Standard Chartered Kuala Lumpur Marathon 2012

Will there ever be a perfect marathon race? Hold on. Perhaps I should ask, what IS a perfect marathon race? Prior to SCKLM2012, it’d be, for me, a race that is injury-free, challenging but ends with a new personal best time. It does seem easily achievable but many runners will disagree, I’m sure. In pounding the road for a long distance of 42.195 km, at one point (or more), either the body or mind will or attempts to give up. And usually, it doesn’t take long before the synergy is lost completely, causing the other component to surrender as well. So, perfection is tough. That’s life.

But what if I did run that perfect race? On 24 June 2012, I’d completed the Kuala Lumpur Marathon course of undulating terrains injury-free and even secured my first ever sub 4-hour finish. There’s no denying that I felt triumphant crossing the finish line. To have run that perfect race in my hometown and meeting familiar faces of friends and relatives at the race site made it an even more memorable race. I should be very happy. Yet, I couldn’t shake off a sense of disappointment that felt like a splinter stuck inside the skin.

I thought I’d planned well for this race by consistently keeping a high weekly mileage on the road and even managed to swim a few times. I’m not really interested in swimming, but if cross-training helps to improve my run, then I should do it. More importantly, I’d maintained a light and healthy diet throughout the week. It wasn’t easy, especially on the evening before the race, when the family got together for a feast to celebrate the Rice Dumpling Festival. To avoid another bout of diarrhoea, I’d stuck to steamed potatoes, rice and some lean meat. I managed to sleep for a few hours before waking up at 2 am, feeling rather fresh, to prepare for the race, which would start at 4.30 am at the iconic Dataran Merdeka.

At the race site, I managed to find and greet a few people; including Lyrical Lemongrass and Bald Eagle, Karen and Logan, Jun and Cousin Harry. These meetings of familiar faces added to the joy and comfort of knowing that I was back home again.

I was born and raised in Kuala Lumpur. At 18 years old, I moved to Johor to pursue my tertiary education and began my worklife in Singapore 4 years later. But I do return to KL whenever I can, simply because this is home.

Like the other Standard Chartered-sponsored marathons joined previously, the theme for this race was Run For A Reason. My reason was nowhere noble, just nostalgic. As I signed up for this race in February, I’d already imagined what a fantastic experience it’d be, running along the familiar streets, passing shops and restaurants that I’d frequented in the last 30 over years. I was especially excited about the Jalan Ipoh – Jalan Kuching stretch, from the 28th to 35th km. During those childhood days, this was the route I’d take to go to school, the city center, for suppers…well, everywhere!

Studying the marathon course had me thinking of how KL has transformed in the last 30 years. The skyline, though incomparable with New York or Tokyo, is something that all KLites should be proud of. We’ve certainly progressed. Inevitably, the cost of living has also increased, but to what extent? It’s baffling to learn, through friends, of the daily spending on necessities of an average KLite working in the city against his monthly income. Some described it as barely surviving. Well, it is understandable, and acceptable, if a higher cost of living translates to a better quality of life. But before getting into a deeper discussion on this matter, let’s just, for now, focus on cutting down the ridiculous, increasing number of crimes in KL.

At the start line, some runners were happily chatting away while most kept quiet, seemingly focused on the task ahead. Strangely enough, my eyes were fixed on the clock placed high at the tower of the brightly lit, historic Sultan Abdul Samad Building, instead of my own watch. The excitement grew with each tick. We would be flagged off in a few minutes. A decent finishing time would be fine, I told myself. I wanted nothing more than to enjoy this race down memory lane.

Standing freely at the Dataran that morning, I recalled an article on the electoral reforms rally in April, in which the city hall rejected the assembly to be held at Dataran Merdeka, stating events allowed to be held at Dataran Merdeka are only those of a national level. The city mayor clarified that national sporting events are allowed. Placing sports above a national interest and the future of the country is something that concerns me, really. Where are we heading?

