire plating process.

Each bowl of rice is topped with a mound of tuna mixed with shrimp, whelk, geoduck clam, and squid, and then topped with sea urchin. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Layer by layer, seafood is added to the tower of tuna, starting with the sea urchin followed by a small bowl of ikura, allowing the orange-red eggs to tumble down and demanding a snapshot to capture its glorious enticement.

How you eat your kaisendon is up to you.

One can slowly savour the rice sprinkled with sesame seeds with a little of the tuna, or perhaps just the ikura with a dab of soy sauce or wasabi.

Impatient ones can also mix everything up to relish it with a spoon.

It’s the next part that makes Tsujihan worth a stop: once you have eaten around two-thirds of your kaisendon, ask for a scoop of the boiling hot, creamy red bream broth to be poured over it.

Now you have ochazuke, similar to a Teochew porridge, where rice grains mingle with the hot broth and seafood.

Don’t forget to add the yellowtail cut into sashimi too as it will gently cook in the broth.

Tsujihan’s ‘kaisendon’, layered with sea urchin and ikura, creates enticing photos. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

With a belly full of warmth, it’s definitely an experience you don’t get here.

Prices for a basic bowl (Ume Course) range from 1,350 Yen (RM34) for the mixed tuna and salmon roe to 3,900 Yen (RM99) for the Tokujo Course that combines the basic bowl with extra crab and double portions of sea urchin and salmon roe.

Upgrade your kaisendon experience with premium tuna cuts paired with creamy sea urchin at Umi No Sachi Musuko, a small eatery in Kanda.

Most of their diners are Japanese salarymen with an occasional tourist like me who found their way there.

Just before the place opens, they post the handwritten menu outside for all to see and select which bowl they want to spring for.

There’s tuna sourced from three regions — Mimaya, Funka Bay and Fukouka — all in a bowl with different cuts.

Yellowtail sashimi is served at the side to be added to the kaisendon with the red bream broth to create an ‘ochazuke’. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Engawa, amberjack and bluefin tuna with different cuts can be ordered too.

What I wanted was a bowl of premium tuna cuts (fatty, medium-fat, and nakochi — tuna scraped from the bones) with sea urchin for 5,500 Yen (RM140).

Limited seats (21 in total) are available; early arrivals are ushered to the five counter seats or the four tables designed for groups of four.

Behind the counter, the owner swiftly cuts the tuna to place in the bowls.

He first layers deep red nakochi on the rice, then he piles on the thick slices of medium-fat and fatty tuna.

The final flourish is a generous scoop of creamy, gorgeous orange sea urchin.

Join the queue of Japanese salarymen at Umi No Sachi Musuko for their ‘kaisendon’ with premium tuna cuts. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A bowl of miso soup topped with tiny dark-shelled clams, known as shijimi is also served, imparting a deep intense broth to clear the palate.

Eating every part of the bowl is fun: mix the nakochi with rice, sometimes combine it with the briny sea urchin or enjoy each piece of the tuna dipped in soy sauce with wasabi.

The bowl is substantial, filling you up nicely.

Regulars speed through their rice bowls, eager to leave for a break before returning to work and allowing others to get their lunch.

Here, this kaisendon isn’t over-photographed like Tsujihan’s; the focus is solely on relishing the beautiful bowl of fresh tuna with sea urchin.

‘Kaisendon’ is served with various cuts of tuna and creamy sea urchin (left). A bowl of miso soup is topped with tiny clams called ‘shijimi’ (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Nihonbashi Kaisen Don Tsujihan

Open daily: 11am to 9.30pm

Website: @tsujihan-jp

Umi No Sachi Musuko

First floor, Miyagawa Building East,

12 Higashimatsumotocho,

Kanda, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo

Open: 11:45am to 2pm, 6pm to 11pm.

Closed on weekends and public holidays.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

From Michelin-starred kitchens in Singapore to a food court in Kuala Lumpur: How Ong Ai Li and Josh Chua built Nude in Bangsar

Ethan Lau — Thu, 25 Jun 2026 10:22:22 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 25 — A tiramisu costs RM15, and some passersby at Ong Ai Li’s old stall, Nude Bakery, in Kuchai wanted her to know exactly how outrageous that was. They didn't just say so; they brought proof.

“They would go out of their way,” Ong says. "They would go to the pasar malam and buy a tiramisu double the size of ours to show to my face and say, ‘Nah, see? This is a RM15 tiramisu!'"

Looking back, Ong can only laugh. Just earlier that year, she was the Group Executive Pastry Chef at Emmanuel Stroobant’s two-Michelin-starred Saint Pierre, and before that, she spent 16 years leading the pastry teams in some of Singapore’s most esteemed kitchens.

“In Singapore, people used to pay S$15 for one dessert, and they’d say thank you and hug me,” she says. “Here, I was getting scolded for RM15!” (S$15 is about RM47 for context.)

Her husband and business partner, Josh Chua, remembers the way they had to convince people to become customers.

“We had to beg people to come and eat,” he says. “We told them, ‘Take and eat one first. If it isn’t nice, no need to pay’.”

Almost four decades of combined experience in Singapore between them – Raffles, Guy Savoy, Spago, Yardbird, Saint Pierre – and here they were in a food court in Kuchai, begging strangers to taste a dessert before deciding whether to pay for it.

Still, they kept at it, closing the stall six months later to open Nude as a proper brick-and-mortar restaurant in Bangsar.

Ong, 38, grew up in Jinjang as the fifth of five daughters, with one younger brother. In a family full of accomplished siblings, baking became the one thing that was entirely hers.

“It was the only thing I could outshine my siblings in,” she says. “That gave me confidence.”

Ong first met Chua when they were both working in the Raffles Hotel in Singapore, and later worked together at Guy Savoy too. — Picture by Choo Choy May

She decided to become a chef at 15, against a family that had a business it wanted to hand down to her. They let her go to Singapore on the condition that they paid her tuition, but she stubbornly insisted on paying her own way.

“We all grew up like princesses,” she says. “I think they were just waiting for us to collapse and run back home. But I did not.”

Chua is a third-generation cook. He grew up in Kuala Terengganu, but had little interest in ending up in the kitchen.

After completing SPM, he considered becoming a hairdresser, then a racing driver, and nearly enrolled in a motorsport-focused mechanical engineering programme.

What changed his mind was a culinary degree at Kolej Damansara Utama (KDU), which he could fund with a National Higher Education Fund Corporation (PTPTN) loan.

His first job out of KDU was on the opening team at Prego, the Italian restaurant inside the Westin Kuala Lumpur, where he spent three years working up from commis to demi chef, before moving to Singapore for a sous chef post at the Raffles Grill, the position he was holding when Ong walked in as an intern.

Baking and being a pastry chef started out as a way for Ong to feel confident in her abilities when she was a teenager. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Ong first met Chua when she was 21, a fresh-faced intern at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore, working a station that, unofficially, belonged to the then 25-year-old sous chef.

“He kind of screamed at me," she says. "That was the first impression.”

Chua objects. “I didn't scream. I don't scream. I just say the words, and everyone gets it. I don't need to scream.”

“Felt like a scream,” Ong says.

They didn't cross paths again until the next year, when Ong joined Guy Savoy in Marina Bay Sands, alongside chefs flown in from Paris and Vegas.

Chua was already there as part of the opening team and was stationed right behind her. “I think he recognised me,” she says. “I obviously recognised him, because he was the only person who had ever scolded me in the kitchen.”

What followed wasn't romance so much as competition. Ong would start at 8.30am and still not be able to finish her prep; Chua would walk in at two in the afternoon and somehow still be done on time.

“Every benchmark he hit,” she says, “I also wanted to hit. I wanted to be better.” It's the dynamic that's run their partnership ever since.

For Chua, the kitchen was never part of the plan. It was simply something he stumbled upon when he came across KDU’s culinary program, which he could get a PTPTN loan for. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Guy Savoy eventually downsized, and because Ong was the last one hired, she was the first let go — transferred to Wolfgang Puck's one-Michelin-starred steakhouse, CUT, where the precision she'd built at Guy Savoy (mangoes cut into exact squares without rulers, dough sheets checked by eye against the light) counted for nothing against 200 covers a night.

She cried for six months, but persevered. “I'm like a cockroach,” she says. “I always figure it out and survive, eventually.”

Around this time, Chua left Marina Bay Sands altogether and stayed away for almost five years: he lectured at the Institute of Technical Education (ITE), then became the head chef at Concetto by Saveur and the executive chef at San Bistro after.

Ong’s meteoric rise within Marina Bay Sands continued. When Spago, Puck’s flagship restaurant, opened in Singapore, she was transferred there as a sous chef.

Ten months in, she was asked to replace the departing pastry chef. She tried to talk her bosses out of it.

“I told them I couldn't do it,” she says. “I'm happy to help [the new chef], no problem. I'll train with them and work long hours, but I'm not ready.”

They put the decision back on her anyway, handing her a stack of candidates' résumés and telling her to choose. She told them to choose. They promoted her instead, and at 26, she was the youngest pastry chef in Marina Bay Sands.

She also became the subject of rumours she never bothered to chase down. “I was young, Chinese, and a girl. People were really wondering who I was in bed with,” she says.

“But I didn’t mind. I'm very shut down to the outside world. My world is my kitchen and Netflix.”

The first real chance Ong and Chua had to leave Singapore came when The Peninsula Beijing offered Ong an executive pastry chef role and extended a package to Chua as well.

Despite working in some of Singapore’s finest restaurants, the couple are adamant that they want Nude to remain a casual, ‘bistro’-style place, with dishes like steak 'frites' on the menu. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Marina Bay Sands countered, bringing Chua back as executive sous chef at Yardbird. After doing the maths, they concluded they would save more money in Singapore and stayed.

A few years after that, they married, and Ong became pregnant. The hours at Spago were impossible to keep up while pregnant, so she moved to RISE, the buffet restaurant inside Marina Bay Sands, where she worked “only” 13 or 14 hours instead of close to 20.

“She worked up until the last three days before going into labour,” Chua says. “I brought a Swiss ball into the office for her to sit.”

She went back to Spago about a year and a half later, then left in 2023 to become corporate pastry chef for the Saint Pierre group — the post she was holding when the conversation about leaving Singapore came up once more.

“It was me,” Chua, 42, admits. “It was about growth for the both of us.” Having worked his way up to executive chef at Yardbird, he had hit the ceiling and there was nowhere else to climb on the corporate ladder.

He told Ong: “Let’s take a chance. Two years to try being our own bosses.”

Costs, and a desire to be closer to family meant they decided to leave Singapore and come home.

The oxtail ragù pasta is proving a fast favourite among regulars. — Picture by Choo Choy May

But after almost two decades away, they found themselves in an unfamiliar home. Ong says they spent money “like tourists” the first few weeks back, still thinking in Singapore dollars while paying in ringgit.

Though there were no shortage of parties interested in funding their new venture, both from Singapore and back here, she was reluctant to take up the offers.

“The moment we said we were coming back people wanted to give us money,” she says. “When we were in Kuchai, one of the investors who had approached us in Singapore came and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you came back?’ And I told him, “‘We can’t. We need to figure out how Malaysia works first.’”

Licensing, which she could navigate quickly in Singapore, became what she calls “rocket science” in Malaysia. There were 15 separate steps, many of them delayed by public holidays.

Even getting the signboard for the current shop was no simple task. “I would get so angry and scream at the signboard guy, then I’d have to call him back and say, ‘Sorry, I'll wait for you,’" she says. “Because if not, I won't have a signboard.”

The discipline that got her from commis to pastry chef in a few years doesn't transfer here, where, in her words, “timelines don't need to be followed.”

Manpower is the harder problem, and they're both quick to say it isn't about numbers. “It's not the quantity, it's the quality,” Chua says.

Ong is more blunt about why. Too many kitchens here, in her view, survive without needing to perform — restaurants propped up well enough that staff get hired and promoted just to stay put, “slap two slices of bread together,” with no incentive to push further.

“They're killing the market,” she says. “How can passionate people come through? If you're passionate in a kitchen like that, they will tell you to stop trying to be a hero.”

The passionate ones either burn out or leave the country altogether. She and Chua did the latter years ago and are now staking a bet on a downturn in Singapore's F&B industry, hoping it sends enough of those passionate, burnt-out people back across the causeway to fill out their kitchen.

What they want to build is more relaxed than what either of them had spent two decades doing.

“I think we're very ‘bistro’,” Ong says. “I want to do moules frites... it would be awesome with wine, everyone is chill, happy and relaxed.”

No tasting menu, no theatre. “I don't want pretentious. I've been there. I want it to feel warm, I want nice details, I want people to be able to spend money without it feeling like a pinch.”

The name was Chua's framing of the same idea. “That's why we're called Nude,” he says. “Stripped of pretense.”

The menu they opened with is a fraction of what they'd actually like to cook. “The menu is only about 30 per cent of what we intend to do,” Chua says.

“We can't do the full thing because of space, storage, and manpower. So we picked the dishes that aren't too expensive, that will sell, that are popular with people, and that are easier on the staff.”

A happy accident, Ong’s pavlova continues to be a signature for Nude. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Early favourites with customers include an oxtail ragù pasta that contrasts the unctuous, gelatinous richness of braised oxtail with the bracing sharpness of pesto; a bistro classic, steak frites made with Wagyu hanging tender; the light, airy pavlova that became a signature back in Kuchai; and a satisfying sticky date pudding that is utter heaven.

Ong treats the menu as a "live" experiment, adjusting it against what regulars keep asking for. “We are also using this space to help strengthen the menu,” she says.

The tiramisu that opens this whole story doesn't actually sell that well at Nude. In Malaysia, it's a signature in name more than in practice.

What sells is the thing Ong didn't plan for. Making the tiramisu uses up egg yolks; the leftover whites became a pavlova.

“It was never meant to become the highlight,” she says, “but now it is, and now I have too many egg yolks.”

She's working on recipes to use them up, including a miso soufflé — even though soufflés generally use more egg whites. “I know, I'm crazy.”

Neither of them takes a salary. “If we took a salary, we’d have to charge like 10 times the price,” Ong says. “We're just trying to build a brand first, and see whether Malaysia supports it.”

The measure is meant to be temporary – she's clear she can't keep this up forever with two kids to provide for – but for now, salary is the first thing they cut, before anything touching the food.

Ong doesn't dress up what it costs. Her kids are five and seven. “I love my kids. But when I'm in the kitchen, I have to focus here. I have to work. If I don't work, if it doesn't succeed, there's no money for them either.”

She “goes home, showers, cries, sleeps,” and starts again. “有的选，没有人会选的” — if given a choice, no one would choose this.

What doesn't get cut is the food itself. “If I have to cut something, it's working with a small team,” Ong says. “I can cover additional shifts myself, as long as the thing is done right.”

Chua agrees. “We haven't been off for the past month,” he says, matter of factly. Salary, sleep, time, all of it is negotiable. Asked where they actually draw the line, Ong doesn't hesitate:

“We will never compromise on quality.”

A heavenly bowl of syrupy comfort, the sticky date pudding is another popular dessert at Nude. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Nude KL

10, Jalan Telawi 4,

Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily, 11am-10pm

Tel: 011-2896 3699

Instagram: @nude_kl

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and mildly self-deprecating attempts at humour.

Kepong’s popular Restoran Street Porridge brings its silky porridge to Damansara Utama, featuring new items like roast duck, ‘char siu’ and roast pork

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 08:44:37 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 24 — PJ folks won’t need to drive down to Kepong anymore for a taste of Street Porridge’s silky porridge as an outlet just opened in Damansara Utama (Uptown).

You may need to strain your eyes to spot its location though, as the signboard is too small to grab your attention. Just look for the Unifi signboard instead; it’s next door.

With 12 types of porridge including the plain version, this is the place to visit when you need congee’s restorative powers while feeling under the weather or perhaps for a change from your usual rice diet.

Herb-Roasted Duck is newly introduced at this Damansara Utama outlet.— Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The toppings range from the usual salted egg and century egg accompanied by a protein like chicken or pork.

Even an oldie like dried oyster and peanuts can be found here, side-by-side with farm frog porridge or the Hong Kong boat (teng zai) porridge.

The texture of this humble rice porridge is thick, with a glossy finish that adds heft and pleasure to every spoonful with your choice of toppings.

For those who often dismiss porridge as “sick food,” the Fresh River Prawn Porridge (RM38) will change your perception as the smooth porridge is laced with prawn roe.

With this new outlet, the menu also offers egg noodles and rice paired with their roasted meats to capture the appetites of office workers during lunch and dinner.

Various roasted meats like duck, ‘char siu’ and ‘siew yoke’ can be ordered here (left). Inside, the air-conditioned space has tables of varying sizes to fit different groups (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Joining their signature steamed chicken, they also offer herb-roasted duck, char siu and siew yoke.

Herb-Roasted Duck (lower quarter for RM25) sports a maroon coloured skin and meat lightly scented with Chinese herbs.

Eat the duck with the juices from its cavity for a stronger herbal flavour.

The restaurant took over the Taiwanese restaurant Little Happiness 93 and is located right next to the Unifi shop in Damansara Utama (Uptown). — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Dining here is also more comfortable because it’s air-conditioned, unlike the more casual restaurants they operate in Kepong.

Restoran Street Porridge

89, Jalan SS21/1A,

Damansara Utama (Uptown), Petaling Jaya.

Open: 11am to 3pm, 5pm to 9:30pm. Days off are not fixed yet.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

From chicken ‘katsu sando’ to cheeseburgers: RAYs brings its classic PJ warmth and a new menu to Mont Kiara

Kenny Mah — Tue, 23 Jun 2026 08:55:08 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 23 — Before there was a second outlet, there was a first attempt that never happened.

Kenneth Lee, founder of RAYs, will tell you that Mont Kiara was not a new idea at all. It was the original one.

Years before the café first landed in PJ’s Section 51A, Mont Kiara was the location he and his partners, Samantha Yeo and Jolene Goh, first scouted for what would become RAYs.

“At the time, it simply wasn’t feasible and the opportunity didn’t work out,” Lee recalls.

