The Gravy Train

little plate of happiness: water chestnut wonton noodles

This little bowl of wantan mee (wonton noodles) that we had at a street hawker in George Town, Penang, was a dish that just kept surprising me more and more with every bite.  We settled on this plate after wandering the streets of George Town aimlessly on our first night there.  I'd left the hotel without a map or a sense of where we'd find dinner, believing, by George Town's reputation as a stellar food city, that we'd practically fall into tastiness as long as we kept our eyes peeled.

Well, it turned out that tastiness might've been just around the corner, but our endurance for finding it just isn't what it used to be.  The Gravy Baby tops the scales now at over 20 pounds, and we put him in our baby carrier whenever we know we're going a distance.  This wasn't a problem when we schlepping around the chillier climes of Hanoi, but here in Malaysia, but when there's a little meaty heater strapped to you in the form of a baby, it doesn't take long to become a sweaty mess.

Anyway, we'd just about given up on finding that perfect street meal when we saw a line forming around a little cart.  When I saw it was wantan mee they were serving up, I didn't leap for joy right away, because we've eat it regularly in KL.  Well, that changed as soon as our dish was served up.  The wontons and dumplings had water chestnuts inside.  It was such a simple, refreshing, crunchy addition, and yet it totally won (pardon the pun) me over.  For me, the utter simplicity of such a great addition was like eating a hamburger all these years and someone saying to me one day, "You know, try a slice of melted cheese on top of that burger."  It's game-changing, but makes so much sense at the same time.

We loved this little cart and all of its dumpling goodness that we went back for seconds the next night. And the next time I make dumplings, you can count on there being some water chestnuts in them, too.

Wantan mee cart | Open evenings after 7:30 pm | Chulia Street between Carnavon and Lorong Sekchuan | George Town, Penang | Malaysia

bun cha: love at second sight

Bun cha, consisting of grilled meat, rice vermicelli noodles, fresh greens, and a light daikon pickle

Having bun cha in Hanoi is like eating a slice of pizza in New York: it doesn't get any more quintessential than this.  The thing I've come to really love about Vietnamese food is that it usually involves a combination of a rice noodle or crepe, fresh greens, and some sort of meat.  Bun cha encapsulates all three, and adds a smorgasbord of grilled meats, the main feature of which is pork patties, to boot.  

Getting a good bowl of bun cha was on my list as soon as our plane's wheels touched down on Vietnamese soil, and the hubby and I darted to Bun Cha Dac Kim on our first day, within hours of arriving.  Bun Cha Dac Kim is known not only for its stellar bun cha but also for its amazing nem cua be (crab spring rolls, which I blogged about earlier here).   But something was off.  There were piles of thousands, and I do mean thousands, of nem cua be on giant platters outside, but from what we could tell, no one was eating there.  If it's one thing that puts the hubby and me off from eating somewhere, it's the lack of customers.  (As a sidenote, a lack of local customers and an abundance of foreign tourists can also mean something is fishy.  As in, it's a Mexican restaurant -- yes, those exist here in Asia, but most of them are frighteningly awful, for obvious reasons.)

The exterior of Bun Cha Dac Kim; note all the dishwashing takes place on the ground floor and overflows onto the sidewalk, as necessary

So we passed on Bun Cha Dac Kim.  I was sad to do it, but the hubby and I have lived in Southeast Asia long enough now to trust our instincts.  We spent the next two days passing over a few other bun cha establishments for various reasons (one had too many tables, which meant that the quality control might be suspect, another moved locations and we weren't sure of the new address, one was closed for business permanently, and one didn't even serve bun cha).  I started getting nervous by the afternoon of our second-to-last day in Hanoi.  It was unthinkable to me that I'd leave Hanoi without a bowl of the tasty stuff to wrap my soul around, and yet, here we were, with less than 12 hours remaining, and time was ticking.

By evening, my concern had blossomed into full-on eye twitching panic, and so the hubby, the Gravy Baby and I put our heads together and decided to give Bun Cha Dac Kim another go.  After all, we'd last visited Bun Cha Dac Kim at 4:00 in the afternoon, which hardly was a mealtime by anyone's standards.  Perhaps we'd made an incorrect judgment.  