It was still dark when the race began. My body was just warming up, so it took more energy and some pain to move those cold muscles and set the right momentum for the rest of the distance. My accelerations were random and my breathing was heavy. At Jalan Travers, near the LeMeridien, I saw the large green balloon about 100 m ahead of me. It means that I was nearing the 4-hour pacer. Without hesitation, I chased after him. Soon, we turned into Brickfields, descending the first major slope. Usually, I’d slow down, to avoid damaging my knees and shins, but in wanting to keep up with the pacer, I sped. My pace, at that point, was still fluctuating. It was just 3.5 km into the race and I’d begun to feel the stretch. I was not running like my usual self. I’d lost control.

The pacer’s name is Kenny Wong, as I found out after the race. He was running at a very fast pace and trailing him was not easy. Somehow, I had to overtake him. Well, for at least 500 m, to secure a sub 4-hour finish. My breathing remained irregular and a side-stitch revisited. My left shoulder felt sore too. I thought of my old car being driven at 120 km/h and shaking violently. That’s how my body was reacting now. I’d never run this fast in my life. My sole focus was to overtake that floating green balloon tied to Kenny Wong.

At the Lebuhraya Kuala Lumpur water station along the old airport runway, I overtook Kenny Wong while he stopped to rehydrate. And we would overtake one another until the 26th km, passing the Istana Negara, Dewan Bahasa and Pustaka, Jalan Loke Yew, Bukit Bintang, the Petronas Twin Towers, Institut Jantung Negara and the National Library. In this (which now seemed to be) a race against the pacer, I realized that I could actually push much harder than I knew. At the risk of destructing my body, of course.

One of the most enlightening, and torturous, moments of the race took place at the Pavilion row along Jalan Bukit Bintang. I’d never realized that this part of the road was so damn steep! And that’s what makes running so interesting; it gives the everyday driver a whole new (and better) perspective of the same road. Time lost in climbing that incline was compensated by speeding down the slope connecting Jalan Raja Chulan to Jalan P. Ramlee. Years ago, at this very same spot, and perhaps same time as well, I was just leaving for home after a loud nightout at the clubs.

At the 27th km, turning into Jalan Ipoh from Jalan Tun Razak, I began to lose sight of the green balloon. But I didn’t give up. Not when I had only 15 km more to go.

Jalan Ipoh wasn’t as easy to run as I’d hoped for. First, there was that invigorating smell of bak kut teh from Ban Lee, at the time when my fuel tank was almost empty. Then, there were the many, though minor, elevations to tackle. My focus was still on the invisible green balloon. Still running at my fastest pace for a marathon, my quads felt like they were ready to give up very soon. I was prepared to cramp.

Leaving Jalan Ipoh, we made our way to the busy Jalan Kuching. Passing each flyover, I was grateful that I didn’t have to climb them. Linking Jalan Kuching to the Segambut roundabout was a steep incline that, to me, was just an introduction to the biggest, final obstacle of the SCKLM – the double hills of Bukit Tunku. I was glad that I’d done some research on the route prior to the race. Some energy has to be reserved for the double hills. I would have, if I hadn’t crazily trailed the green balloon. At the 36th km, I might have hit the wall. And what a great time to do so, at the most difficult part of the route! I composed myself and ran steadily towards Bukit Tunku.

At the start of the climb, I looked at my watch and did a quick mental calculation of my estimated finish time and average pace. With the green balloon out of sight, I’d still be able to finish the race in less than 4 hours, if I’d kept the pace at 6 mins/km. That’s achievable! So I re-strategized. Instead of wasting my entire, limited energy climbing the hills, I should run relatively slower but consistently, and accelerate when descending the hills, all the way to the finish line at Dataran Merdeka. I just had to keep my pace below 6 mins/km.

The double hills climb left me nearly breathless, while the quads and calves were stretched to the limits. Thank goodness for the generous Salonpas volunteers who treated my legs with their pain-relieving spray. Descending the hills, I couldn’t accelerate as planned. By now, my energy level had depleted completely, almost. I maintained my climbing pace, but kept in mind that it had to be within 6 mins/km.