So they went to PJ instead, into a modest shoplot with a kitchen the size of a small bedroom.

Today, RAYs has finally expanded with a second outlet at Steppes @ Mont Kiara. Here the menu offers cafe food classics — steak frites, burgers and milkshakes among them — alongside the specialty coffee that started it all.

Lee considers the original rejection a stroke of good fortune: “That turned out to be a blessing in disguise because PJ taught us everything we know today. It helped us understand our identity, our customers, our strengths and, most importantly, the importance of community.”

Founder Kenneth Lee (centre) with his partners Samantha Yeo (left) and Jolene Goh (right). — Picture courtesy of RAYs

It is a roundabout origin story, fitting for a brand that has spent the past two and a half years quietly becoming something larger than the sum of its sandwiches.

The first RAYs outlet opened in November 2023 with an unfussy premise: specialty coffee, comforting food, a neighbourhood feel, and an orange-hued shoplot in Section 51A best known for its Chicken Katsu Sando and French Toast.

Underneath that early simplicity was a steady accumulation of lessons.

“Running our first outlet taught me the true meaning of community,” Lee says. “It taught me to be more humble, more patient and to listen more carefully. A neighbourhood café is not built by a business alone; it is built together with the guests who walk through its doors.”

That listening, hours of conversation at the counter, fed directly back into the kitchen, with the menu revised multiple times along the way.

The PJ shoplot, however, came with a ceiling. During the morning rush, the small space filled up fast, with little room for larger groups or events.

Before (left) and after (right) the renovation. — Pictures courtesy of RAYs

“There were limitations in terms of acoustics, seating flexibility, workflow and overall capacity,” Lee says. Every one of those constraints would later resurface, in reverse, as a design brief for Mont Kiara.

Ask Lee when he knew RAYs was ready to expand, and he resists a tidy answer. “It was more a combination of things coming together over time,” he says.

One factor mattered more than the rest: his staff had grown up alongside the brand, and a single-outlet café offers limited rungs on the ladder. “In many ways, Mont Kiara is as much an opportunity for them as it is for the business,” he says.

By the time the opportunity resurfaced years later, the team had a clearer sense of its own identity, and Mont Kiara’s community spirit aligned closely with what RAYs had been building since day one.

If PJ was an exercise in working around constraints, Mont Kiara is what RAYs looks like once those constraints are removed.

“The larger footprint allows us to create a more comfortable dining experience with improved seating arrangements, greater flexibility for larger groups and the ability to host community gatherings and events more comfortably,” Lee says.

RAYs’ Classic Cheeseburger (left). Quack & Mashed Potato (right). — Pictures courtesy of RAYs

Months of renovation followed. Lee cleverly documented every step of the process on the RAYs Mont Kiara Instagram page, keeping regulars from their PJ café updated while drawing interest from potential customers.

The kitchen was rebuilt from the ground up to improve efficiency and reduce bottlenecks during peak hours, while acoustics got the same attention, a direct answer to PJ’s liveliest hours: “We wanted the space to feel warm, inviting and comfortable regardless of whether someone is dropping by for a coffee, a family meal or an evening gathering with friends.”

That bigger kitchen has given the menu room to stretch. The signature RAYs’ Classic Cheeseburger is the anchor, an unfussy patty-and-cheese affair built for the diner crowd RAYs is courting.

Quack & Mashed Potato pairs creamy mashed russet potatoes with crispy duck bacon, a comforting, slightly unexpected match.

On the drinks side, the Berries Matcha layers strawberry and raspberry purées into a house-blend matcha, while the Mont Blanc — yuzu cream, filter coffee and a touch of grapefruit zest — is a quiet flex of the specialty-coffee instincts Lee built his name on.

None of this was meant to dilute what RAYs already stood for. The terracotta tones that have become shorthand for the brand carried over to Mont Kiara, deliberately.

“Those colours represent warmth, comfort and familiarity,” Lee says. “The same values that guide our approach to hospitality, food and coffee. We wanted returning customers to feel that same sense of home the moment they walk through the doors.”

Berries Matcha (left). Mont Blanc (right). — Pictures courtesy of RAYs

For most of its existence, RAYs has been a brunch café and nothing more. Lee put the question to himself plainly while planning Mont Kiara: “Would I come here for dinner?”

His honest answer, at the time, was no — the menu, lighting and overall experience at the PJ outlet were built around brunch. “But as we grew, we wanted to create a space where everyone could enjoy RAYs beyond the daytime,” he says.

That desire shaped Mont Kiara’s dedicated dinner programme, with warmer lighting and a menu built specifically for evening dining — burgers and milkshakes alongside steaks, grilled dishes, sharing plates and comforting dinner classics.

Alongside the dinner menu, RAYs has added a pet-friendly alfresco section, something Lee says guests have been requesting for years, with pet-friendly menu offerings being explored next.

A health-conscious thread runs through the menu too, with macro-friendly and higher-protein dishes sitting next to the comfort food RAYs is known for — comfort food and healthier choices, Lee believes, can coexist.

Branding grew from the original sun ray logo (left) to the new burger mascot (left). — Pictures courtesy of RAYs

There is also a new mascot greeting customers at Mont Kiara: a burger holding a cup of coffee, with a sun motif worked into the design. Its origin grew out of a Burger Rave event RAYs hosted last year, which showed Lee that customers “weren’t necessarily looking for a specific cuisine from RAYs” so much as food that felt comforting and easy to share.

Rather than commit to a single category, the team landed on what Lee calls a modern comfort diner, combining specialty coffee with comfort food, burgers, dinner plates and healthier options under one roof.

The mascot carries that duality literally. “The burger represents where we’re heading, while the coffee in its hand represents where we came from,” Lee says. “Together, they tell the story of a brand that continues to evolve while staying true to its roots.”

The sun, meanwhile, is the reason the café is called RAYs at all — a name inspired, he says, by sun rays and the warmth, positivity and good vibes they bring to everyday life.

Despite the scale of what their new shop in Mont Kiara represents, Lee resists framing it as RAYs moving on from where it started.

RAYs Mont Kiara is the next chapter of a journey that started in PJ. — Picture courtesy of RAYs

“I still love our PJ outlet,” he says. “It has a warmth and charm that will always feel like home to me. Mont Kiara is not about replacing that identity. It is about building upon everything we have learned and continuing to improve. Proving to our community that we remember, we listen and we care.”

For Lee, the two outlets are less rivals than different passages in the same story, one picking up where the other left off.

“Mont Kiara isn’t simply a second outlet,” he says. “It’s the next chapter of a journey that started in PJ.”

RAYs Mont Kiara

Steppes @ Mont Kiara,

32 Jalan Kiara 3,

Mont Kiara, KL.

Soft launch: June 23-26, 2026

Official opening: June 28, 2026

Open daily 10am-10pm

IG: https://www.instagram.com/raysmontkiara/

RAYs PJ

Lot 8. 2, B.LAND. Jalan 51A/225, Section 51A, PJ

Open daily 8:30am-5pm

Phone: 012-879 6878

IG: https://www.instagram.com/raysgotchu/

For more tales from the table and beyond, visit lifeforbeginners.com

Eat your way around the East Coast at Bangsar’s Rumoh Mekda

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 22 Jun 2026 12:16:41 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 22 — Now you can savour the East Coast of Malaysia, which covers states like Pahang, Terengganu and Kelantan, at Rumoh Mekda.

It’s a special opportunity to relish refined, tradition-rich dishes — usually reserved for families — without waiting for an invitation.

Once called Dapur Mekda, this catering service — my go-to for daging tumbuk belado and rendang ayam — has now magically transformed into a full-fledged restaurant in Bangsar.

Now your table can have the best of the East Coast: a centrepiece Patin Goreng Sambal Tempoyak (RM78) rubbing shoulders with Pahang’s Sambal Hitam, or Nasi Kerabu Lemak Bakar (RM30) from Kelantan.

The possibilities are endless here, limited only by your stomach space.

Work your way around their menu where the nasi kerabu takes centrestage, accompanied by various dishes designed for sharing between three to four hungry diners.

Dine in comfort at the newly opened restaurant (left) and you enter the restaurant from the front (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Don’t just focus on that menu but open your eyes to their counter where daily dishes, which includes various gulai, kerabu and other bites are good for sharing between two diners.

Some dishes are mainstays, while others rotate, allowing one to deep dive into the East Coast cuisine.

You know you’re in good hands when you can smell the Patin Goreng Sambal Tempoyak the moment it hits the table.

A whole patin fish is deep-fried and swathed with fermented durian, glorious in its creaminess and pungency.

The melt-in-your-mouth flesh of Pahang’s river fish transforms this humble kampung offering into an epic dish that calls for copious bowls of rice.

Nasi Kerabu Lemak Bakar has lighter, more refined flavours: mix the vegetables, ‘kerisik ikan’, ‘budu’, ‘sambal belacan’ and ‘gulai tumis’ together with the rice and your choice of protein. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A popular order is their Nasi Kerabu, available here in three variations: Ayam Percik, Lemak Bakar or Daging Bakar for RM30 to RM34.

Slowly add the side ingredients served on a tray bit by bit to the yellow-tinged rice; there’s thinly sliced cucumber, long beans, bean sprouts, torch ginger flower and laksa leaf.

For flavour, sprinkle the potent budu (fermented fish) and the sambal belacan, adding a little of the gulai tumis and serunding ikan.

Pinch a bit of the salted egg, your lemak bakar and fish crackers, mixing it with the rice to enjoy all the elements together.

This version tends to have a refined air with lighter flavours.

Here, the lemak bakar or cubed pieces of beef fat are well charred on the grill.

Whet your appetite with the Kerabu Perut Pucuk Paku (left) and Sambal Nyor Mangga Ikan (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Pair it with an assortment of salads from the counter: Kerabu Perut Pucuk Paku (RM15) and Sambal Nyor Mangga Ikan (RM12), which will whet your appetite.

Using tender fern fiddleheads from which woody stems have been painstakingly removed, and tossed in serunding, an assortment of herbs plus thick slices of cleaned and slightly chewy beef tripe, the Kerabu Perut Pucuk Paku is amazing.

Unlike at other places, you may find a small piece of lime or even a halved piece mixed inside, which gives a tangy bite when combined in the salad.

Sambal Nyor Mangga Ikan is a refreshing mixture of thin strips of young mango, fish and grated fresh coconut.

Everyone’s favourite Daging Tumbok Berlada (left) and the unique ‘kampung’ style Masak Lemak Tulang Ikan Merah Kering Nanas (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Everyone’s favourite order is the Daging Tumbok Berlada (RM48), a toothsome bite mixed with spices that will hook you once you taste it.

Prepping this dish requires many steps from boiling the meat with spices to soften it. Then, pound the meat with a pestle to shred it, deep-fry the shreds with various spices, and serve the resulting dish with ketupat or rice.

Rumoh Mekda’s version still retains its juiciness and is packed with flavour from the spices, making it a great accompaniment to a bowl of rice eaten on-the-go or right in front of your television.

It’s my first time encountering Masak Lemak Tulang Ikan Merah Kering Nanas (RM15) often found in the kampung and favoured by the older folks.

The deep fried bones are best eaten slowly to extract the fine flesh that mixes with the rich coconut milk gravy lightly sweetened with pineapples.

Singgang Oxtail has a gentle sourness that refreshes the palate as you nibble on the tender meat. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

It’s not often you find singgang dishes on a menu and this Singgang Oxtail (RM56) is superb, featuring a gentle sourness and spiciness from the use of onions, chilies and asam gelugor.

Slowly relish each piece of the tail with its soft meat and slight chewiness in the clear, refreshing soup.

Lala Sambal (left) uses clams fried in a mild ‘sambal’ while Sayur Labu Masak Lemak Putih (left) is soupy with coconut milk. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

From the menu, Lala Sambal (RM45) sits nestled between choices like prawns and siput sedut.

The clams fried in a mild sambal make a good dish paired with white rice and contrasted with the mellow, soupy vegetable dish like Sayur Labu Masak Lemak Putih (RM32), which uses coconut milk with a little spiciness.

Sambal Hitam (left) and Daging Goreng Berlengas (right) are best paired with a plate of white rice. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Pahang’s Sambal Hitam (RM22) made with dried belimbing buluh has a rich depth and Daging Goreng Berlengas (RM20) where stir fried tender beef is given a sweet flavor using kicap manis and the savoury oyster sauce, are both great rice killers.

Bring over a huge contingent of friends to relish all the food, which is best eaten in abundance, and enjoy the varying textures and tastes to complete your East Coast experience.

The catering business is currently on hold but will resume once the restaurant operations are on track.

Rumoh Mekda

LG10, Bangsar Village 1,

Jalan Telawi 1, Bangsar.

Open daily: 12pm to 3pm, 5pm to 10pm.

Reservations can be made online via Umai using a link on their Instagram page.

Tel: 011-28095014

Instagram: @rumohmekda

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Bon appétit: What makes a restaurant a ‘bistro’ — and why is KL suddenly full of them?

Ethan Lau — Sun, 21 Jun 2026 08:22:19 +0800

COMMENTARY, June 21 — Take a gander on social media, or even swipe around on Google Maps, and it would seem the newest type of restaurant catching on in the Klang Valley is the bistro.

It’s spread across the city, from the centre to neighbourhoods like Mont Kiara or TTDI, even all the way out in Bukit Jalil.

Restaurants and cafés remain more prevalent for now, but the arrival of the bistro hasn’t been limited to physical restaurants; otherwise, Q Bistro and every other mamak with “bistro” in its name would be proof of its arrival long ago.

No, the bistro has crept into our dining vocabulary too, with staples like steak frites now on menus at any restaurant with air conditioning and an Instagram account.

But what is a bistro? Far from the seemingly catch-all term that it’s morphed into here, the bistro, or bistrot if you prefer, has its roots in small, modest Parisian (typically) restaurants serving simple everyday food, usually in a rustic fashion.

Soupe à l’oignon (French onion soup), pâté or terrine, usually with cornichons (gherkins) and a bit of crusty bread, oeuf mayonnaise (hard-boiled eggs topped with mayonnaise) or escargots de Bourgogne (snails baked in parsley butter) are common entrées.

Les plats often include confit de canard (cured duck legs cooked in their own fat), poulet rôti (roast chicken) and boeuf bourguignon (beef braised in red wine).

For dessert, crème brûlée or tarte Tatin (upside-down caramelised apple tart), both classics amongst the bistro canon.

They differ vastly from refined, highly technical preparations made classic by the likes of Escoffier: tournedos Rossini, a filet mignon steak topped with pan-fried foie gras, garnished with slices of black truffle and finished with sauce madère, is a classic of haute cuisine, offering the sense of luxury and opulence traditionally associated with French cuisine on this side of the world.

It would be remiss to paint this as an exclusively recent phenomenon.

Yeast Bistronomy in Bangsar has been around since 2012, long before more recent openings like Bistro Léa, which opened in Sri Hartamas in 2024.

But Léa’s early success — replete with checkered floor tiles, onion soup for RM38, frog legs for RM68 — is perhaps the strongest example of the appeal of bistros.

A more recent arrival over the hill in Bukit Damansara is Bidou, chef Darren Teoh’s restaurant.

The Michelin Guide, arguably France’s third-largest culinary contribution to the world after Auguste Escoffier and Le Cordon Bleu, pointed to a trend of “nostalgia-inspired” restaurants opening in Malaysia, citing Bidou the same year it entered the guide.

But really, the reason the “bistro” is suddenly everywhere isn’t just nostalgia. It’s the price. Though it isn’t really a bistro at all — it was initially envisioned as an ode to nouvelle cuisine with a prix fixe menu — Bidou has recently begun offering an à la carte menu in a bid to get more diners through the door.

Bistros, and crucially, the appeal of bistros, are about the exact opposite of luxury and opulence.

Even when you take the pomp and circumstance away, there is an undoubtedly rich, fortifying, yet alluring quality to French cuisine that has allowed it to form the backbone of almost any Western kitchen today.

And as diners’ wallets begin to feel the pinch, affordable luxuries like a well-made duck confit for just below RM50 or steak frites at under RM150 become far more appealing as tasting menus climb past RM500 and wallets do the opposite.

Most of these bistros — real, co-opted or simply slapped on a sign — wouldn’t make it past the audit of a purist.

But none of this is really about authenticity. It’s about whether one can still afford to feel a little spoiled on a budget — and one should, because pleasure, enjoyment and joie de vivre shouldn’t be reserved exclusively for the bourgeoisie.

The French would know about that more than anyone.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.

** Find Ethan Lau on Instagram here: @eatenlau

Beloved Penang stall Apong Guan all set to win KL hearts (and tummies!) one ‘apom’ at a time from August

Opalyn Mok — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 08:41:16 +0800

GEORGE TOWN, June 20 — For generations of Penangites, a stop at Apong Guan along Jalan Burma (or its more familiar name Burmah Road) has been part of the ritual of growing up.

Whether it was a quick afternoon snack after school, a treat after running errands, or a weekend indulgence with family, the stall’s fragrant apom, cooked fresh on a traditional nine-hole copper griddle, has attracted loyal customers for more than five decades.

But that familiar sight will soon be no more.

June 26 will be the final day of operations for the iconic roadside stall before current owner Alan Uan packs up and heads to the Klang Valley, where he hopes to introduce the family business to a new generation of customers.

The 47-year-old plans to drive to Kuala Lumpur the very next day and begin preparations for a food truck operation in the Ampang area.

“Opportunities don’t come often. If there’s an opportunity, it’s better to take it,” he told Malay Mail.

The move marks a significant step for a business founded by his father, Uan Cheng Guan, now 78, who established the apom stall more than 50 years ago.

Cheng Guan used to operate the stall on a three-wheeled hawker cart but several years ago, after Alan took over the business, he switched to a white van using a food truck licence by the city council.

Alan has continued using the family recipe for the apom, a batter rich with fresh santan that is spooned onto a copper griddle to form fragrant delicate, pillowy mini-pancakes with corn and banana fillings.

Alan returned to Penang about five years ago to help run the family business after spending much of his career in Kuala Lumpur.

