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. 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.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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