Running on flat surface again at the 40th km was sheer bliss. Here, merging with the shorter distance runners, despite the congestion, brought much needed livelihood to the rather lonely full marathon course. My shoulder still felt sore. The feet were soaking wet, most probably blistered as well, while the legs begged to rest. But I was very, very close to my first sub 4 hour finish. So what’s another 2 km, right? I imagined this being the last 2 km of my usual, easy night runs and the joy of being closer to returning home to a relaxing cold shower and a sound sleep. 10 minutes of this tranquilizing thought later, and after running for 3 hours and 53 minutes that breezy Sunday morning, I crossed the finish line at Dataran Merdeka.

At the rest tent, I met up with Lyrical Lemongrass, who congratulated me on my new personal record. I remember telling her that I could now die a happy man. Later, I was joined by LeCoupleToy. ToyBoy was there to support his friends and ToyGirl, who ran the 10k race. I left the group to use the toilet. I had a major purge but it came at the most welcoming time – at the end of the race. What a relief!

I left the square and made my way to the Masjid Jamek LRT station. Hunger hasn’t gotten to me yet, which was a surprise. Alone, in the train, I began to recall my SCKLM2012 experience. There were many memorable moments during the race; the cooling rain at the 6th km, passing the uncle at the Sri Dhandayuthapani school bus-stop who continuously cheered on the runners, the adorable little girls and their dad holding up cards of encouraging words like Run like you stole something!! and Chuck Norris never ran a marathon at the Segambut roundabout (or Jalan Ipoh, I forgot) and trailing Kenny Wong, the 4-hour pacer, who spurred me on in the first half of the marathon. These moments, though precious, were not what I’d expected from this race. An initially planned nostalgic relaxed run around my hometown had turned into a draining sub 4-hour run mission. Instead of running at my usual pace along the familiar roads, reminiscing and celebrating the parts of town that had shaped me, I forced myself to accelerate, to catch up with the green balloon and was oblivious to my surrounding. In short, I didn’t enjoy my run.

In a post-mortem on SCKLM2012 with a running friend, I expressed my disappointment in failing to enjoy the race as planned, despite having achieved the previously elusive sub 4-hour marathon finish. For my friend, the result outweighs any form of enjoyment. A race, to her, is a time to run faster and improve the previous personal best record. I do agree, partially. Towards the end of our discussion, I concluded that perhaps a perfect marathon race is not that easily defined. It’s not as simple as running an injury-free race and crossing the finish line with a new record, but to find that equilibrium point where result meets pleasure. How can a runner push himself to the brink of extreme pain and still enjoy the process? Perhaps that point is a vacuum, an empty space. A runner’s nirvana. Or simply, when the body produces enough endorphin to suppress pain and simultaneously create an immense sense of happiness – runner’s high. So, SCKLM2012 was not my perfect marathon race. Will I be able to attain that equilibrium point? I don’t know. But I’m hopeful. Maybe, the answer is just another marathon away.

Fukuharu

A worthy, value-for-money Japanese set lunch. The last time I was impressed by such a deal was back in 2008, when Lyrical Lemongrass, FatBoyBakes and I met for an eight-course kaiseki lunch at Fukuya, Bangsar One. I did find out later that Fukuharu also belongs to the owner(s) of Fukuya. That explains the similar minimalist interior, warm hospitality and affordable, homey Japanese food.

If not for FBB's dive wife (she's an admirable runner too), who'd highly recommended the set lunch, I wouldn't have travelled the distance to come to the TERRACE, given how horrendous the traffic can be like along Jalan Ampang. But more importantly, I wanted to catch up with her and share my recent running experiences.

After a run earlier in the morning, I was certain that one set lunch (Japanese, especially) wouldn't be enough for me. But I was assured that the portions here are huge. The dishes rolled out one after another, starting with the salad, chawan mushi, choice of main dish (I chose the saba shioyaki, or grilled mackerel sprinkled with salt) and a bowl of hot soba (one can choose rice instead). The selection was J-typical but the ingredients remained fresh. Especially at only RM38+, there was nothing left to complain about, really. But of course, the stomach was only half filled, at best. But that's not their fault.