Alan Uan took over the Apong Guan stall several years ago and now has big plans to expand the business. — Picture by Opalyn Mok

Having worked in the food and beverage sector as well as the fast-moving consumer goods (FMCG) industry, where he worked as a sales manager, he believes the family business is ready for expansion.

“I learnt a lot about the F&B business through my line of work and I have a lot of connections too,” he said.

Alan has also trademarked the name “Apong Guan” as part of his early branding efforts before taking steps to expand the business.

The expansion strategy begins with a food truck, which is currently being modified to include a freezer, water tank, sink and other facilities required for licensing.

“I will start my food truck business in Ampang area once I get the necessary permits from the city council, hopefully by mid-August,” he said.

If licensing proves difficult, he already has alternative arrangements through contacts who own coffee shops and food courts.

“I don’t want to rush into anything. If I can’t get the permit, I can still operate from a coffee shop, but of course, I would prefer to run my own food truck so I can decide my own schedule,” he said.

The move south is also backed by a business partner who has helped secure space at Selayang mall, where an Apong Guan outlet is expected to begin operations in August.

“I will prepare the batter and deliver it to them and they have also developed electric griddles that can better regulate cooking temperatures to produce consistent quality apoms,” he said.

Alan Uan hopes to start his Apong Guan food truck business in Ampang in August. — Picture by Opalyn Mok

While the food truck and the mall outlet represents the first phase of expansion, Alan’s ambitions stretch much further.

His long-term vision includes establishing a central kitchen, obtaining halal certification and eventually producing frozen apom products through a largely automated process.

“The first step is the food truck. The second step is to expand to more shopping malls with my own investments. If that’s successful, we can invest in a central kitchen and apply for halal certification,” he said.

For Alan, diversification is also about securing the future of a business built by his father.

“This business, if you stop working, your income becomes zero,” he said, using an example that if he was unable to operate the business for three months, it would mean he would have no income to pay for his commitments or to support his family.

“When I supply batter to other operators, the margins may be lower, but it creates another income stream. Whatever happens, there is still income coming in,” he said.

Despite relocating to Kuala Lumpur, Alan said he has no intention of severing ties with Penang.

He plans to continue renewing the food truck’s permit with the Penang Island City Council (MBPP), preserving the business’ roots in the city where it all began.

For now, however, regular customers still have one week left to savour the familiar taste of Apong Guan at its longtime Burmah Road location before the white food truck embarks on its next journey.

The stall operates daily from 9am to 4pm except Wednesdays and Sundays.

Bittersweet symphony: Coffee chocolate banana bread for when cravings can’t wait

Kenny Mah — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 08:35:05 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 20 — Some recipes seem to come with conditions attached.

You know the sort. Only organic, free-range eggs. Mangoes that yield exactly the right amount when pressed gently with a thumb. The bananas must be blackened, their skins freckled beyond recognition.

Sometimes these instructions are useful. More often, they become reasons to postpone cooking altogether.

Trust me, I have been there.

Last weekend, I found myself craving banana bread. Not tomorrow, not after a few more days of waiting. I wanted banana bread that afternoon.

The problem was that my bananas were merely ripe.

Bright yellow. Sweet enough. Ready to eat.

But not the dramatically overripe specimens that most banana bread recipes insist upon.

For a moment, I considered waiting.

Ripe bananas. — Picture by CK Lim

Then I realised that waiting for perfection is sometimes the fastest route to never making anything at all.

So I baked anyway.

Rather than compensating with extra sugar, I decided to lean in another direction entirely. If my bananas offered a gentler sweetness, then coffee and chocolate could provide depth. Bitterness. Complexity.

The result was this coffee chocolate banana bread. The fragrance that filled the kitchen was not one of caramelised sugar but something earthier: roasted coffee, cocoa and warm banana mingling together in the oven.

A bittersweet symphony.

Who knew? It was exactly what I had wanted all along.

Instant coffee granules. — Picture by CK Lim

COFFEE CHOCOLATE BANANA BREAD

Most banana bread recipes recommend using heavily ripened or blackened bananas for good reason. As bananas ripen, their starches break down into sugars, making the fruit sweeter, softer and easier to incorporate into batters.

The resulting loaf is often richer and more intensely banana-forward.

Of course, not everyone enjoys very sweet bakes.

If, like me, you prefer a more restrained sweetness, then ordinary ripe bananas work beautifully. They still contribute moisture and flavour, but without overwhelming the loaf.

This also allows other ingredients to step forward and shine.

Fans of chocolate will appreciate the inclusion of cocoa powder; this brings a mellow cacao note. Dark chocolate nibs melt into the crumb and contribute a pleasant nuttiness. Instant coffee granules add gentle bitterness and a roasted aroma that deepens every bite.

Together they create a loaf that feels quite grown-up (or so I tell myself).

You’d notice I use extra virgin olive oil instead of butter.

Don’t get me wrong; I love butter but olive oil produces a wonderfully moist crumb that stays tender even a day or two later. It produces a softness that makes each slice especially satisfying.

Serve warm with a cup of black coffee and you may find yourself wondering why you ever waited for your bananas to turn black in the first place.

Dark chocolate nibs. — Picture by CK Lim

Ingredients

(A) Dry ingredients:

120g all-purpose flour

30g Dutch cocoa powder

2 teaspoons baking powder

A pinch of salt

2 teaspoons sugar

(B) Wet ingredients:

1 large ripe banana

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 egg

3 tablespoons whole milk

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons instant coffee granules

A handful of dark chocolate nibs

Cool the loaf for a few minutes on a wire rack. — Picture by CK Lim

Method

Preheat the oven to 180°C.

In a large mixing bowl, sift the flour. Add the Dutch cocoa powder, baking powder, salt and 2 teaspoons sugar. Mix well and set aside.

In a separate bowl, mash the banana until mostly smooth. Add the olive oil, egg, milk and 2 tablespoons sugar. Stir until well combined.

Add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture and mix until incorporated. Avoid overmixing.

Add the instant coffee granules and dark chocolate nibs. Stir briefly and somewhat haphazardly; pockets of coffee and chocolate throughout the batter are part of the charm.

Pour the batter into a 1-pound loaf tin lined with baking paper. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes, or until a skewer or knife inserted into the centre emerges clean.

Remove from the oven and allow the loaf to cool slightly in the tin for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Leave to cool for a further 5 minutes before slicing.

Enjoy warm, preferably with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

Slice and enjoy warm, preferably with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. — Picture by CK Lim

For more reflections on food, travel and everyday life, visit lifeforbeginners.com

Nasi Lemak Pak Man is Damansara Utama’s newest spot for ‘nasi lemak’, with satisfying ‘sambal paru’ and ‘rendang ayam’

Ethan Lau — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 08:20:51 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 19 — Nasi Lemak Pak Man is the latest contender to enter Damansara Utama’s nasi lemak scene, throwing their hat into the ring with the likes of Village Park, Say Yes Cafe, a branch of Tanglin and many other roadside stalls in the area.

The scene is a hotly contested one: on weekday mornings, it is not uncommon to see groups of working folks gathering around car boots and makeshift stalls to grab breakfast before heading into the office; on weekends, the line at Village Park stretches around the block, filled with people for whom our national dish starts and ends with only that shop.

It’s not hard to see why the ground is so fiercely contested: there really isn’t a single dish more universal in its availability than nasi lemak, and its appeal is just as universal, and more importantly, timeless.

It’s no viral fad, and although we’ve subjected it to some pretty horrific acts in the name of social media gimmicks, at its core, it is still our beloved national dish.

I, admittedly, am not joining that queue anytime soon — the last time I frequented Damansara Utama for nasi lemak regularly was more than a decade ago, when my family used to buy it from a lovely couple who would set up in front of the dim sum restaurant a few doors away from Village Park.

Now, they are long gone; the dim sum restaurant has become a smartphone repair shop, and I still haven’t found a rendang ayam like theirs. It was my favourite.

Order at the counter, where all the ‘lauk’ is displayed, and small breakfast items like ‘roti bakar’ are also offered. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The arrival of Pak Man may change things.

It is the brainchild of the same people behind Padangs on Wheels, who opened the first Pak Man outlet last October just down the road from their Padangs on Wheels location in Shah Alam.

In Damansara Utama, it has taken up residence in the same shop on Jalan SS 21/62, which is now home to both concepts.

The draw here? Nasi lemak is available all day (almost — from seven in the morning to midnight), every day.

You order at the counter where all the lauk is displayed, and when I visited just after nine in the morning — too late for the stalls or car boot sellers — everything was available, from the usual suspects like fried chicken and sambal sotong to specialities like rendang limpa (spleen), but it was the rendang ayam (RM6) and sambal paru (RM5) that caught my eye.

I topped it up with a begedil (RM2.30) for good measure, though I needn’t have.

It was probably too much food for that early in the morning, and the begedil itself was a bit too dense and stodgy for my liking.

‘Nasi lemak rendang ayam’ with ‘sambal paru’ and ‘begedil’: breakfast of champions! — Picture by Ethan Lau

But I thoroughly enjoyed the nasi lemak biasa (RM5.50) and all its components, from the rice — not the fluffiest, but rich and full of coconut milk — to the sambal, which leans on the savoury-sweet side, with just a touch of heat.

The highlights were the two lauk: the rendang ayam, which had an appropriately chunky, “dry”, and very aromatic paste with lots of lemongrass and kaffir lime leaf, and the standout sambal paru, which spattered around the plate like salty and spicy pebbles.

Any trace of unpleasant rubbery or grainy texture has been fried out of the pieces of lung, rendering them light and crispy, but not greasy.

If Pak Man can maintain these standards — and more pressingly, these prices — it has every chance of succeeding, though this industry is never cut and dried.

These days, getting a plate of nasi lemak I actually want to eat usually means a trip out to Kampung Baru. If Pak Man can keep this up, I may finally have a reason to stop driving so far for breakfast.

The two shop lots that used to house Padangs on Wheels are now home to both concepts. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Nasi Lemak Pak Man

92G, Jalan SS 21/62,

Damansara Utama, Petaling Jaya.

Open daily, 7am-12am

Tel: 011-1903 7672

Instagram: @nasilemak.pakman

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Missing Sydney’s meat pies, this young Malaysian brought them home and built Haus of Pie

Kenny Mah — Thu, 18 Jun 2026 09:50:55 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 18 — The best meat pies tantalise our senses.

First comes the crisp shatter of golden pastry. Then the rich aroma escaping with every tear of the crust. Beneath that lies the reward: a filling that is hearty without being heavy, yet savoury enough to satisfy.

In Australia, the humble meat pie is woven into everyday life. It is the sort of food found everywhere — grabbed from a bakery on the way to work or eaten courtside at a football match. For many Australians, it is a comforting constant.

But not only for Australians. For Shawn Lu, a Malaysian who had studied in Australia, there’s nothing quite like an Aussie meat pie.

Some food cravings fade with time, you see. Others might well follow you home, as it did for Lu.

After spending four years in Sydney — two completing a degree in Media Arts and Production at the University of Technology Sydney and another two working full-time — he returned to Malaysia carrying more than just memories of life abroad.

He recalls, “It was then that I fell in love with Australian meat pies. Hence, Haus of Pie was born.”

Rolling pastry for the meat pies. — Picture courtesy of Haus of Pie

Today, Haus of Pie operates as an online business specialising in freshly baked Australian-style meat pies, selling primarily through weekend pop-ups, markets and scheduled deliveries.

He says, “Leaving the friends, connections, and the life that I built wasn’t easy, but over time, the distance from family and all the important moments I missed back home, pushed me to rethink what really matters.”

While he was weighing up what came next, thoughts kept returning to one particular food.

“While I was in Australia, one simple thing stood out. Australian meat pies. From convenience stores to bakeries to high-end restaurants, they were everywhere. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with them.”

That affection eventually turned into action, he says. “I decided to start making meat pies myself.”

The decision was not entirely without preparation. During his time in Sydney, Lu worked at Organic Bread Bar, a popular bakery.

“I got hands-on exposure to how a proper food business operates, from production standards and quality control. This experience gave me a deep appreciation for the craft behind baking.”

Slowly simmering the filling for Creamy Chicken Mushroom Pies. — Picture courtesy of Haus of Pie

Yet he quickly discovered that operating a business alone demanded a very different set of skills: “Then I was part of a team with a system already in place. Here, I am the team.”

On any given day, Lu might be baking, packaging orders, planning deliveries, handling customer enquiries, managing social media campaigns or keeping track of accounts.

Suffice to say, the learning curve has been steep.

He shares, “The skills I had to learn on the fly were mostly on the business side, as I was not in the business industry before starting Haus of Pie. Cooking, running social media ads, managing a customer database, planning delivery routes, pricing for wholesale.”

Still, he finds satisfaction in the constant process of figuring things out.

“But I think that is what makes this journey exciting, every challenge is a lesson and every order that goes out the door is proof that it’s working.”

Baking the pies in the oven. — Picture courtesy of Haus of Pie

Like many first-time founders, Lu expected his biggest concern would be finding customers. Instead, reality arrived in a different form.

“But when orders started coming in — and suddenly the challenge flipped entirely. As a one-man crew, I found myself struggling to keep up. When you’re producing in large quantities on your own, maintaining the same standard in every single pie becomes incredibly difficult.”

Help came from unexpected places.

“What got me through it was the people around me. I’ve also had customers who turned out to be industry chefs, one of them a Michelin-starred chef, who took the time to give me honest, invaluable feedback.”

He adds, “That kind of generosity from people who have no obligation to help means everything to a small business.”

Closer to home, support arrived from family members willing to step in whenever required.

“My mum and my brother were the ones who consistently offered a helping hand whenever I needed it. Haus of Pie is very much a family effort, even if it doesn’t always look that way from the outside.”

A cross section of a Beef Ragu Pie. — Picture courtesy of Haus of Pie

Current offerings include the Creamy Chicken Mushroom Pie (tender chicken chunks and fresh brown mushrooms in a silky cream perfumed with Sarawak black pepper) and Beef Ragu Pie (slow-braised beef in a rich tomato ragù), while a Chicken Rendang Pie has also featured previously.

As with proper Australian meat pies, the fillings are simmered for hours. Then there is the matter of the pastry.

Lu explains, “What makes our pies distinct is the combination of a puff pastry top and a shortcrust base.”

Rather than chasing trends or novelty, he follows a simple rule: “I only make pies that I truly enjoy eating myself.”

The approach, he believes, keeps the food honest. He explains, “If I’m not excited about a pie, I can’t be expecting anyone else to be.”

Lu with Haus of Pie customers. — Picture courtesy of Haus of Pie

Looking ahead, Lu’s ambitions remain focused rather than expansive.

He shares, “My vision is simple. To bring authentic Australian meat pies to as many people in Malaysia as possible.”

For now, Haus of Pie continues to operate as it started — one pie at a time.

Haus of Pie

Web: https://hausofpie.com.my/

IG: https://www.instagram.com/hausofpie_official/

Your breakfast just got better with PJ Section 13’s Sonny Bagel Shop, which serves awesome bagels and coffee

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 17 Jun 2026 08:28:04 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 17 — Mention a bagel and two words immediately come to mind: chewy and long queue.

Sure enough, that’s what you get at Sonny Bagel Shop, the latest addition to the Klang Valley’s booming bagel scene and there’s a reason for this if you read further along.

But the big question on everyone’s mind is: Is the wait worth it?

Since it just opened, the overwhelming response fueled by hype and curiosity, has caused long wait times.

Perhaps give them time and avoid peak times, like lunch and weekends.

For this review, I visited three times. The sweet spot is definitely early when they open for a quick breakfast as their dine-in area isn’t very large.

Baking seven bagel flavours fresh every day — plain, sesame, everything, black olive, poppy seed, Cheddar jalapeno and cinnamon raisin — is a hefty task.

Bagels take time and space, making them unlike a normal bakery that can easily churn out trays of shio pan.

The dough needs to be mixed and proofed overnight. Once ready, it must be rolled and shaped by hand, risen again, boiled and baked.

Make your choice of bagel from oven baked to wood fired versions to pair with your choice of spread or fillings in a sandwich. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

These multiple procedures mean some bagel shops run out of bagels quickly if time, space, or manpower hampers them.

The menu offers many permutations: you can have your bagel with a choice of spreads, in a sandwich (sweet or savoury), or even as a pizza.

Oven baked bagels are RM9 each, while the wood fired version costs an extra RM3.

The wood-fired bagel is randomly selected; for instance, one time it might be the poppy seed bagel and another time the plain bagel.

You won’t get distinct smoky flavours but the time in the wood-fired oven gives it a crispier crust.

Your friend is the cashier in this case, guiding you on which types of bagels fit your sandwich choice or even spreads.

Decked out in American diner vibes and that eye catching green colour, the seating area is comfortable for a quick bite. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Pricing ranges from a straightforward bagel with butter or jam (fig or strawberry) for RM14 to the Holy Lox (smoked salmon and cream cheese) or the Philly Cheesesteak (beef, cheddar, and pickle) for RM34 each.

It’s impossible to eat my way through the whole menu but favourites I would return for again and again are the Holy Lox (RM34), Happy Mushroom (RM27) and Strawberry Matcha (RM24).

Holy Lox is the classic pairing of smoked salmon with a smear of scallion cream cheese and sprigs of fresh dill, capers and red onion add a slight piquancy to cut through the richness.

Because it’s served separately rather than as a stacked sandwich, this makes it easier to slowly relish the crispy crust with the chewiness.

Happy Mushroom will definitely perk up your day with its mushrooms, mozzarella, and rocket, served with creamy aioli and a fluffy black olive bagel. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Happy Mushroom isn’t the type to make you hallucinate but these well-sautéed mushrooms, stringy double mozzarella, hash brown and a healthy green dose of rocket will make you smile.

One note though: the aioli seems light on truffle, but that’s not a bad thing, as too much would make this bagel sandwich feel artificial.

Philly Cheesesteak did not impress but is a substantial sandwich to start the day. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Philly Cheesesteak (RM34) failed to impress, the whole pairing of sliced beef, caramelised onion, capsicum, jalapeño, and double Cheddar did not work together cohesively.