Above, left: the bun cha and all its accompaniments; above, right: the Gravy Baby enjoys watching the shenanigans of his parents and their desperate search for bun cha -- at least, that's what we think

Boy, am I glad we did.  It turns out that like other old establishments in Hanoi, what we'd seen was only the ground floor of the establishment, which was their dishwashing/dish preparation area.  The restaurant was actually five stories, with each story consisting of one room and a spattering of card tables.  We climbed three flights of rickety spiral stairs, wide enough for only one person at a time, and landed in a dimly-lit room, sharing a table with a Vietnamese couple clearly on a date.  I'm not sure that our arrival -- with the Gravy Baby, a giant backpack, and my humongous camera, did to make romance happen that night.

Wait -- I take that back.  It happened, all right.  IN MY BELLY.

Bun Cha Dac Kim | 1 Hang Manh | Hanoi, Vietnam 

*Note: be sure to arrive during dinner hours between 6-8 pm.  By the time we finished dinner around 7:30pm, the place was already winding down for the night.  Talk about efficiency.

eat your heart out

The damage at dinner tonight included hawker-style steak, chicken wings, beef and chicken satay, naan with daal, roti canai (plain Malay-Indian flatbread), and fresh-squeezed tropical juices

When visitors come our way, the hubby and I try to cram in as many our our favorite sights and tastes as we can in the short few days that they're here.  Lately, though, it's become swan song for us, too, as we're winding down our time here and will be making our way Stateside by early summer.  It's amazing how quickly 2 years goes by!

However, it's taken us just as long -- and a fresh set of eyes from a friend --  to figure out that the roti tissue (a light crepe rolled into a cone and sprinkled with grated coconut and sugar) also makes a perfect dunce hat.

ramadan bazaar: smiling faces, deep-fried fun

Top left: a friendly vendor scoops out a portion of rice for a patron; middle: I think the fact that you're frying fritters in a giant wok of oil makes you cool whether you have the matching shades or not; a delicious selection of rosewater and pandan kuih (cakes) that are seen in abundance this time of year

On Merdaka Day, Malaysia's Independence Day, we checked out a Ramadan Bazaar.  I'd heard from a few friends here and there that a lively bazaar takes place downtown, not far from our usual stomping grounds.  We weren't disappointed; the scene was jovial, packed with people, and best of all, brimming with delicious food.

I'm not sure if we've acclimatized to living in Malaysia or whether it was just the general mood of the bazaar, but what a difference a year makes.  Last year, we moved here during Hari Raya and immediately took to exploring night markets and Ramadan bazaars, although we weren't sure at the time what we were looking at.  Maybe it was our perpetual "deer in headlights" appearance, but we didn't find many chances to mingle much with locals or to learn about what delicious treats we were stuffing into our mouths.  

little plate of happiness: yummy lum mee

I went on a bustling, sweaty morning market tour this morning (details and photos to come).  Afterward, we stopped by a little eatery for a plate of lum mee, which I've never had before.  It's one of those Malaysian noodle dishes that shows up drenched in a gelatinous pile of gravy that melts into a broth as it sits at the table.  Within minutes, the heat from the gelatin dissolves into a tasty, savory broth, and combined with fried shallots, green onions, shrimp and chicken, it makes for a hearty, delicious lunch.  Plus, for less than $2 (RM 5.50), how can you beat that price?

May King | 38 Jalan Yew, near Pudu Market | Kuala Lumpur | Malaysia

here's the beef

I have a dirty little secret to tell: every once in awhile, I eat an American-style diner steak.  At a hawker stall.  Here in KL.

The hubby and I have lived in KL for eleven months now.  During that time, I think we've made a pretty good effort to dive, head-first, into all of the Malaysian culinary delights on offer.  We've eaten street food and high-end restaurant fare and everything in between, and I try to blog only about the most memorable experiences we have.  The lingering taste of these many delicious meals, after all, are the souvenirs I want to take with us after we leave KL. 

But, as I've learned in my almost-year living abroad, I can't survive eating only local cuisine every day.  This isn't a knock on Malaysian food at all; it's just that I have days when a good ol' peanut butter and jelly sandwich will do.