Somewhere between deploring the erratic slopes along the Putrajaya Night Marathon route and planning for the insane Western State 100 Mile Endurance Run (it will not materialise, believe me), we were served the mini kaiseki appetizer platter, which I'd absolutely forgotten. It was surprisingly a plateful. And of relatively good quality too. Among others, the salmon sashimi slices (and cubes - with a wafu-style dressing and served in a shot glass) were considerably fresh, the riceball-coated deep-fried prawn came à la minute crispy and there was even a cut of well-seasoned roast duck. Now that's what I call worthy.

Our fervent discussion on running went on for some time (covering Asics/Saucony shoes versus the world, introversion of runners, strategic locations to hide hydration bottles while running, etc), paused only for dessert (part of the set). It was a simple, flavourful scoop of vanilla ice cream, interestingly drizzled with black sesame sauce.

Fukuharu brought back good memories of Fukuya at Bangsar One. Both restaurants offer unbeatable set lunches in a relaxed setting. Personally, I think that this is a better option for a weekend gathering of few friends than to splurge on a chic restaurant where just the appetizer of colourful foams and a deconstructed iced lemon tea cost more this set lunch.

Fukuharu
TERRACE at Hock Choon
241-B, Lorong Nibong off Jalan Ampang
50450 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Yut Kee, finally.

Dad said that he used to despatch chicken to Yut Kee from his employer's stall in the old Central Market. He would get a free meal every time he's there. People were more sincerely generous in the old days, weren't they? According to dad, the pork chop and egg roll were really good. All these years, he had never mentioned about Yut Kee (and I never asked why), until I suggested that we have lunch there a month ago. I took the family to Yut Kee a week after my first visit with a couple of friends. Having learnt that the best time to avoid is around the lunch hours, we took a slow ride to reach at 2 pm. Surprisingly, the famous pork belly roll was still available. What luck!

It's a very typical coffee shop but while many would see a more slowed and relaxed tea time, Yut Kee was still very much a high speed production line, churning out dish after dish. Despite the overflowing crowd waiting at the shop's front, I thought they operated efficiently; from allocation of seats to taking orders to the payment process. This system (which seems intuitive but nonetheless requires sufficient manpower and good coordination to work) that they've adopted shortens the waiting time significantly and puts the customers at ease. It's a major plus, really. I can't remember how many times I'd sworn that I'd be damned if I had to revisit some badly managed but prideful eateries in town.

As we sat down, Dad began observing the surrounding, obviously looking for familiar faces but couldn't recognize anyone. He said the workforce had been replaced by, perhaps the next generation. There were four of us at the table, with eight dishes to share; including the westernized roast pork belly, which I thought was very good. It's all in bite - the crispy crackling, the aroma of lard melt bursting in the mouth and a nutty taste of the filling. The apple sauce gave an interesting sweetness to the salty meat. Of course, when one's at Yut Kee for the first time, one has to try the perennial favourites such as roti babi, Hailam mee and belacan fried rice. I didn't think much of the roti babi filling (which could do with more filling and seasoning) but the soft, encapsulating bread coated with a thin layer of egg was nice. I thought the roti was skillfully prepared. The taste is to be enhanced with a dip of the Worcestershire sauce.

On this second visit, I'd decided to try other less popular dishes on the board. Less because they were not seen on every table, unlike the roti babi and pork chop. I'd ordered the beef noodles served with a generous amount of meat and tripe, soft radish and a clear stock, and the Cantonese-style fried noodles with enough wok hei to keep me intoxicated and happy.