To balance the savoury choices, my pick for something sweet would be the glorious Strawberry Matcha (RM24).

A generous matcha cream cheese with chopped pistachios was the highlight of this cinnamon raisin bagel sandwich, which gained a fruity sweetness from the strawberry jam.

I would have thought the flavour of a cinnamon raisin bagel would clash, but the cinnamon flavour is mild enough not to be intrusive.

Strawberry Matcha (left) is the kind of bagel that you will want to eat on repeat. The classic Peanut Butter & Jam (right) works here with a thick, fragrant peanut butter. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Other sweet choices include a Maple Pecan and a classic pairing of Peanut Butter & Jam (RM18), which delivers with a thick, fragrant peanut butter.

Java fanatics will be happy to hear that their coffee is also pretty good as the people behind this bagel shop operate Optimist Coffee.

Service is also top notch despite the long wait times for a seat.

As the bagel shop is right at the back of JAM PJ (formerly Gasket Alley), the fastest way to access it from the front is to walk down the side lane used for parking.

Check the bagel shop’s Instagram for updates to stay informed as they tend to sell out before closing time.

Look for the bagel shop on the lower level of JAM PJ, which is best accessed via the side lane for parking. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Sonny Bagel Shop

No. 15, JAM PJ,

LG01 & LG02, Lower Ground Level

Lot 68, Jalan 13/6,

Section 13, Petaling Jaya.

Open: 9am to 5pm or when bagels sell out. Closed on Monday.

Tel: 014- 3246618

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Instagram: @sonnybagelshop

After 56 years on Penang’s Jalan Burma, popular Apong Guan is said to be relocating to Kuala Lumpur in August

Lee Khang Yi — Tue, 16 Jun 2026 18:48:20 +0800

GEORGE TOWN, June 16 — Penang is a treasure trove for street food, including a tiny pancake known as apom, sold by Apong Guan who operates a roadside stall along Jalan Burma.

For 50 years or more, this man has been regaling us with his stories while making fluffy small pancakes from a coconut milk batter at his stall.

Eaten hot from the pan, the ‘apom’ has a fluffy texture with a rich coconut milk flavour lightly sweetened with the banana. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Each piece is cooked in a special pan over a hot fire, and he adds sliced bananas or corn to give it a slight sweetness.

According to a Facebook post shared on Penang Walkabouts group chat by Dennis Cheng, the uncle has finally hung up his apron and his son has taken over.

Cheng shared in his post that the son plans to relocate the business to Kuala Lumpur, probably in August.

Uncle Guan will add banana to the half cooked ‘apom’ (left). Some prefer a dollop of creamed corn (right ) with their ‘apom’. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

It was also reported that he will use their existing food truck and target areas like Ampang, Cheras and eventually a shopping mall.

At the news, a group member Andrew Sia called for the Penang authorities to preserve this famous food and maintain its legacy within the state.

Head to Senawang, where Asia Laksa Restaurant dishes out hearty curry ‘laksa’ packed with ‘yong liew’ and chicken

Kenny Mah — Tue, 16 Jun 2026 08:54:06 +0800

SEREMBAN, June 16 — We head to Senawang, a suburb of Seremban. Here, tucked within a modest row of shoplots, Asia Laksa Restaurant has been drawing locals for bowls of their signature — and arguably only — dish.

There’s something particularly encouraging about eateries that pride themselves on a single offering, with a couple of variations at most. Now that is confidence in their craft and their product.

(Plus: For newbies to their charms, such as we are, that’s a sure signal that hollers “Delicious food here!”)

Asia Laksa Restaurant is located in Senawang, a suburb of Seremban.

The restaurant itself has that classic aged corner-lot shophouse atmosphere. Faded lemon yellow walls. Old tiled floors rubbed smooth by years of foot traffic. Large round wooden tables occupy most of the dining area, the kind built for family-style eating rather than solitary lunches.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything we would expect with just about any kopitiam in any neighbourhood, yes?

Watch closely.

Locals head here for bowls of their signature curry 'laksa'.

Near the entrance, customers cluster around the cooking station, calling out takeaway orders over the clatter of ladles against metal pots. Steam curls upwards in thick ribbons.

This is how the sights and sounds and smells awaken our appetite; reassuring us that our taste buds will soon be tantalised, that our bellies will soon be sated, if only we have the patience to wait a little longer.

What surprises first-time visitors may not be the laksa but the drinks everyone orders while they wait. Instead of kopi (or our favourite order of cham, for that matter), many regulars favour the homemade barley water.

Homemade barley water.

We understand its simple appeal: this light beverage offers relief without dulling the palate. The sweetness is restrained (unless you ask for a sweeter cup); soothing rather than starchy.

Between spoonfuls of curry gravy, every grateful sip of this plain barley water promises to cool scorched lips (not that your lips will truly be scorched; the heat is reasonable, if you ask us).

Then, of course, comes the big bowls of laksa, the reason everyone makes the trek here.

Curry 'laksa' with 'yong liew'.

The curry laksa with yong liew is tremendous, if you ask us; the bowl guarantees a feeling of abundance — or, at the very least, a happily expanded waistline by the time you finish.

(I tease; you can order a small sized bowl too, but why would you? Be gluttonous, and dig in!)

The gravy is thick enough to cling stubbornly to every strand of noodle, yet not so rich that it becomes cloying. We first taste the creaminess of santan, then the dried chilli heat, followed by deeper savoury notes that linger at the back of the tongue.

Then there’s the yong liew: fish paste enveloped in layers of soy curd wrapping, bouncy with a nice chew.

Sheets of foo chuk soften at the edges as they absorb the luscious curry, managing this somehow without disintegrating entirely. Tofu puffs swell with spicy broth like tiny sponges.

And let’s not forget the absolutely requisite hard-boiled egg; sliced into half, the better to show off its buttery yolk.

Abundance, as we promised before.

Chicken curry 'laksa'.

We both agree that we prefer the chicken curry laksa, however.

Whereas some versions elsewhere have the audacity to merely scatter meagre shreds of meat across the bowl without a hint of embarrassment, Asia Laksa Restaurant serves substantial chunks of chicken. Proper protein, this is.

Large pieces, bone-in and deeply infused with curry — now that’s how chicken ought to be, in a decent bowl of curry laksa. The meat separates easily enough with our chopsticks, neither overly soft nor stringy.

This version feels heartier, more muscular somehow. There is a satisfying weight to each spoonful.

Whichever version you prefer, the curry laksa tastes exactly as curry laksa should: unapologetically unctuous, sinfully spicy and deeply comforting.

Asia Laksa Restaurant

341, Jalan Berlian,

Taman Senawang Jaya, Seremban.

Open daily (except Thu closed) 9am-2pm

Phone: 06-677 0667

*This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

**Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Hit up PJ Kampung Cempaka Restoran Dan Pub Sin Hoy Kee for a small town vibe and peppery pork offal soup paired with yam rice

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 09:30:20 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 15 — Eateries next to a market often have an added advantage because they have access to the freshest items.

Pair it with good know-how and chances are you'll find one or two stalls skilled enough to whip up a good meal that will have you returning again and again.

Tucked all the way at the back, this stall inside the busy Restoran Sin Hoy Kee offers piping hot bowls of Pork Offal Soup (RM8.50) laced with white pepper.

The soup may look clear but as you drink it, the pepper works its magic to warm you up.

With 10 years of experience, this stall owner perfectly balances the potent pepper as this version isn't the fiery type that chokes you up after one sip.

This corner coffee shop inside Kampung Cempaka is a popular hangout — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Instead, this version is mellow, humming away in the background.

Consider having this bowl of soup for lunch rather than for breakfast, as the soup strengthens the longer it stays on the stove.

Inside the bowl is a treasure trove of thick cut pork belly, perfectly cooked to a softness that made it easy to eat.

The offal is also well prepared without any unpleasant odors.

Usually diners pair it with a bowl of white rice but yam rice is also offered.

A bowl of Yam Rice here isn't loaded with yam pieces but each grain is infused with dried prawns — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

When it hit my table, I was puzzled, thinking they might have mixed up my order because it looked like plain brown rice.

While the yam flavour is milder, the rice grains have a distinct aroma of dried prawns, making the dish easy to finish.

The fun part comes next: this stall offers Hakka homestyle dishes, portioned for solo diners.

Find this stall right at the back of the coffee shop — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The first dish I selected was an all-time favourite: Braised Yam Pork Belly (RM15) or Wu Tau Kaw Yoke.

Perhaps I was subconsciously compensating for the lack of yam in my rice, as each slice crumbled with just a prod of my chopsticks.

This rendition of Braised Yam Pork Belly was good, featuring soft yam pieces sandwiched between thick, melt-in-your-mouth pork belly — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

It was the perfect sidekick to the tender pork belly, which had a savoury, not-too-salty sauce. This was definitely one of those dishes where you want to scrape up all of that sauce,

I decided to take away the Braised Pork Belly with Mustard Greens (RM15) to eat back home and yes, this was good too.

It is definitely worth seeking out again: it will be one of the dishes I secretly hide in the freezer for a quick, satisfying meal when I don't want to go out.

Braised Pork Belly with Mustard Greens was well-cooked, featuring tender pork belly and mustard greens that weren't overly salty — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Vinegar Pork Trotters (RM11) is a classic dish and many renditions exist, each with its own preferred flavour.

This version nailed the luscious pork trotter part. However, the sauce tends to be neither sharp nor sweet enough, settling at a mid-level, perhaps to please diners' taste buds.

Plenty of brown food, including Yam Rice, Braised Pork Belly with Mustard Greens and a decent Vinegar Pork Trotters — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Even though this place is in Petaling Jaya, I often find Kampung Cempaka has a slow village vibe that comforts me when city life gets too hectic.

This particular stall's days off are not fixed but it will be closed on Sunday, June 21.

Pork Offal Soup Stall

Restoran dan Pub Sin Hoy Kee

497, Jalan PJU 1/1,

Kampung Cempaka, Petaling Jaya.

Open: 9am to 2pm or until food is finished. Days off are not fixed.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Reban in Aman Suria brings the farm-to-table approach to PJ with air-dried, antibiotic-free ‘kulit naga’ roast chicken rice

Ethan Lau — Sun, 14 Jun 2026 09:14:32 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 14 — Remember when farm-to-table first burst onto the scene in restaurants throughout the Klang Valley? It’s okay, me neither.

But then it got a rebrand: now, these restaurants have “seasonal” menus; the produce is “locally sourced” and “sustainable”; and each chef somehow has a personal connection with the farm even though they’re all using the same few suppliers.

Alright, that last remark was a little unfair. You’ll encounter this mostly in fine dining restaurants, occasionally in non-fine dining, but still modern, upscale concepts, and for the most part, I think it’s a good thing.

Malaysia is blessed with the land and weather to produce great ingredients, and it should be highlighted more.

Up until recently, it had mostly been a niche thing, restricted to that type of restaurant and that kind of price point.

Enter Reban, a newcomer to Aman Suria, which opened in early May. The name is the Malay word for “coop”, and the restaurant has partnered with Sinisana, a chicken farm based in Ijok, Kuala Selangor, to sell — you guessed it — locally sourced chicken.

Reban’s ‘Nasi Ayam Kulit Naga’ features chicken sourced from a local farm in Kuala Selangor. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Reban’s signature offering is its Nasi Ayam Kulit Naga (RM13.90), which features a whole chicken leg, air-dried for up to a day, then roasted to order and served with rice and chilli sauce.

You can see the legs being hung out to dry at the front of the shop, with every bit of moisture pulled off from the tight, stretched skin.

I’ll level with you: it doesn’t really taste like the conventional chicken rice we’re used to. And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

For one, this is a proper roast chicken, not a chicken showered in scalding oil.

It sports a shatteringly crisp skin, bronzed, scaly and living up to the “dragon skin” moniker.

The air-drying yields taut, firm flesh that remains moist while having a satisfying meaty pull.

And perhaps the best thing that can be said about this chicken is that it truly and readily tastes like chicken, although the rice leaves much to be desired.

Most chicken today is a texture delivery vehicle for whatever sauce or seasoning you put on it.

The flavour has been bred and farmed out of it, optimised for fast growth and high yield.

This has a deeper, almost gamey intensity without too much fat. If you like high-quality birds and you like your roast chicken with crispy skin and firm flesh, this ticks all the boxes.

Reban’s other offerings include Claypot Chicken Rice (RM15.90), which comes topped with chicken lap cheong, mushrooms and salted fish.

The claypot chicken rice doesn’t quite show off the full potential of the chicken. — Picture by Ethan Lau

It is a decent approximation of the dish, with a good enough balance of saltiness and sweetness to flavour the entire claypot, and although it never really develops a full layer of crispy rice, some bits did end up becoming crispy.

My main contention is that this preparation doesn’t fully show off the quality of the chicken.

Nice chunky bits of thigh are used, but I can’t tell them apart from any other type of chicken.

The best thing about Reban is, without a doubt, the chicken, and if you want proof, the Nasi Ayam Kulit Naga is where you’ll find it.

Look for the sign a few steps away from the popular Aman Suria ‘dai chow’, Yan Wo Seafood Restaurant. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Sometimes, the best argument for local sourcing doesn’t have to be a tasting menu. It can just be a chicken leg that actually tastes like one.

Reban by Sinisana Chicken Farm

C-G, 1, Jalan PJU 1/45,

Aman Suria, Petaling Jaya.

Open daily, 11am-9pm

Tel: 014-879 1775

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Paul Pairet, the genius behind Shanghai’s Ultraviolet, talks about creativity and how to hone it

Lee Khang Yi — Sat, 13 Jun 2026 15:21:06 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 13 — Every night, 10 diners sit at a long table for a 20-course dinner at Ultraviolet in Shanghai where food is paired with a multi-dimensional experience orchestrated by French chef Paul Pairet using images, sounds, and scents.

Pairet explains, “What makes Ultraviolet is the control as it opens up a lot of doors in terms of creativity.

“Because time and food are controlled, we can control the atmosphere and every dish with scenarios that enhance it,” he adds.

He calls it “psycho taste,” as described in his talk at The World’s 50 Best in 2018.

The first dish Big Nonos á Moelle — an extra-large roasted bone marrow, chiseled and served with a super-hot ginger beef bouillon — sets the tone for Ultraviolet with a blazing fire. — Picture courtesy of Ultraviolet

“Psycho taste is everything beyond the taste. It’s the taste of the taste. If you can anticipate the taste, you can play on the mind to trigger the way you will eventually perceive the taste.”

Ultraviolet is labelled by many as avant-garde, defined by Pairet as “not just making something that looks modern but bringing a tangible ingredient to the plate that is a disruption, which he has never seen before.”

Dinner at Ultraviolet starts like a theatre performance with a first act designed to shock: the lights go off in the room, a foghorn screams, and the door between the kitchen and the dining area opens.

A Haka chant from the All Blacks rugby team echoes in the darkened room as a man lights a blazing fire to cook the first dish.

First scene over. Shock factor achieved.

Paul Pairet was invited by his mentor, Professor Dr Jean-Pierre Poulain from the University of Toulouse, to talk about Ultraviolet to Taylor’s University students. — Picture by Choo Choy May

Once you strip away all the drama, it’s all about the food and Pairet’s ultimate goal is to serve it at the exact moment it tastes its best.

In an interview with The New York Times, Pairet credits his mother for the inspiration, as she controlled his eating time when he was a child, calling him to eat when the pork chop she cooked was at its peak.

Pairet was recently in Kuala Lumpur at the invitation of his mentor Professor Dr Jean-Pierre Poulain from the University of Toulouse.

Poulain, who is also the director of the Centre for Asian Modernisation at Taylor’s Culinary Institute, invited Pairet to share insights on Ultraviolet with the students and alumni.

An autumn woodland scene enhances the course’s atmosphere, giving it a sense of belonging. — Picture courtesy of Ultraviolet

The Frenchman once worked at Paris’ Cafe Mosaic in the 2000s, where French culinary icon Alain Ducasse noticed his talent and hired him for the Ritz Carlton in Istanbul.

His globe-trotting adventures took him to Sydney, Jakarta, and Hong Kong, eventually landing him in Shanghai, a city where he built the French restaurant Mr and Mrs Bund and Ultraviolet with the VOL Group in May 2012.

Throughout the years Ultraviolet was opened, Ducasse remained someone Pairet sought for advice and approval.

The idea for Ultraviolet began taking root as early as 1996, about 16 years before the restaurant opened ,as he wanted to break the traditional rules of dining, such as following a set course.

‘Bye-Bye Gummies’ was one of the dishes on Ultraviolet’s last menu where the gummies sit in a bathtub filled with hot consomme that melts them. — Picture by Choo Choy May

“When the freedom exists for a 20-course menu, it allows you to disbalance the dish so you don’t need to follow the classic rules regarding flavour or the requirement for a main course.

“We can make food too sweet or salty but we can rebalance it in the next course,” he added.

“Ultimately what is important in the restaurant has always been the food and we take a lot of time to perfect one recipe.”

Some items like the iconic UV Gummies took him 20 tries before they were perfected.

However, the Beijing Cola Duck — a Peking-style crispy-skinned duck lacquered with Coca-Cola — took him 12 years to perfect, all driven by Pairet’s stubbornness to get it right.

As described in an article on SmartShanghai, the Coca-Cola with its glucose and citric acid ingredients causes the skin to soften.

In reality the gummies are served in a bowl with that hot broth poured over it to melt. — Picture courtesy of Ultraviolet

Eventually Pairet got the drinks company to create a dry Coke syrup in powder form, where he swaps the glucose for isomalt to crisp the skin and adds the citric acid just at the last moment.

The lacquered skin is cut into pieces and served to the guests.

One notion of psycho-taste is the sense of belonging, which allows one to experience the food in the atmosphere that suits it best.

Pairet discovered this as a teenager when he ate the best peach while surrounded by peach trees as the sun set.

Inside Ultraviolet’s multi-sensory room, he re-enacts moments to enhance a mushroom course, using an earthy forest atmosphere with visuals like the forest floor and the scent of wet leaves and soil.