Let's talk a bit about the all-time favourite pork chop. The first bite unravelled a well-marinated piece of tenderized pork. The construction was traditional. From my (limited) pork chop experiences, the brown sauce is usually mild, bordering tasteless, even. That's not the case at Yut Kee though. The caramelized gravy was rich and flavourful, and went really well with the otherwise bland potato wedges and assorted boiled vegetables. Oh, not to forget a sprinkling of the appetizing Worcestershire sauce too. However, Dad did mention that the pork used to be crispier, but perhaps due to higher demand, were pre-cooked, hence the softness.

Growing up, I was privileged enough to have eaten quite a fair amount of Hainanese noodles cooked by an aunt of mine. It's quiet different from my usual Cantonese and Hokkien mee with the noodles simmered over a longer duration and served soupy but less starchy than loh mee. Yut Kee's Hailam mee was different. The soup was reduced to an almost stir-fried consistency. Still, it was a tasty treat, especially when eaten with the topping of some fragrant, crunchy fried shallots.

The extensive menu at Yut Kee is posted on a larger than life whiteboard hung on the sidewall. So far, I've only tried a small fraction of it. For me, every visit is to try something new, and to discover something old but gold as well. Here, especially when dining alone or in a small group, chances are that one would be sharing a table with older loyal customers that are happy to share their tales of Yut Kee or recommend some dishes. Tourists also flock this coffee shop, which I think is a good choice. It's definitely a more identifiable Malaysian experience. Truly Asia what?

I didn't ask Dad what he thought of today's Yut Kee. He seemed pleased though, whopping one dish after another. Perhaps for him, there was a taste of nostalgia in the food too.

Take away the hype, the rustic interior (which is one of the attractions of this coffee shop) and endless free publicity, I will still be back at Yut Kee, simply because the food is good and affordable (especially in this part of the city). Not many good old coffee shops like this survive the test of time so I really hope that they'll stay for long time. And I'm confident of that, unless of course, there's a forced, unwise plan to demolish this row of shophouses in the name of development.

Yut Kee
35, Jalan Dang Wangi
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

The Long DUO Weekend

This time, I knew the words to most of his new songs and sang along happily. That's a Chinese pop concert for you. It's an extended karaoke session that I usually think twice before attending since I can do the same in a private room (with 2 drinks) for less than RM30. But how can one say no to Eason Chan's concert? Call me a conservative but I do feel that the Cantopop scene is declining to a stage where voices are faint, some forced and mostly indistinguishable. The catchy melodies and profound lyrics (well, sometimes) stay but often tailored, these are not representative of the quality of the singer. Eason's gifted voice is one of the very few that I still listen to ardently. He started strong that Saturday night at Stadium Merdeka with 今天等我来, a befitting opening number, which we thought was a new song. In fact, it was sort of a B-side from his early days. I'm definitely attempting this at K next time! There were a few covers that night too, like 好歌獻給你, 寂寞夜晚 and 破曉, which may be unfamiliar to the younger crowd. He did include a few of my personal favourites into the repertoire like 落花流水 and 裙下之臣 BUT where are the other hits like 葡萄成熟时, 大開眼戒, 不来也不去, 岁月如歌, Shall We Talk, 十面埋伏, 淘汰, 於心有愧, 七百年後 and K歌之王? The banters could have been shortened to make way for more of these songs. The atmosphere, despite the humidity, was great throughout the 25 songs set. The KL crowd, to me, has always been enthusiastic, responsive and supportive. The singers themselves acknowledged this as well. Honestly, I was expecting a 3-hour concert packed with more than 30 songs but I forgot that this was not a Jacky Cheung show. So, I left the stadium slightly disappointed. The company of old schoolmates made up for that. To think that we first heard Eason when we sat for our SPM examination. We've definitely come a long way. Maybe I should now stop laughing at my elders who travel to the Arena of Stars in Genting to watch their favourite singers from the 70s perform.

The concert marked the beginning of my long weekend in KL since the lunar new year. There was no preplanned eat list but that turned out fine. For a change, we lunched at Dubrovnik (finally) and found the recommended dishes, mostly dairy products-based, commendable. And for a change to that change, it was Klang bak kut teh for breakfast at Hock Kien, Bandar Manjalara. The famous braised claypot pork belly, to me, could have been more harmonized a dish. The ingredients seemed unevenly proportioned. The aroma of the sesame oil was strong, that's good. But the soy sauce based reduction was bland with some flavours clearly lacking, like ginger, cinnamon and peppercorn. On the positive side, the pork ribs served in the claypot bak kut teh were succulent and huge.

Of all the food that I'd tried over the long weekend, it was the wan tan mee from an obscure 壹记 at Taman Usahawan Kepong that had been most remarkable. The influx of customers was not high that Monday afternoon, which was good. Well, for us at least. 壹记 serves handmade, whole-egg noodles with a couple of toppings to choose from. The simplicity of their menu may not be attractive to many but they've done well with the noodles being refined, springy and without a hint of lye. For getting the fundamentals right, 壹记 deserves a revisit.

What's homecoming without a homecooked meal, right? I had a couple of those, including a large plate of steamed yam cake for tea, prepared by mum. Always generous, she filled the yam cake with a copious amount of steamed yam cubes that gave each cut a nice bite. The cake itself tasted rather plain, so a sprinkling of chopped waxed sausages provided some sweetness and colour. It's incomplete without a dollop of mum's dried shrimp chilli paste. It's a basic, versatile condiment that can be used to cook curry, sambal for nasi lemak, etc. For the yam cake, she added more salt and doubled the chilli. Let's see, I might have consumed more of the chilli paste than the yam cake.

Over the long weekend, I'd also experienced a pleasant, almost seamless passport renewal process at the immigration department in KL. And in between food and meetings with friends, I managed to hit a good running mileage. At the end of this short getaway, I felt recharged. What a difference a day makes, eh? I'm beginning to understand the lament of most employees now....YES, I do need more leave days!

壹记
74, Jalan Metro Perdana Barat 3
Taman Usahawan Kepong
52100 Kuala Lumpur

Snowflake

The Japan! Combo. I don’t know why I like it so much. Or how did I end up choosing this over the bestseller - taroballs with whatever. Or what the heck was I doing in a shaved ice dessert shop in the first place? I don’t know. But I really like it. Maybe it’s the soy ice crush. Soy milk is one of my favourite drinks - warm, iced or frozen. Or maybe it’s the chewy green tea balls. Or the slight bitter aftertaste and artificial chlorophyll scent that work wonders with sweetened soy milk. Like Starbucks’ costly, classy soy milk green tea latte - my only choice there. I don’t know. It just tastes good. I have a loyalty card, by the way. The words Dessert Lover Club fill 1/3 of the card. Sickening, I know. And I'm just five stamps away from redeeming any item from the menu. But the Japan! Combo is no longer listed on their website. Instead, a new monthly special has been introduced. Sesame Sensation. Peanut ice with sesame balls. Great, just great.

http://snowflake.com.my/

Kafe An Nasuha Beverages

The Masjid India vicinity is especially stark and quiet pass the midnight hour. It’s the absolute contrast to the thriving, colourful daytime when mercantile activities are in full swing. I felt like an abductee, blindfold removed as I was led to a strip of old shoplots along Lorong Bunus 1, after crossing a few dark lanes. Here, it was bright and lively. Who would have thought? A few Mamak (Indian-Muslim) restaurants were hiving, particularly one with stools and tables spilt to the adjacent units. That’s where we ate.

We found a communal table and shared it with a few others that seemed hurried. It’s not strange, but a courteous act as they observed the influx that increased by the minute. Naturally, we followed suit.

There’s no need for any recommendation when every table is piled with the same servings of roti banjir spesial and pre-packed pyramidal nasi lemak.

One can probably find similar, rather mechanical food at any Mamak stall across the city but sipping teh halia or masala tea and downing chunks of fried bread drenched in dhal curry with sambal and runny eggs by the Klang River in a historical quarter...now that's something special. And that's why we keep coming back to An Nasuha.