Pairet frames the iconic Haribo gummy bears in two different menus: “The Race of Gummies” and in his last menu, “Bye-Bye Gummies”.

Diners pick their favourite gummy bear for dessert and watch it race on the wraparound screen, which the service staff also joins by running around the room. Sometimes even the diners join them for the fun experience.

It’s a play on an artificial world where gummies, an iconic artificial food, are served in Evian water, Lapsang Souchong syrup and mountains of Coca-Cola, racing in an artificial video game universe to the tune of Super Mario Brothers music.

Foie Gras En Vessie uses a French technique to cook the pig’s bladder, which is inflated table side to release the rich cloud of truffle and poultry. — Picture courtesy of Ultraviolet

For “Bye-Bye Gummies” the tiny, chewy bears are placed in a bath and slowly soaked in hot consommé, causing them to melt away to the tune of Staying Alive sung by the Bee Gees.

As more people started to take notice, the awards started coming: The Michelin Guide awarded Ultraviolet three Michelin stars in 2018. World’s 50 Best Restaurants and Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants listed Ultraviolet from 2013 to 2022.

Pairet also picked up the Chef’s Choice Award and the Lifetime Achievement Award from Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants.

He is also active as a judge on Top Chef France television series, earning him fame with many who recognise him from television.

In 2025, as renovations around the building that housed Ultraviolet threatened its existence and would have caused about eight months of disruption, Pairet decided it was time to close Ultraviolet and shift his focus to becoming a restaurateur.

As he reflects, “It was a very good thing to stop at the peak rather than wait and slowly go down.”

In Shanghai, there’s the timeless Mr and Mrs Bund, the French cafe Polux and in Paris, there’s the French grill and deli Nonos & Comestibles.

In November last year, Pairet’s footprint also expanded to Singapore when the French carvery Moutarde and the ice cream parlour, Sundae Royale opened in Resorts World Sentosa.

Expansion is on the cards for the all-day dining concept Polux as he entered into a licensing agreement that will see an outpost in Taipei opening soon.

“It is a concept that can go into any city. It is simple but sometimes finding simplicity is difficult because someone always tries to make it complex. I don’t need to show things anymore.”

“I am happy doing simple things. It’s not so easy to do simple things as there’s a lot of reference for people with the dishes but you can always elevate the dish to whatever level you want.” he added.

Lunar Mushroom (left) is a dessert of freeze dried bamboo fungus filled with Yakult, nutmeg and hazelnut. Sand Rose—Ispahan (right) is a hand-crafted raspberry sand crystal rose with real petals and a nitro lychee foam.— Pictures courtesy of Ultraviolet

He also emphasises that ensuring consistency at all times is important.

Pairet’s passion and relentlessness is the key to his achievements and creativity.

“If from morning to night, you think only about food and your life revolves around restaurants, you’re pretty dull.” For him, creation stems not from innate ability but from training and determination.

“Creation is not a gift, it’s a craft and a trade that you are trained to do.” Many may give excuses that they aren’t creative but Pairet believes it’s just a state of mind.

“A lot of people who think they can’t but it’s because they have never pushed themselves to try and try again. This confidence can increase by going into a trade and the more you know, the more confident you become,” he adds.

Honesty is also an important factor as Pairet believes if time is wasted on copying, one can never create. “This is the case for almost 90 per cent of people as you will never create shit as at the end of the day if you spend all your time to secretly copy.”

Keep up to date with Paul Pairet on his website and Instagram: @paulpairet

Experience breakfast bliss at Ah Sheng Pork Noodles in Kajang with tender offal and soul-soothing broth

Kenny Mah — Fri, 12 Jun 2026 08:44:58 +0800

KAJANG, June 12 — What does breakfast bliss mean to you?

For some it’s simply getting out of bed after midday and grabbing whatever is in the fridge. (The option to sleep in, on the weekend or a public holiday, is enough paradise; what the palate desires does not matter.)

For others, it might mean a full English breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausages, baked beans, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and — if you’re a purist, and you ought to be — black pudding; decadent or transcendent, take your pick.

Or it might mean smashed avocado on sourdough toast. Or steamed rice with grilled fish, pickles, an onsen egg, natto and a bowl of hot miso soup.

For me, there’s nothing better than a kopitiam breakfast.

An ideal morning ritual begins, when time permits, with the sleep-dismissing aroma of robust kopi hanging in the air, the clatter of porcelain cups against saucers, and bowls of noodles cooked to order.

What better way to truly wake up and greet the day?

One of our favourite kopitiam staples has always been pork noodles.

Humble fare, this, and deeply satisfying at that. The slippery alchemy between broth and noodles. Meat, offal, and if you remember to ask for it, the joyous addition of a single egg.

The stall is located inside Sheng Xing 6363 Food Court, Kajang Prima. — Picture by CK Lim

Today our brekkie pilgrimage takes us to Kajang Prima, to the bustling Sheng Xing 6363 Food Court.

Here, according to locals, the must-try stall is Ah Sheng Pork Noodles.

At the stall, portions of noodles are blanched in wire baskets before being flicked briskly to remove excess water.

Pork slices and innards disappear into bubbling broth for mere seconds, no more, to retain their tender chew.

Sauces are spooned into bowls in swift and smooth movements. Soy sauce, lard oil, and then the noodles are tossed through until every strand gleams.

We order two bowls of dry pork noodles, the way we like it.

You have more options, to alternate between one and the other, when the soup and the noodles come separately.

The former a clear yet flavourful broth carrying pork cuts and leafy greens, while the latter recline in glossy strands beneath their cloak of sauce.

Creamy pork liver and clean-tasting pork intestines. — Picture by CK Lim

What distinguishes a memorable bowl of pork noodles is often the handling of the pork itself.

At Ah Sheng, the minced pork is soft and yielding without becoming mushy, carrying the natural sweetness of fresh meat.

Slices of liver possess that elusive quality so many stalls fail to achieve: creamy rather than chalky, delicate rather than metallic.

The intestine offers gentle resistance, clean-tasting and carefully prepared, while the pork meatballs provide springiness and heft, dense with savoury depth.

The soup does what is required of it, and perhaps that’s enough.

A vessel for the leafy greens and an unexpected slab of tofu. Don’t forget to ask for a poached egg; it’s essential for the last step (more on that later).

Dry pork noodles: one with yellow ‘mee’ and another with ‘hor fun’. — Picture by CK Lim

We try one bowl with yellow mee and another with hor fun. The thin and flat hor fun absorbs the sauces with remarkable speed, every strand becoming slick with savoury richness.

The yellow mee, by contrast, retains more bounce. Its faint alkaline note cuts through the richness, while the sauce pools beneath rather than disappearing entirely into the noodles.

Two bowls of noodles, two different eating experiences. Who knew?

The true pleasure for us, however, lies in the final act, if you will.

Transfer the poached egg from the soup into the bowl of noodles. — Picture by CK Lim

Gently transfer the poached egg from the soup into the bowl of noodles. Pierce the yolk gently with chopsticks and watch it spill languidly across the tangle beneath, gold meeting dark soy and lard oil in a union that feels almost indecently satisfying.

Mix thoroughly, lifting glossy strands towards your mouth, slurping while the yolk still clings warm and thick to the noodles. Heavenly. Ambrosial. Rapturous.

We wash it all down with cups of hot, extra kaw Hainanese kopi. Dark, bold and edged with bitterness — the way it ought to be.

This is the sort of breakfast that does more than fortify; this steadies us for the day ahead and whatever challenges may come. With oil-slicked noodles, tender offal and soul-soothing broth.

Wash it all down with cups of extra ‘kaw’ Hainanese ‘kopi’. — Picture by CK Lim

Ah Sheng Pork Noodles

Located inside Sheng Xing 6363 Food Court,

Jalan KP 1/1,

Taman Kajang Prima, Kajang.

Open daily 7:30am-3pm

Phone: 014-320 7436

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Capital cuisine: Three Beijing restaurants bringing China’s regional cuisines to Beijing’s fine dining tables

Ethan Lau — Thu, 11 Jun 2026 08:35:55 +0800

BEIJING, June 11 — Beijing does not immediately strike one as a culinary destination.

The buildings are towers of glass and steel, the roads wide enough to lose yourself in, and the scale of the city is designed for movement.

It is a capital in the most literal sense — built for business, not pleasure.

Almost everyone I met on this trip had come from somewhere else. Our guide was from Nanjing. A chef from Henan. A waiter from Fujian.

It is a city that has always drawn people in from the vast interior of the country, and they bring their food with them: their ingredients, their techniques, their memories of home.

In a handful of restaurants across the capital, a more deliberate version of that same story unfolds.

Three chefs in three restaurants across Beijing make a serious, meticulous argument for regional Chinese cuisine — not just Beijing’s own, but Cantonese, Sichuanese, and a reimagined version of the capital’s culinary tradition itself.

The restaurants have Michelin stars and are among Asia’s 50 Best. The cooking is precise, refined, and deeply personal.

Taken together, they amount to something that feels brand new, yet rooted in the same traditions.

Historically, ducks were marked with sugar syrup in case of a swap during roasting. Today, Mansion Cuisine by Jingyan encourages guests to write messages on their ducks before roasting (left). Traditional Peking-style grilled lamb, served with a sesame biscuit (right). — Picture by Ethan Lau

Mansion Cuisine by Jingyan

Chef Duan Yu calls his cooking “New Beijing Cuisine”, which is the centrepiece at the Michelin-starred Mansion Cuisine by Jingyan, the crown jewel of his Jingyu Catering Group of restaurants.

Housed in a remodelled siheyuan courtyard near the Lama Temple, the restaurant utilises a modern approach to traditional imperial Beijing cuisine.

Among the dishes that stood out: sea cucumber dressed in a dark, glossy sauce derived from Tianfuhao pork knuckle, 天福号酱肘子, a condiment tracing its history over 280 years to a Shandong shopkeeper who set up in Beijing during the Qing dynasty.

The sea cucumber itself is firm and springy, nothing like the soft, slippery texture that is more prevalent here.

The Peking duck came three ways: first, a thin slice with cliff honey and black truffle, then carved into the traditional 108 slices to preserve the lacquered skin and served with erbajiang, 二八酱, a classic Beijing peanut and sesame paste condiment, and finally, the rest of the duck wok-fried with salt and pepper, and with chillies and scallions.

Peking-style hotpot, also known as shuanyangrou, or instant-boiled mutton, is a pillar of traditional Beijing cuisine.

Lamb from Inner Mongolia is used at Jingyan, with thin slices interwoven with strips of cartilage for a snappy, almost crunchy resistance, cooked quickly in a clear broth with goji berries, and served with two sauces: the first a traditional sesame paste, the second with sand onion, also from Inner Mongolia.

The same cut of lamb is later grilled with onions and coriander and served between sesame biscuits.

Anpu-style poached chicken at The House of Dynasties looks very similar to the white cut chicken we are used to here in Malaysia, but bears a few key differences (left). Instead of soy sauce, oyster brine is used to season the wok-fried beef slices (right). — Picture by Ethan Lau

The House of Dynasties

For most Malaysians — especially those based in Kuala Lumpur — Cantonese food is no mystery.

So of the three restaurants, this was the one I expected to feel most at home in.

And I did, for the most part. But there were moments where the food diverged from anything I knew, and those turned out to be the most interesting moments of the meal.

Chef Justin Tan is from Zhanjiang, a small coastal city in Guangdong whose culinary identity is distinct even within Cantonese cooking.

He made history when T’ang Court at The Langham Shanghai became the first restaurant in mainland China to receive three Michelin stars, in the inaugural 2016 Michelin Guide Shanghai.

Now at Rosewood Beijing’s The House of Dynasties, a restaurant inspired by Dream of the Red Chamber, a classic of Chinese literature, his hometown keeps surfacing on the plate.

The Anpu-style poached chicken rice was the clearest illustration of the distance between what I knew and what I was eating.

The flavour was extraordinarily pure — clean, unadulterated chicken, without the familiar presence of scallion and ginger.

The chicken itself was denser and firmer, none of the slippery, supple texture we are used to here, though the skin had a lovely smooth quality to it.

The Zhanjiang-style fried lobster arrived buried under fermented black beans and garlic, the meat startlingly firm, deeply savoury and impossible to stop eating.

But the dish that left the biggest impression was the simplest: wok-fried beef.

Chef Tan explained that instead of soy sauce, he uses oyster brine — made in-house, one step before it’s reduced all the way down to oyster sauce — for its pure, savoury, briny flavour, showcasing Zhanjiang’s famous oysters.

The husband-and-wife-offal pieces are tingly, spicy and texturally stimulating (left). Steamed Wagyu beef from Shandong with celtuce and Chinese celery, a remarkably refreshing summer Sichuan dish (right). — Picture by Ethan Lau

Chef 1996

This was the restaurant I was most looking forward to. I had seen Fuchsia Dunlop — the writer who is arguably the most authoritative voice on Sichuan cuisine in the English language — visit and share her experience on Instagram, and that was enough.

Here in Malaysia, Sichuan food is having a moment, but it arrives mostly through its loudest exports: the mala hotpot, the numbing heat, the communal spectacle of it.

What I encountered at Chef 1996 was something else entirely.

Chef Dee Liang’s restaurant is private rooms only, situated in an industrial part of Chaoyang.

Like with Chef Duan and his restaurant group, Chef 1996 is the showpiece of the Meizhou Dongpo empire, which has over 100 locations in both China and the United States.

The restaurant’s name is a reference to the year Chef Dee and her husband opened the first location.

It opened in 2023 and by 2026 had entered Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants at No. 52 — the first Sichuan restaurant ever to do so.

The fuqi feipian — husband and wife offal pieces, beef tongue and tripe in spicy numbing oil — was the dish I had been fixating on since seeing it on Dunlop’s Instagram, and it delivered.

The numbing heat was less a wall of sensation than a tingle, like little needles dancing across the tongue, the spice precise and almost delicate.

But the dish that genuinely surprised me was the steamed Shandong Wagyu beef with celtuce and Chinese celery, served with an erjingtiao pepper sauce.

Incredibly fresh and summery, light in a way I had not associated with Sichuan cooking at all — a complete dismantling of my narrow perception of what the cuisine could be.

The familiar heat returned with the braised topmouth culter, a freshwater fish served with rice jelly, pickled chillies and pickled ginger, layering soft, pillowy textures with sharp, tangy spice.

Mansion Cuisine by Jingyan

22 Jianchang Hutong,

Dongcheng, Beijing.

Open daily, 11.30am-2pm, 5.30-10pm

Tel: +86 10 8663 2999

http://www.jingyu2020.com/h-col-118.html

Instagram: @jingyan_beijing

The House of Dynasties

4F, Rosewood Hotel,

Jing Guang Centre, Hujialou,

1 Chaoyangmenwai Street,

Chaoyang, Beijing.

Open daily, 11.30am-2.30pm, 5.30-10pm

Tel: +86 10 6536 0066

https://www.rosewoodhotels.com/en/beijing/dining/the-house-of-dynasties

Chef 1996

4A Jiangtaiwa,

Xinghuo East Road,

Chaoyang, Beijing.

Open daily 11am-2pm, 4.30-11pm

Tel: +86 135 2150 9321

https://chef1996.com/

Instagram: @chef1996restaurant

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Battle for your fast food pizza money: New contender Little Caesars Pizza makes a solid debut at Damansara Utama

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 10 Jun 2026 08:41:42 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 10 — For the longest time, there were only two casual pizza chains that mattered to Malaysians: Pizza Hut and Domino’s.

Briefly for a few years starting in 2009, Papa John’s with its tagline “Better Ingredients. Better Pizza.”, offered a third choice.

In recent years, locally owned brands like US Pizza have tried to get a slice of the pie.

This May, Little Caesars Pizza, touted as the third largest pizza chain in the US with outlets in 30 countries, opened its doors in Damansara Utama, taking over the vacated space that once housed a Family Mart.

Opened since end of May, the outlet took over the space that was once a Family Mart. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

It’s not a name I am personally familiar with but my friend who studied in the state of Michigan where the brand traces its roots, was enthusiastic.

In Malaysia, the brand was brought in by Datuk Vincent Choo and his wife, Datin Cynthia Cheong. Well known as the master franchisor for Subway in Malaysia and Singapore.

Perhaps there’s also a Michigan link as the couple once studied at Eastern Michigan University and their children have followed in their parents’ footsteps to make it their alma mater too.

On the menu, there are 11 large pizzas, divided into three categories: Classic (RM22 each), Specialty (RM29 each) and Extreme (RM34 each).

Nothing beats the Classic Pepperoni Pizza with its spicy salami using beef and cheese. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Since they just opened for business, no service tax is levied at the moment.

Popular pizzas like the Pepperoni and Chicken Hawaiian are labelled as Hot and Ready, meaning the pizzas are prepared ahead and kept warm for a faster takeaway during peak times: 12pm to 2pm and 6pm to 8pm.

BBQ Chicken Pizza (RM29) features chicken and onions complemented by a touch of sweetness from the BBQ sauce.

Because the dough is made fresh, the crust is fluffy on the inside and crisp all around. They also dust the bottom of the pizza with finely grated cheese.

Even when cold and reheated on a hot pan with a little steam from drops of water, it still retains a soft interior with a toasted bottom.

Classic Pepperoni Pizza (RM22) with the slightly spicy beef pepperoni and cheese. There’s also a Loaded Pepperoni Pizza for those who love cured meat.

3 Cheese Edge to Edge Pizza is an alluring combination of cheese and tomato. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

I often struggle with the cornicione or the pizza edge, but with their 3 Cheese Edge to Edge (RM29) where the mozzarella cheese and Parmesan cheese are sprinkled over the edge, I happily munch on the caramelised edges with the toasted cheese.

Crazy Puffs (four pieces for RM9) are revolutionary – the perfect ratio of dough to ingredients like pepperoni, tomato sauce and cheese – and ideal for a quick takeaway meal.

I can see myself buying the Crazy Puffs as a meal-on-the-go since they are easy to carry and eat without fiddling over a slice.

Crazy Puffs Pepperoni are easy-to-handle bites for busy people on the go. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

There are Pepperoni and 3-Cheese flavours to select from.

For more snacks, opt for their Mushroom Soup with the fluffy Crazy Bread (four pieces for RM6.90).

Fluffy Crazy Bread will work with the Mushroom Soup. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Dining inside the eatery is limited so take away your pizza to enjoy at home or the office.

Time will tell if discerning diners can appreciate the difference with this pizza.

Perhaps the best compliment we overheard sets the tone for this pizza place, as one American family walked out the door and declared that Little Caesars Pizza is “a taste of home they had missed”.

Fun posters line the corridor leading to the restaurant's seating area. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Little Caesars Pizza

39G, Jalan SS21/37,

Damansara Utama (Uptown), Petaling Jaya.

Open daily: 10.30am to 11pm

Tel:03-77323923

Website: @my.littlecaesars.com

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

From hotel kitchens to heritage ‘kuih’: Why this former pastry chef is championing handmade ‘ang ku kuih’ and ‘bak chang’

Kenny Mah — Tue, 09 Jun 2026 09:29:31 +0800

PETALING JAYA, June 9 — Some foods survive because they are celebrated. Others endure more quietly, passed down through generations through habit, memory and the hands of those who still make them.

For many Malaysians, traditional kuih belong to the latter category. They appear at family gatherings, festive celebrations and morning markets, familiar enough to be taken for granted.

Yet many of these recipes, once commonplace, are becoming increasingly rare as fewer people learn the labour-intensive skills required to make them.

Among those concerned by this gradual decline was former pastry chef Sam Teoh, 41, whose response was to found KuihMe.

After postgraduate studies in pastry arts in Taiwan, a stint as a commis chef at The Westin Kuala Lumpur and a silver medal at the Malaysian International Baking Confectionery (MIBC) 2008, Teoh had built a respectable career in the pastry world.

KuihMe founder Sam Teoh is a former pastry chef — Pictures courtesy of KuihMe

“I saw how Taiwan elevated its traditional confections — pineapple cakes, mochi, sun cakes — into products the whole country is proud of,” he says.

Beautifully packaged and prominently displayed at airports, hotels and gift shops, these treats had become ambassadors for Taiwanese culture. What Teoh saw back home was a stark contrast.

“When I looked at Malaysia’s kuih scene, I saw something just as rich, just as culturally significant — but stuck at the pasar malam level. Sold in plastic bags. No branding. No story. No pride in the presentation.”

That conviction eventually became KuihMe, a PJ-based business dedicated to preserving and elevating heritage kuih through craftsmanship, natural ingredients and thoughtful presentation.

He says, “KuihMe started not from a business plan on paper, but from a conviction that had been building for years: Malaysian kuih deserves better.”

Of all the traditional kuih Teoh could have chosen, he settled on one of the most recognisable: ang ku kuih.

The tortoise-shell-shaped delicacy, traditionally associated with longevity and blessings, remains a familiar sight at festivals, family gatherings and religious occasions. Yet Teoh believes its future is far from guaranteed.

“It’s quietly disappearing — fewer people make it by hand, and most young Malaysians have never tasted a properly handmade one.”

His pastry training allowed him to approach the classic kuih with a craftsman’s precision. Through repeated adjustments to filling ratios, steaming times and dough hydration, he arrived at the version that now anchors KuihMe’s offerings.

Teoh shares, “Our skin is made primarily from sweet potato, not fully glutinous rice flour, so the texture is softer and lighter.”

Equally important is the company’s commitment to natural ingredients.

He promises, “Every colour you see is extracted from natural plants like beetroot, pandan and black sesame. No artificial colouring, ever.”

Ask Teoh what distinguishes KuihMe from other traditional kuih makers and his answer comes in three parts: “the person, the ingredients, and the craft”.

His professional pastry background, he says, brings a level of technical discipline to the process without compromising authenticity.

“We work with authentic traditional recipes and never take shortcuts.”

‘Chai kuih’ (Teochew steamed savoury dumplings) — Picture courtesy of KuihMe

That philosophy extends to production. Every piece remains individually hand-shaped, despite the efficiencies machinery could offer.

Teoh explains, “Each batch takes about 45 minutes. I could use machines, but I choose not to. The texture of handmade kuih simply cannot be replicated.”

The company’s tagline — 那些差点消失的味道 (or “Taste flavours that have all but disappeared”) — captures the broader mission behind the business.

“We believe heritage food deserves modern pride. It belongs on your table today, not in a museum.”

‘Bak chang’ or Chinese rice dumplings — Picture courtesy of KuihMe

While KuihMe is best known for its ang ku kuih, Teoh has expanded the range to include other heritage foods, including chai kuih (Teochew steamed savoury dumplings) and bak chang or Chinese rice dumplings.

“These bak chang aren’t just seasonal,” he says. “They’re a permanent part of our menu, with Dragon Boat Festival as the peak period.”

KuihMe has two signature rice dumplings: the Ah Ma Salted Chicken and Ah Gong Mui Choy Chicken. (No pork or lard is used.)

Ah Ma Salted Chicken Rice Dumpling — Picture courtesy of KuihMe

Teoh explains, “Ah Ma and Ah Gong — grandmother and grandfather. We wanted that warmth to come through the moment you see the name.”

The former draws inspiration from Teochew traditions while the latter incorporates preserved mustard greens, a flavour profile deeply familiar to many Malaysian Chinese households.

He adds, “Both were developed through a lot of trial — getting the filling ratios, steaming times and wrapping technique right. We use traditional bamboo leaf wrapping tied with twine — the way it’s always been done.”

Yet Teoh notes that the appeal of these foods increasingly transcends ethnic boundaries.

Ah Gong Mui Choy Chicken Rice Dumpling — Picture courtesy of KuihMe

“It’s not just Chinese families buying them. Our Malay and Indian friends enjoy them too. Food in Malaysia has always been a bridge, and I think that’s worth protecting.”

Balancing innovation with authenticity is a challenge faced by many heritage food businesses. Teoh’s guiding principle is straightforward: “Modern presentation, traditional soul.”

The form can evolve, he explains, but the essence must remain intact.

“Think about yam cake and cassava cake — they’ve been around for generations. You can change the shape, the mould, the way you cut and plate it — but the taste must remain.”

For all the effort invested in technique and presentation, the moments that matter most to Teoh are often the simplest.

“The moments that stay with me are when someone takes a bite, goes quiet, and then says — ‘This tastes like my mum’s.’”

Customers are often surprised to discover that the products are made with sweet potato and naturally derived colours. Those moments of discovery frequently become lasting relationships.

One customer, he recalls, buys their ang ku kuih every time she visits her mother.

“It gives them something to talk about. The taste, the memory, the old kitchen.”

For Teoh, those stories have become just as important as sales figures.

“I started KuihMe because I saw a gap in the market — but what I found was a gap in people’s hearts.”

Looking ahead, Teoh’s future plans include corporate gifting, hotel partnerships and collaborations with like-minded brands. The long-term aspiration is even bigger: to see Malaysian heritage food recognised alongside the iconic traditional confections of other countries.

“Japan has wagashi. France has pâtisserie. Taiwan has pineapple cakes. Malaysia has kuih — and it deserves the same respect.”

For Teoh, preserving tradition is not about nostalgia alone. It is about ensuring that these flavours remain part of everyday life — not relics of a disappearing past, but living expressions of Malaysian culture.

How one dinner in Petaling Jaya showed me my ignorance and bias about Sabah

Joan Lau — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 14:08:40 +0800

COMMENTARY, June 8 — You often hear people talk about being transported — to a time or even a place — by something they ate.

Remember that iconic scene in Ratatouille where food critic Anton Ego’s taste memory was triggered after one bite of Remy’s ratatouille?

Well, I had a somewhat similar experience — with a twist — at a dinner in Chipta11A recently. But first, a little about the restaurant for those who are unfamiliar with it.

Helmed by Chef Jack Weldie, it brands itself as a “curated dining restaurant” but since its opening in 2019 it has been known for its Japanese omakase style menu using Japanese-Malaysian ingredients.

And that was exactly my previous experience with Chipta11A. Very Japanese-forward. Not surprising since Chef Jack spent many years working in Japanese restaurants.

Chipta11A is doing something different and remarkable with ‘Borneo Traces’. — Pictures by Jonathan Ooi

Till this recent dining experience called “Borneo Traces” where he takes a totally direction... choosing to go closer to home as he is a Kadazan-Dusun from Sabah.

I thought I was kind of familiar with Sabah. After all, I have been there several times over the years for work.

But what did I know of its cuisine? Sang yoke mian (Sabah pork noodles), Tuaran mee (egg noodles from Tuaran), latok (sea grapes), cheap and fresh seafood and perhaps ngiu chap (beef noodles).

Much of this is Chinese-centric because that was what I saw in Kota Kinabalu... but what of its more traditional food?

I was very proud that I had even heard of and tried some ingredients like tuhau (a wild ginger), midin (a wild jungle fern) and buah kulim (a jungle garlic).

But truth be told, I mostly dismissed these ingredients as not particularly memorable.

How rude and totally ignorant of me, right? I never thought I’d be part of the legion of West Malaysians (peninsular people) the Sarawakians and Sabahans generally despise.

But there it is.

That night, the dinner at Chipta11A just blew my mind... and all my prejudices out of the water.

Every one of the nine courses was thoughtful, delicious and featured ingredients from Sabah. Not in a gratuitous manner just to add it in but fully and creatively used to make a dish.

The mushroom consomme with ‘kodop’ mushroom foam (left) and the pickles course with its wonderful selection (right). — Pictures by Jonathan Ooi

“Borneo Traces” should be experienced and not read about because really, the dinner is like nothing most of us have ever eaten before.

Even if you are from Sabah and familiar with some of the ingredients.

Like the Pickles course: there was sengkuang, losun, palm heart, unripe soursop, mulberry leaf and coconut sprout.

Losun is a wild spring onion native to Sabah, and totally new to me. The whole course was simple, new and so alive.

Or the Mushroom Consomme. How boring on paper but this one with a kodop mushroom foam, mango and fish sauce film was something else.

Kodop is a wild mushroom that grows on rotting rubber tree trunks and is a traditional food in Sabah.

The dish was so refined and yet holds a personal memory for Chef Jack of gathering the mushrooms when he tapped rubber as a young boy back home.

What Chef Jack and his team did is to present his story, his food memories and the ingredients from his homeland in a way us snobby peninsular Malaysians are familiar with: fine dining Western style.

Beautifully plated and presented with explanations that don’t go too long but tell you enough... you will be charmed.

Me? It was a dinner that was at once humbling and revelatory. I now know I know nothing.

Chef Jack Weldie has finally found his voice in “Borneo Traces” and I have been schooled.

* “Borneo Traces” is on till June 30 and costs RM480++ per person.

The early bird catches this top notch bowl of seafood noodles at Kopitiam 818 Restaurant in Taman Sri Bintang, Kepong

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 09:18:40 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 8 — This stall inside Kopitiam 818 Restaurant has a very tight menu.

The focus is on four types of noodles: one with seafood, one with grouper fish, one with fish paste, and one with their Four Season (a mix of stuffed fish paste items) — each bowl designed for different tastes.

After all, everyone has their own personal preferences shaped by their upbringing and even their health status.

A bowl of their dry noodles is decadent: dark-coloured noodle strands laced with lard and topped with fluffy lard fritters plus fried garlic. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Do you prefer your food to have a richer taste, especially with pork lard? Consider ordering a bowl of the Four Season, Grouper or Fish Paste Noodles – dry version laced with finely chopped fried garlic.

Or do you want a clean, milder flavour to gently wake up your stomach after a late night out drinking with friends? Order the seafood noodles with a chicken broth lightly seasoned with rice wine for a comforting bowl.

Perhaps this is the secret to how almost every table has at least one or two customers slurping down this stall’s offerings.

Early in the morning, many come here for breakfast especially those who hike at the nearby Sri Bintang Hill (left). The signage for this corner coffeeshop is barely noticeable as it has faded over time (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Many flock here early in the morning after a hike at the nearby Sri Bintang Hill.

The peak time is usually around 8am, as you will see groups of women walking into the corner coffee shop to find a place to sit after their hike.

The crowd favourite is the Four Season Noodles for RM11 followed by the Fish Paste Noodle (RM10).

Four Season Noodles is the crowd favourite, especially for its stuffed fish paste items made with their homemade paste from mackerel fish and pork. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Both use their homemade fish paste, crafted from a mix of mackerel fish and pork, which gives the filling a fluffier, more flavourful bite.

The Four Season refers to four types of stuffed fish paste items: one where beancurd skin is slathered outside with the fish paste, one stuffed with seaweed and another stuffed with a long, halved piece of shimeji mushroom. The fourth item is usually a repeat.

Beancurd skin is slathered with fish paste on the outside rather than the inside (left). Fluffy fish paste is stuffed with seaweed (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

From what I understand, previously there was one stuffed with fish maw but perhaps due to rising costs, the stall decided to swap it out.

Grouper Fish (RM25) is the obvious choice for its clean taste but I found the sliced fish to be rather overcooked. Perhaps the fish head with its gelatinous bits will be a better choice.

Grouper Fish Noodles uses sliced fish with pungent ginger strips and seaweed. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A decadent Seafood Noodle (RM14) was my last choice but it turned out to be a big success because the broth was enhanced with a slight sweetness from the wine.

Also unusual was the use of the tiny ‘remis’ clams, found on the beach, which give the broth a sweet undertone.

Select from a vast choice of seafood at the stall with ‘remis’ clams, prawns, grouper fish (left) and flower crabs, ‘sotong’ and pomfret fish (right). — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

You also get three prawns with a fresh bite rather than the artificially crunchy type and fish paste, in the bowl topped with strips of young ginger.

Underpinning each bowl is a clear, flavourful chicken broth slowly cooked for 10 hours using chicken carcasses.

Every bowl is topped with a piece of seaweed to drive away any fishy smells.

Most eaters label fish or seafood noodles as boring because they are usually just a clear broth option, but this stall adds a naughty element with its dry noodles, which are liberally tossed with lard and even topped with fluffy lard fritters and fried garlic.

The stall is located at the front of the second shoplot for this restaurant. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Since they sell out between 10am and 11am, visit early for a larger selection of the fresh seafood.

Seafood Noodles Stall

Kopitiam 818 Restaurant

No. 1, Jalan Seri Bintang 3,

Taman Sri Bintang, Kepong.

Open: 6am to 11am or until food finishes. Days off are not fixed.

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Capital cuisine: Two Beijing restaurants pushing the boundaries of modern Chinese fine dining

Ethan Lau — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 12:10:19 +0800

BEIJING, June 7 — There is a version of Chinese fine dining that the world has long been sold: elaborate banquet halls, exotic ingredients like shark’s fin, lazy Susans the size of a small satellite dish, and a deep reverence for tradition.

Beijing, as the country’s capital for eight centuries, has perhaps been an unlikely, yet historically fitting custodian of this idea.

The city’s culinary identity has long been defined by the grandeur of its past: the Forbidden City’s kitchens, the Qing dynasty’s elaborate court cuisine, and, of course, Peking duck, the roasted icon of Chinese cuisine that’s recognised the world over.

But the fine dining landscape in Beijing in 2026 couldn’t look more different.

The buzzy Sanlitun area in the city’s Chaoyang district is filled with restaurants, bars, and what I call monuments to consumerism: huge multi-storey standalone boutiques for brands like Dior, Hermès and Louis Vuitton.

At one point, it was also home to the world’s largest Adidas store.

Amid all of this, two restaurants are pushing the boundaries of what modern Chinese fine dining looks like, in ways that could hardly be more different from each other.

Old Tower

Despite the name, Old Tower is a relatively new restaurant that opened only in September last year.

The name has two meanings: it is a reference to Beijing’s Bell and Drum towers, and it is also the Chinese nickname for its chef, Talib Hudda, 老塔, lao ta, literally meaning “old” and “tower”.

Hudda’s résumé reads like that of a chef destined for a different city entirely.

Chef Talib Hudda, a native of Edmonton, Canada, arrived in Beijing 11 years ago and has been cooking in China ever since (left). The 栲栳栳 ‘kao lao lao’ course, which sees a buckwheat rendition of a traditional oat noodle from Shaanxi done in a ‘macaroni and cheese’ preparation (right). — Pictures courtesy of Old Tower

Trained in Copenhagen at Marchal and Marv & Ben, kitchens where modern French and Nordic approaches dominate, the Canadian arrived in China over a decade ago, cutting his teeth at The Georg in Beijing before eventually opening Refer, his first restaurant, in Sanlitun.

Weaving together Chinese produce with a Nordic-inspired approach, Refer became the first restaurant in Beijing to land on the Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

Old Tower is his second act in the same neighbourhood. With Refer behind him, Hudda turns his attention to a more specific argument: that Northern China’s ingredients, many of them sourced from rural areas and fishing grounds that rarely make it onto fine dining menus, are undervalued and ripe for reinvention.

The pescatarian menu that results is neither European nor Chinese, shaped by 11 years of eating his way through this country’s larder.

What ties it together is a consistent respect for traditional technique and the original character of each ingredient, with influences that stretch well beyond any single culinary tradition.

That shows up in the details.

The yellow corn chawanmushi arrives with conch, roasted kohlrabi, Sichuan chilli oil, and a finish of Austrian pumpkin seed oil, with cornbread on the side — corn being one of the most important agricultural products in northern China.

The 栲栳栳 kao lao lao, a traditional noodle from Shaanxi, is reimagined as macaroni and cheese with 36-month-aged Comté and a wild mushroom ragù made from 台蘑 tai mo, a prized wild mushroom from Mount Wutai in Shanxi.

The grilled dry-aged pomfret belly comes with a seasonal Chinese vegetable that Hudda introduces to the table as “not asparagus, but like asparagus”, which tells you something about both his sense of humour and his relationship with the produce he works with.

The eclectic playlist, curated by the staff and jumping from Al Green to The xx, Springsteen to Men I Trust, reflects the creative, free-flowing spirit of the restaurant’s cuisine.

The corn course, designed to showcase one of Northern China’s most important crops, utilises sea urchin and conch from the Bohai Sea (left). The grilled dry-aged pomfret is paired with a summer vegetable that tastes remarkably similar to asparagus (right). — Picture by Ethan Lau

Lamdre

Lamdre takes its name from a Tibetan Buddhist meditative system, one that holds that the path and the result are inseparable — which sounds, on paper, designed to woo a certain kind of diner.

By the end of the meal, it feels less presumptuous than it did at the start.

It is a fully vegan restaurant, having made the shift from vegetarian in November 2025.

It is also one of the most decorated kitchens in Beijing, holding two Michelin stars and ranked No. 17 on Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants in 2026, the only Beijing entry on that list.

Headed by chef Dai Jun and opened in late 2022 by owner Zhao Jia, the restaurant’s rise has been built on a guiding philosophy that Zhao articulates simply: “中国是世界的花园” — China is the garden of the world.

Dai Jun’s path here was, by his own admission, accidental.

Classically trained in Cantonese and Chaozhou cooking, he went for an interview at King’s Joy, Beijing’s pioneering vegetarian fine dining institution, only to discover mid-conversation that the kitchen served no meat.

He took the job anyway, and the rest of his career followed from that moment.

At Lamdre, the menu leans on lesser-seen native Chinese produce, and the kitchen’s seasonal focus shifts by region.

On this visit, the menu drew from Fujian, with influences ranging from Fujianese to Fuzhounese to Hakka cuisine.

One course brings together bamboo shoots marinated in red rice lees and grilled, pickled radish, and Chinese toon with broad bean sauce.

The presentation at Lamdre is part of the entire experience: the bamboo shoot course is presented in a garden of various leaves and herbs (left). Dumplings, but without the wheat: filled with rapeseed blossoms, mushrooms and turnips, these dumplings are made from winter melon. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Another arrives as a dumpling, though not as one might expect: the wrapper is winter melon rather than wheat, filled with rapeseed blossoms, turnip, mushroom and olive, and served with basil sauce and fermented sweet pepper sauce.

What both restaurants share, beyond the same postcode, is a conviction that Chinese ingredients and traditions are not a constraint to work around, but the whole point — and that there is still plenty left to say about them.

Note: While Baidu Maps remains the most reliable way to navigate China, it can be a challenge for users who can’t read Chinese. Fortunately, there is an English alternative specifically for Beijing, available at https://web.beijingmap.cn/

Old Tower

4th Floor, Building N4,

Taikoo Li North Area,

Chaoyang, Beijing.

Open Wednesday to Sunday, 6-10pm

Tel: +86 139 1020 8150

https://www.oldtower.cn/

Instagram: @oldtower_beijing

Lamdre

Room 01, 1F, Block 14,

Courtyard 4, Gongti North Road,

Chaoyang, Beijing.

Open daily, 11.30am-1.30pm, 6-10pm. Closed on Tuesdays.

Tel: +86 010 8597 8888

Instagram: @lamdre_beijing

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

Cheras Batu 11’s hidden Hakka mee treasure: Rich and gelatinous, these braised pork trotters noodles are worth the hunt

Kenny Mah — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 09:34:41 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 6 — It’s one of those discoveries that sneaks up on you: a near hidden kopitiam looking like a makeshift shack, with ageing paint on the walls and weather-worn wooden tables. The insistent hum of industrial engines in the distance.

Yet the more humble the location, the better the food, or so I have found over the years.

The signage announces that the food court is called Madam Koor Kitchen.

Tucked away at Cheras Batu 11, the stall offering Hakka mee with braised pork trotters is the reason to hunt this place down.

The Hakka mee stall is located inside Madam Koor Kitchen, Cheras Batu 11. — Picture by CK Lim

The trotters are slow-braised in a fragrant concoction of light and dark soy sauce, star anise, garlic, ginger and a hint of rice wine.

The meat is tender enough to fall off the bone with the slightest prod of my chopsticks.

The skin, resilient yet gelatinous, adds a chew that is somehow comforting. Each bite yielding layers of flavour that make the rich, slightly sweet braising gravy feel like an unctuous embrace.

The noodles themselves are handmade with egg, smooth and springy. Perfect for soaking up that glorious braising liquid.

Lemon barley water and Hainanese ‘kopi’. — Picture by CK Lim

Drinks are basic but restorative. We had lemon barley water, tart and refreshing in that healing, old-school way, and Hainanese kopi, strong and black enough to cut through the mid-afternoon lull.

Pair these beverages with the gelatinous and well-braised pork trotters, and you have a truly magnificent meal.

Every forkful is a combination of texture and aroma, the pork and noodles entwined in a harmony that makes you pause, mid-bite, just to appreciate the craft.

Gelatinous and well-braised, truly a magnificent meal. — Picture by CK Lim

Simple, yes, but lip-smacking all the same.

The rest of the menu is excellent too. Braised pork rib noodles and braised duck drumstick noodles share the same careful slow-braising technique; the duck meat, tender to the point of surrendering with a gentle kiss, has an herbal, earthy aroma.

For those craving lighter textures, shredded chicken koay teow soup and chicken drumstick koay teow soup offer the clarity of a well-made broth, comforting in its restraint.

The fiery and fragrant chilli Hakka mee. — Picture by CK Lim

Then there’s the call of the classics: the dry Hakka noodles with minced pork, aromatic and deeply satisfying, or the chilli Hakka mee, which I prefer for its fiery, fragrant punch.

The dried shrimp garnish is not merely decorative: it’s pungent, crunchy, and entirely moreish, giving the chilli noodles a playful counterpoint to the heat.

What struck me most wasn’t just the food; it was the rhythm of the place. Office workers, mechanics, and factory hands share the same tables, each bite a brief reprieve from their day.

Extraordinary food doesn’t always need sophistication in its surroundings; sometimes it just needs craft and consistency, and you don’t require a Michelin star to achieve that.

Extraordinary food doesn’t always need sophistication in its surroundings. — Picture by CK Lim

My final advice: come early. The braised pork trotters sell out fast, and with them, your chance at this Hakka revelation.

But even if you arrive later, the traditional Hakka noodles and whatever is left of the braising gravy — an elixir worth bottling up, if you asked me — make it worth the journey.

As we are flooded with new openings and trend-led cafés, it’s reassuring to find something that reminds us why uncomplicated, well-made food still matters.

Braised Pork Trotters Hakka Mee 客家佬猪手面 (Cheras Batu 11)

1, Jalan Indah 2/7,

Taman Indah, Cheras (located inside Madam Koor Kitchen)

Phone: 016-289 0239

Open daily (except Fri closed) 7am-2pm

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Scarborough Fish & Chips in Tanjung Rhu, Langkawi: Great fish and chips and the best seat on the beach

Ethan Lau — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 13:13:55 +0800

LANGKAWI, June 5 — When I was 12 years old, my parents took me to Langkawi for the very first time.

It was a short trip, only three days, but it has stayed with me for the longest time because of two significant milestones, or as the kids like to call them, core memories.

I had my first beer (marvellous), and for the first time in my life, I enjoyed a plate of fish and chips on the beach, sitting under the hot tropical sun and gazing at the brilliant blue waters of the Andaman.

At the time, I thought it was the greatest fish and chips I’d ever had.

But if you asked me to recall any details about the dish, from the texture of the batter to the flavour of the fish, I couldn’t tell you a single thing.

What I can tell you is the feeling of soft, white sand between my toes; the length of untouched, pristine beach that I ran up and down; the sky-blue waters that matched the colour of the restaurant, and the salty ocean breeze in my hair.

We were at Scarborough Fish & Chips in Tanjung Rhu, a name I wouldn’t forget for the next 14 years.

I went back twice, in 2015 and 2018, but last month I went back for the fourth time to find that much has changed.

Get here early. The sun on the Andaman at mid-morning is something else entirely, even during the rainy season. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The world in 2012 was very different: Gangnam Style was the biggest song in the world, Facebook held its IPO with shares closing at US$38.23, a figure that feels almost quaint today, and many thought the world would come to an end thanks to a widely held misconception about the Mayan calendar.

This end of Langkawi, too, was vastly different. Apart from two sprawling resorts, Scarborough stood mostly alone on hundreds of metres of untouched beach.

Now, it is flanked by numerous restaurants and homestays, all grabbing onto every last bit of beachfront space left.

The restaurant itself hasn’t changed much, thankfully. There’s a fresh coat of blue paint and a few new sun loungers, but otherwise the space still holds the same relaxed feel.

Time truly moves differently here, whether it’s mid-morning and the sun is still on its way up, or in the evening when the sun is setting over the horizon.

A fresh coat of blue paint and a few new sun loungers, but still the same relaxed island feel. — Picture by Ethan Lau

The fish and chips (RM35) still come with the same fat steak-cut chips, two golden fillets of barramundi (skin on!) in a light, crispy batter, a very decent salad, and the tartar sauce is just as I remember it: horribly sweet.

It really is the only let-down in an otherwise top-notch plate of fish and chips.

The good thing is, both the fish and chips are salted to perfection; inside the batter is moist, flaky flesh; and the salad is dressed with a basic but adequate vinaigrette.

Squeeze the thick wedge of lemon all over, or if you prefer, a drizzle of malt vinegar, and it’s the complete package, no tartar sauce required.

Add in an ice-cold beer or two (RM8 for Tiger draught), a vista as gorgeous as nature permits, and I felt like my 12-year-old self again, bowled over and dreaming of returning.

And I hope there will be a return.

Inside the light, crispy batter: moist, flaky barramundi, salted to perfection. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Scarborough turns 16 this year, I learned from the friendly staff who served us. He’s worked there for 14 years, and he says he’s never seen tourism in Langkawi plummet as it has in recent years.

He recalled a time when people had to make bookings to get a table; now, on a long weekend, we and two other tables were the first few customers they’d had in a while.

It’s a recurring theme I see and hear all over the island, but especially up in Tanjung Rhu.

“It’s quiet,” everyone from hostel to hotel owners, bar and restaurant operators repeat to us. Too quiet.

The sign as seen from the road, still standing after 16 years. — Picture by Ethan Lau

Scarborough Fish & Chips

Lot 1388, Jalan Tanjung Rhu,

Mukim Air Hangat,

Langkawi, Kedah.

Open daily, 10am-10pm

Tel: 04-959 4667

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.

From ‘pulut hitam’ cheese tart to ‘kacang tumbuk’ bundt, homegrown bakes shine at Manis by WildFlour in Shah Alam

Kenny Mah — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 09:34:03 +0800

SHAH ALAM, June 4 — “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/By any other word would smell as sweet.”

The Bard had it right, perhaps, in his iconic play, Romeo and Juliet, but I wonder if a cake or kuih by any other name would taste as manis?

This feels like the appropriate question for the sweetly named Manis by WildFlour, a bakery-café in Section 6, Shah Alam.

For co-founder Shazana Shukor, the connection began long before she ever considered running a café.

“I grew up in a very food obsessed family,” she says. “We love cooking and eating out and plan holidays around where we would get to eat.”

As a child, Shazana worked her way through cookbooks and recipes clipped from magazines, encouraged by parents who treated her culinary curiosity seriously.

By the age of 12, they were buying her kitchen tools; at 15, she had her own cupboard dedicated to baking equipment.

“I loved trying out recipes and learning about different cooking techniques and my family was happy to be my test subjects,” she recalls.

Laksa Nyonya. — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

Today Shazana has something more precious than test subjects. Regulars to Manis by WildFlour all have their favourite dishes, be it the savoury and punchy Laksa Nyonya or the nostalgia-meets-storybook charms of their Pulut Hitam Cheese Tart.

Shazana’s path towards hospitality was not immediate, however. In the beginning, administrative positions sharpened her organisational skills.

Human resources and training roles taught her how to build systems for hiring and retaining staff. Later, working as an assistant head chef immersed her in the mechanics of food and beverage operations.

“I didn’t always know that I would end up running my own café,” she says, “but when I look back, every role I’ve taken on was preparing me for this.”

Her husband and business partner, Nurudin Mohamad — better known as Din — arrived at the industry from a different direction.

Before joining the business full-time, he worked in engineering, though the idea of running an F&B establishment lingered in the background for years.

“What kept pulling me back was my passion for people,” he says. “Customer service, building relationships, making someone’s experience memorable.”

The decisive moment came during the Covid-19 pandemic, when redundancy forced a reassessment of priorities.

“For me, it felt like a signal, this was just God nudging me to finally act on it,” Din says.

Pulut Hitam Cheese Tart. — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

Today, their responsibilities divide naturally. Shazana oversees the kitchen and the food itself, while Din manages marketing, collaborations and customer engagement.

“And none of it would feel the same without her,” he says. “The chemistry that we share.”

The WildFlour name first appeared in 2020 during the uncertainty of lockdowns. At the time, Shazana was selling sourdough bread and quiches from home, trying to generate enough income to weather the pandemic economy.

“WildFlour started as a play on words,” she explains, “as my main product was sourdough, wild yeasts and flour were the foundation.”

What began as necessity gradually evolved into something more substantial. A turning point arrived when her former employer and mentor, Basira Yeusuff, who had since relocated to Seoul, invited Shazana to continue producing her signature bundt cakes.

“I was honoured that she trusted me enough to have her cakes on my menu,” says Shazana.

The cakes helped expand WildFlour’s audience over the following years, though success eventually created a different set of logistical problems.

Their one-bedroom apartment became increasingly overwhelmed by at-home production, just as customers were returning to dining out post-pandemic and online sales began to soften.

When a rental space became available near their neighbourhood, the couple decided to commit to a physical café. — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

When a rental space became available near their neighbourhood in Shah Alam, the couple decided to commit fully to a physical café.

The name Manis emerged during the planning stages. Observing that much of their clientele would likely come from the surrounding Malay community, particularly older residents, Shazana wanted a name that felt familiar and immediate.

“We settled on Manis and in order to differentiate ourselves and tie it back to the original business it became Manis by WildFlour,” she says.

That sense of familiarity extends to the menu, where comfort food is often nudged gently in more contemporary directions.

Shazana speaks less about trends than about flavours she genuinely enjoys cooking for family and friends.

“I’m always drawn to fun flavours,” she says. “A lot of the recipes are foods I would make for my family.”

The bundt cakes remain among the café’s defining offerings, each catering to a different palate.

The Limau Nipis Bundt leans bright and citrusy; the Earl Grey variation carries floral, fragrant notes; while the Kacang Tumbuk version balances sweetness with salt and nuttiness.

Preparing the Limau Nipis Bundt (left). The Kacang Tumbuk Bundt (right). — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

(So, harking back to our earlier question, cakes by any name might taste as sweet... though perhaps more manis if baked by Manis by WildFlour, yes?)

Another signature item, the Mont Blanc coffee, traces its origins to Melbourne’s café scene.

“I first came across the Mont Blanc when it was trending in the Melbourne coffee scene,” Shazana says, “and I just love the combination of citrus, cream and coffee.”

Introducing it locally at an early stage helped secure its place on their varied coffee menu before similar drinks became more widespread.

Running a café, however, rarely allows much room for romanticism. Staffing shortages, fluctuating customer traffic and operational pressures remain constant considerations. Shazana approaches these challenges pragmatically.

“A rule my lecturers drilled into us is ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, what matters is how you overcome it’,” she says.

The response, she explains, is always adjustment rather than panic.

“If there’s not enough staff, I make the menu smaller. If there’s a slow month, we plan content or promos or take the opportunity to focus on training and deep cleaning.”

One principle remains fixed throughout: “The only thing we do not do is compromise on quality.”

Their varied coffee menu includes their signature Mont Blanc (right). — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

Operating with a lean team and comparatively lower overheads in Shah Alam has also given them greater flexibility than cafés operating in more expensive districts.

Looking back, Shazana summarises her broader philosophy with characteristic brevity.

“My guiding principle is ‘It’s not that deep’,” she says.

It is less dismissive than it sounds. She describes a tendency to overanalyse trends or second-guess whether an idea will translate commercially, only to discover that some of their most popular dishes emerged from spontaneous experimentation.

Seasonal favourites have become part of their repertoire, such as the Thai-inspired Tomyum Chicken Quiche at the start of the year or the festive Golden Huat Bundt — a limau kasturi and pineapple butter cake, finished with pineapple cream cheese — developed for Chinese New Year.

“People just love food that’s real and familiar,” Shazana explains.

The same perspective now informs how she navigates setbacks, whether difficult suppliers or staffing complications.

“It’s easy to spiral but I’ve learned to pause, ask what can we do better next time and move forward. Holding on too tight doesn’t serve the business.”

As for the future, the couple are thinking less about aggressive expansion than about deepening their role within the neighbourhood itself.

Seasonal favourites: Tomyum Chicken Quiche (left) and Golden Huat Bundt (right). — Picture courtesy of Manis by WildFlour

Collaborations and community events have shown them that customers increasingly value spaces designed for gathering.

“The events and collaborations we’ve done showed us people are looking for spaces that bring them together,” says Shazana. “And we want to keep creating those moments.”

There are plans for breakfast service eventually, with hopes of opening earlier and becoming part of customers’ daily routines.

Yet beneath the operational ambitions lies a simpler aspiration for what Manis by WildFlour might ultimately become.

“What I really hope for Manis is for it to become a place you can retreat to,” she says, “somewhere warm, familiar and reliable. The kind of place where you walk in and feel at ease.”

Manis by WildFlour

5G-4, Jalan Cenderawasih 6/7,

Section 6, Shah Alam.

Open daily (except Sun closed) 10am-7pm

Phone: 017-240 9690

IG: https://www.instagram.com/manisbywildflour/

Bangsar’s Cafe de Tukche will transport you to Nepal with its Thakali Thali set and Mo:Mo

Lee Khang Yi — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 08:47:59 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 3 — Many years ago, I encountered Nepalese food here, cooked by a friend who introduced me to the magical world of Mo:Mo.

Yes, the dumplings are known as Mo:Mo, which is already the plural form, but most articles wrongly label them as “momos”.

Appearance-wise, the Mo:Mo resemble Chinese dumplings but the difference is evident the moment you bite into one, as the meat and vegetable filling is seasoned with fragrant spices like cumin, coriander and garlic.

Usually served steamed, pan-fried, or deep-fried, they are paired with a spicy, tomato-based dip called achar.

So, Mo:Mo was the first dish I looked for when I stumbled upon Cafe de Tukche.

Thakali Thali set offers a look at the daily meals, providing a little of everything. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The half-moon-shaped dumplings come in different fillings — chicken, mutton, paneer or vegetables — and you can get them steamed, deep-fried, pan-fried, or paired with soup.

Steamed Chicken Mo:Mo (RM20) were juicy bites given a layer of spiciness from the achar and their homemade chilli sauce.

While the Mo:Mo is the most identifiable item for most of us, locals in Nepal especially the Thakali community primarily eat the Thakali Thali set.

The complete meal served on a metal plate is built up with various components and the price ranges from RM24 to RM36.

The main component is a choice of rice or their version of porridge known as dhindo, which is thick and not watery at all, made with buckwheat flour (phaper), wheat flour (ata) or pumpkin (farsi).

Chicken Sandheko is an appetising item that you will enjoy finishing. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

It’s drizzled with ghee to smoothen it so gladly welcome the clarified butter that pools on top. Apparently in Nepal, the ghee also acts as a warming touch in the chilly weather.

A choice of curry (I picked mutton), dal made from black beans, seasonal mixed vegetables, sautéed spinach, tomato pickle, radish pickle, mustard greens with roasted black soybeans, fried bitter gourd, Sichuan potatoes, fresh salad, papad and yogurt.

It may resemble an Indian thali but there’s a distinct difference.

Himalayan spices like jimun and timur (their version of Sichuan peppercorn) shine, creating a combination of earthy, mildly spicy and tangy flavours as these are not dulled by rich coconut milk like Indian curries.

Decked in colourful prayer flags and murals, the restaurant is the ideal place to hide from the afternoon heat. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Each meal allows you to refill each of the items until you are satiated.

You can add another protein like the Chicken Sandheko (RM21.25), which features spicy, tangy flavours and is served with boneless deep-fried chicken.

While the chicken was a tad dry from overfrying, the flavours were appetising enough that you would still eat it.

Decorated with colourful Tibetan prayer flags, the restaurant is also the perfect cool retreat from the brutal afternoon sun and its heat, when you dine there for lunch.

It turns out the restaurant is part of the Clifftop Group, which also oversees various bars in TREC and The Met, Jhol Restaurant and Le Mirch.

The signboard is rather small but you can spot it once you start walking down from McDonald’s to Bangsar Village. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Cafe de Tukche

4, Jalan Telawi 4,

Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily: 12pm to 12am

Tel: 012-5994528

Instagram: @cafedetukchethakalikl

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

For a cool, not too sweet treat, visit The Five’s Jogak Bingsu, Damansara Heights

Lee Khang Yi — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 12:27:11 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, June 1 — The weather has been very indecisive, featuring fierce sunshine that always causes a rainstorm as the heat from below hits the clouds above.

When the heat is up, the only solution is to either lock yourself inside or venture out to The Five for a taste of “snow” in the form of bingsu.

Misugaru Dol Bing makes a healthier version as the ‘misugaru’ uses a mix of good-for-you grains. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Jogak Bingsu started by the same people behind Michin Grill is located right outside Nom Nom East, the small food court inside Block D of The Five.

You can enjoy your bingsu and hotteok orders in three spots near their stand: the food court, directly in front of their kiosk and tables on the balcony facing the carpark.

Snack on the popular Korean street treat ‘hotteok,’ which has a chewy texture. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Each choice depends on the timing and your heat tolerance.

The air-conditioned food court is the best choice during peak lunch time, while the scenic outdoor areas are better in the evening after sunset.

The shaved ice dessert uses soy milk and no added sugar, keeping it lighter for those who dislike overly sweet treats.

Misugaru Dol Bing (RM23) is a classic Korean flavour found in beverages and even bingsu.

The traditional version of ‘hotteok’ has a gooey filling of brown sugar and honey. —Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The malty, nutty powder, made from a mix of roasted and ground grains, oats, barley and even quinoa is touted as nutritious.

Your bingsu is served in a stone bowl to keep it chilled and is accompanied by a small bowl of extra topping.

Look for their place just in front of Nom Nom East’s entrance. —Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The extra powder adds flavour once you eat the top layer, letting you customise how strong you want your dessert to taste.

It comes with cooked red beans that are soft and not overly sweet.

Matcha Dol Bing (RM24) uses a matcha syrup drizzled over it but since it was peak lunchtime when I visited, they seem to have forgotten the extra layer of matcha powder for my order, making the flavours feel muted.

Seats can be found in front of the stall, which transforms at night to a cool place to chill as you enjoy your shaved ice dessert. —Picture by Lee Khang Yi

There are also cup versions, great for a quick fix to take away to the office or home.

Don’t forget to snack on their Hong Dae Hotteok (RM9.90) too.

It’s a favourite street snack of mine and they offer three versions, one with the brown sugar and honey, one with added nuts and a pandan flavoured option.

Tables and chairs are found all over The Five and these ones offer a view of the goings-on below. —Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Jogak Bingsu

Level 1 (Next to Nom Nom East),

Block D, The Five @KPD

Jalan Dungun, Kuala Lumpur.

Open: 12pm to 8.30pm (Tuesday to Friday), 12.30pm to 9.30pm (Saturday and Sunday). Closed on Monday.

Instagram: @jogakbingsu

*This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

No such thing as a free lunch: The problem with influencers as ‘food reviewers’ in Malaysia

Ethan Lau — Sun, 31 May 2026 08:49:21 +0800

COMMENTARY, May 31 — My frustration begins where it often has, lately: an Instagram post.

On their profile, MalaysianPAYGAP, a community initiative for salary transparency in Malaysia, posted a short clip with Ming Chun, one of Malaysia’s more prominent food influencers who has successfully carved out a niche for himself as a self-appointed ayam gepuk “connoisseur”.

For the uninitiated, it is a dish of fried and smashed chicken, typically paired with a spicy sambal, cashew nut paste, fried cabbage and tempeh, and it is taking the Klang Valley by storm — especially with the younger crowd.

The clip is an excerpt from a long-form video that takes viewers behind the scenes of his work routine, with an emphasis on the unique aspects of being a content creator, and his pivot from ayam gepuk tastemaker to launching his own brand, Gepuklah.

In it, he explains the financial reality of being a “food reviewer”, speaking with genuine candour about his first “review”, where he received RM1,500 for a post when he had 6,000 followers.

And he’s not alone. He continues by breaking down the average market rate for “food reviews”: at 10,000 followers, a video is anywhere from RM200 to RM1,000.

At 60,000 followers, between RM4,000 and RM5,000.

At 100,000 followers, a video can fetch up to RM8,000.

Except… this isn’t reviewing.

It’s advertising, and the distinct separation of the two has defined how we consume everything, from restaurants and bars to books, movies and music for years.

In the past, the two co-existed side by side: restaurants advertised to diners, and diners knew they could rely on trusted, independent reviews to make informed decisions.

But the advent of social media and the rise of the influencer have blurred those lines.

Yes, media invites and press trips have always existed, and this is the pay-to-play cycle of the social media age. It’s nothing new.

But make no mistake: this is advertising. The language of rates, reach, and exposure belongs in a boardroom, not a newsroom.

There is nothing editorial about it.

I want to be clear. Advertising is vital for any restaurant, and doing so online is even more crucial in today’s algorithm-ruled world.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with a business wanting to advertise, and there is nothing wrong with providing businesses with that service.

But there is something fundamentally wrong when advertising becomes not just synonymous with authority, but replaces it.

It fills the vacuum left behind by independent criticism — the kind that is valuable precisely because it demands distance, and costly because that distance must be maintained.

Real editorial independence is expensive. It requires time, money, and a level of commitment that few publications are willing or able to sustain.

Institutions such as The New York Times can afford to send reviewers back to the same restaurant multiple times over weeks or even months, paying for every meal while going to great lengths to preserve anonymity so that each experience mirrors that of any ordinary diner.

Independence is not simply a matter of disclosure or good intentions. It is a system built to ensure that praise is earned, not purchased.

In Malaysia, that kind of infrastructure is understandably rare. Most restaurant coverage takes place through invited tastings and hosted meals.

No money may change hands, but the exchange is no less real.

Restaurants put forward their best dishes, extend their warmest hospitality, and in return can reasonably expect favourable coverage.

It is not always a matter of bad faith, nor even deliberate compromise.

Often, it is simply the reality of a media ecosystem with limited resources and little commercial incentive to fund independent criticism.

Disclosure alone does not resolve the issue, because the problem is not secrecy but the structural incentive created when payment is tied to praise — or when access depends on goodwill.

The reality is that most readers do not seem particularly troubled by this.

For many, a recommendation is simply a recommendation, regardless of the conditions under which it was made. They are only looking for their next place to eat.

But independence was never meant to be convenient, popular, or profitable.

Writers hold on to it not because audiences always demand it, but because the work loses its meaning without it.

This is true not only of food writing, but of all journalism.

The moment we stop insisting on that separation — however imperfectly, however expensively — is the moment we surrender the very thing that makes criticism worth reading in the first place.

“I know it’s all paid for, but I don’t care. I just use it to find places to eat. Doesn’t matter lah.”

I hear this line time and time again. It is a sentiment shared by many, from family to friends to friends of friends.

Except it does matter, and you, the diner, should care, because it is the diner who pays the price when the only way for a restaurant to be discovered is through a faux review.

Literally, because the cost of these videos has to go somewhere — and it invariably finds its way onto your bill.

Figuratively, because what we lose when we no longer care about blatant advertising dressed up as genuine reviews is much, much more than a few extra ringgit.

When authority on food can be bought and paid for, everybody loses — restaurants, diners and everybody in between.

Well, everybody except the advertisers. Being discerning about where you dine and where you spend your hard-earned money becomes much harder without unbiased, independent reviews.

When we stop caring whether recommendations are bought and paid for, credibility and integrity do not merely become secondary to advertising dollars. They are replaced by them.

Restaurants are no longer incentivised to offer a better product to attract diners. Why spend time and money improving your food in the hope that quality alone will bring people through the door, when you can simply pay someone to sing its praises in a 60-second video?

The result is a dining landscape that looks, smells and tastes like an ocean of mediocrity, propped up by the well-paid gatekeepers of said mediocrity.

As legendary film critic Pauline Kael wrote in 1971, in The New Yorker, “Without a few independent critics, there’s nothing between the public and the advertisers.”

Today, in Malaysia, in 2026, that separation can hardly be felt.

*This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.

*Find Ethan Lau on Instagram here: @eatenlau

Skip the lines at crowded chains for fresh handmade ‘dim sum’ at Liew’s Bao Dian in Taman OUG

Kenny Mah — Sun, 31 May 2026 07:00:00 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, May 31 — What a sublime first spoonful: rice cooked down to a silken blur, steaming gently beneath shards of dark century egg and ribbons of minced pork.

This is the century egg and pork porridge at Liew’s Bao Dian in Taman OUG. Each mouthful is soft and savoury, the preserved egg lending its mineral depth while the pork adds a subtle sweetness that lingers at the back of the palate.

Known primarily for their longevity buns (more on these later), Liew’s Bao Dian has quietly built a loyal following among families planning birthdays, weddings and festive celebrations.

Yet limiting this humble shop to ceremonial buns alone would be missing the point entirely.

The irony is that despite its hidden gem reputation, the shop itself is almost impossible to overlook.

The vibrant yellow and tangerine hues of the shop’s exterior. — Picture by CK Lim

Even given the ever-bustling streets of Taman OUG, Liew’s Bao Dian stands out; its storefront glows in vivid yellow and cheerful tangerine tones.

Most customers probably know them for frozen packs of dumplings and baos stacked neatly for takeaway.

Fewer realise you can simply sit down and enjoy everything fresh from the kitchen.

While many KL diners resign themselves to long lines at popular dim sum chains, Liew’s Bao Dian offers what I consider a far better more proposition: handmade baos and dim sum prepared fresh daily, minus the inflated prices and marathon waiting times.

The menu is broader than I expected, given their focus on longevity buns and frozen dumpling packs.

True, you won’t find gimmicky creations such as mayo shrimp balls or truffle dumplings, but maybe that is a good thing.

In its stead: a sensible degree of restraint. Meaning the focus here is on freshness and familiarity.

Shrimp ‘siew mai’. — Picture by CK Lim

You can’t go wrong, for instance, with the shrimp siew mai. Classics for a reason, these open-faced dumplings taste well-seasoned, the filling springy with none of the unpleasant processed chew that plagues mass produced versions.

‘Har gow’. — Picture by CK Lim

Beside them, the har gow offers contrast: delicate translucent skins giving way to plump prawns that only needs their natural sweetness; no need for the treacle-thick red chilli sauce, though they have that, too.

‘Char siew bao’. — Picture by CK Lim

Then come the char siew baos. The original steamed version is pure comfort food — fluffy white dough encasing smoky-sweet barbecued pork filling that spills gently with each bite.

But it is the baked char siew bao that grabs our attention here. The golden crust carries a lightly crackled top, yielding to a buttery sweetness before meeting the sticky savoury filling beneath.

Baked ‘char siew bao’. — Picture by CK Lim

Richer, more indulgent and immensely satisfying, I have to confess that it is difficult to stop at one.

Don’t miss out on the lor mai gai either. Elsewhere, these glutinous rice parcels can feel punishingly oversized, dense enough to constitute an entire meal before the rest of the dim sum even appears.

‘Lor mai gai’. — Picture by CK Lim

Here, the portion is just right (as Goldilocks once declared): compact yet flavourful, the sticky rice absorbs the savoury richness of chicken and mushrooms beautifully while still leaving sufficient space for other treats.

Still, the longevity buns remain the backbone of the business. In Chinese culture, longevity buns (known as sau tou bao in Cantonese) symbolise long life, prosperity and blessings for elders.

Longevity buns. — Picture by CK Lim

These peach-shaped steamed buns are filled traditionally with lotus paste or sweet fillings; their delicate pink-tinted tops mimic peaches associated with immortality in Chinese mythology.

Pre-orders continue steadily, especially around birthdays and festive occasions, while frozen handmade baos and dim sum provide regulars with easy comforts to stock at home.

So perhaps the smartest move is simply this: skip the endless queues elsewhere and head to Liew’s Bao Dian instead. The dim sum tastes fresher and the shorter wait can only improve the flavours, no?

Liew’s Bao Dian 劉家包點

46G, Jalan Hujan Rahmat 3,

Taman Overseas Union, KL.

Phone: 016-335 8033

Open daily (except Mon closed) 7:30am-3:30pm

IG: https://www.instagram.com/liewsbaodian/

FB: https://www.facebook.com/LiewsBaoDian/

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

Sister Cheng Ipoh Chicken Rice, located in Taman Bukit Anggerik, serves a near perfect smooth poached chicken

Lee Khang Yi — Fri, 29 May 2026 08:52:38 +0800

KUALA LUMPUR, May 29 — Chicken rice fanatics often scrutinise every element of a plate of chicken rice — from the texture of the poached chicken, rice and sauces — to determine if it deserves a perfect score.

This particular poached chicken, prepared by the owner Cheng Jeh, almost earns a perfect 10, faltering as the texture of its rice costs it some points.

Solely judging by the chicken, it’s near perfect.

Cheng Jeh has been in the F&B business for more than 30 years. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

The skin is glistening smooth as though it underwent one of those newfangled PDRN (polydeoxytibonucleotide) facials in Seoul, where they inject salmon fish DNA to promote collagen for smoother skin.

Under the chicken skin, you will find the thickest layer of gelatin I have come across.

The chicken has a thick layer of jelly under its skin (left). The soup is available only for dine-in customers (right) and has a slight peppery flavour. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Usually, poached chicken of this calibre is tweaked by soaking it in water, but this particular chicken retains its original flavour, needing only a dab of light soy sauce for a little extra flavour.

You can layer more flavour by adding chunky ginger paste or the tangy chili sauce.

Chunky ginger paste gives the chicken (left) a pungent flavour. The chilli sauce (right) may be watery but it has a nice mild zing that lends an appetising taste to the dish. — Pictures by Lee Khang Yi

Each piece of chicken is accompanied by crunchy, plump bean sprouts, too.

The drawback is their rice, which has soft, slightly sticky grains — a sign of too much water— and lacks flavour.

You are better off with a bowl of hor fun instead of the dismal rice which will only fill you up but leave you craving something better.

Kai Si Hor Fun is a better choice to pair with the poached chicken. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

For a richer taste, they offer Kai Si Hor Fun (RM10) liberally laced with orange prawn oil and topped with two plump prawns.

I also noticed much love for their homemade soup as the diner next to me kept scooping up several bowlfuls.

The clear, slightly peppery broth comes with plump chicken feet and cubed white radish that crumbles when you bite into it.

Regulars also like to add a bowl of meatball soup with their chicken rice too.

My takeaway chicken rice had soft, sticky rice with little flavour but the chicken thigh was very smooth. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

A plate of chicken rice with chicken thigh costs RM9.

My quarter chicken was RM28. The whole chicken is available for RM72, a half portion is RM36.

According to Malaysia Best website, the owner, a lady from Ipoh, is an F&B veteran with over 30 years in the business.

Dining inside is comfortable due to the vast space. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

She first offered chap fan in her early years, starting in Bukit Bintang before moving to Cheras, where she opened this food centre with her husband.

They served Hakka yong tau foo and later chicken rice about 10 years ago. Now, the business has been scaled back, focusing on chicken rice and hor fun soup.

Located at the main road, parking is limited around the stall. — Picture by Lee Khang Yi

Sister Cheng Ipoh Chicken Rice

Restoran Taman Bukit Anggerik Food Centre,

Gerai No. 1351B/1,

Jalan 34/154, Taman Bukit Anggerik,

Cheras, Kuala Lumpur.

Open: 10.30am to 8pm. Closed on Thursdays.

Tel:019-7481901

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.