Green Valley Vegetarian Restaurant

There seemed to be a lot to choose from, including chicken rice. Wait a minute, isn’t this a vegetarian restaurant? But I was here mainly for the thunder rice, so it really didn’t matter. I can’t remember the last time I stepped into a Chinese vegetarian restaurant. It must have been decades ago, when I was first introduced to faux meat made of wheat gluten. My interest lasted only a couple of meals, mainly affected by the overwhelming use of artificial flavourings and oil. Of course, I'm still speaking in the context of Chinese vegetarian cuisine.

Over the years, my circle of friends extended. One of the ways to know them better is to understand their diets. I’m usually piqued by the vegetarians, especially when there’s a story involved. Some refrain from meat for health reasons but most regard it as part of their religion. One that I know did it out of love and respect for his religious wife. I do have many questions on this practice, from both mythical and scientific perspectives, but I must agree that underlying the different beliefs is the fact that this diet is essentially a healthy way of life.

Green Valley was quiet that Saturday. Not surprising as it was way past lunch time. This choice of lunch venue was late and most arbitral. But a good one, no doubt. Coming into a vegetarian restaurant with a stomach full of pork (from breakfast), I did feel slightly sinful, so we had another fibrous, green dish, in hope of minimizing the guilt. Joking lah.

The thunder tea and rice - instantly noticeable was the missing component of anchovies, but with a good variety of vegetables, black-eyed peas (that's new), tofu cubes and peanuts thrown in, I was not missing much. As for the green (literally) tea, all I can say is, thank goodness! It was what I expected - a healthy blend of basil/coriander/pepper/mint/etc paste thinned in hot water. Now, I'm not sure if anyone noticed but more and more thunder tea sellers are substituting plain hot water with superior stocks. Sure, it makes the tea umami but that's just wrong. Not authentic. It's not fusion but funny. A farce, even. I shudder at the thought of my past superior stock-thunder tea experiences at some major foodcourts in Singapore. And another stall in Senai, Johor. So, in conclusion, I really enjoyed Green Valley's thunder tea for being as original as I remembered, sans meat.

I'm not sure if one of my favourite colours has influenced my decision on the fried spinach noodles with a lightly starched bittergourd, wolfberries and oyster mushroom topping, but it sure was a good choice. Simple, healthy, tasty and affordable, the dish basically left no room for critiques.

Looking at the tedious preparation, amount of ingredients used, its acquired taste and selling price, I am in view that thunder tea is not a lucrative business. That makes me appreciate the dish and the sellers even more, especially when it's good. So, the faux meats may not guarantee my return to Green Valley, but the thunder tea definitely will.

Green Valley Vegetarian Restaurant
84-1, 2 ¼ Miles
Jalan Sungai Besi
57100 Kuala Lumpur
Malaysia

Lunch at Sek Yuen

The aluminium plates were each a piece of art, characteristically malled by the years they'd served. So impressive as well were the steaming hot rolls of colourful towels offered to the customers at the end of the meal. The cheerful and attentive hosts, especially the uncle in a Hawaiian shirt with loud hibiscus print, looked like they enjoyed their roles very much. A rarity these days, don't you think? In the background, Christmas songs sung in Mandarin where played. All these, and the food, made my first Sek Yuen experience on Christmas day a most satisfying one.

Dad recounted his few banquet attendances here some 30 years ago and praised their signature creations, including the chilled bowl of meat and jelly. Some of these dishes are long lost, he said. According to dad, the sweet and sour pork here is an all-time favourite. I must agree. Everyone can make sweet and sour pork, of course. But to take it beyond a high school science project of combining plain bottled ketchup and deep-fried pork requires some techniques. Or what we Cantonese call kung fu. At first glance, the blistering nuggets appeared to be the result of deep-frying in overheated oil, which usually causes the meat to be undercooked. Not at all, thankfully. In fact, each piece was cooked tender, pink to the core. Kung fu! Coat the crunchy golden fried batter with a balanced sauce of syrup, tomatoes and starch, and it's a colourful and appetizing dish.

I reported my menu to dad after that lunch and he seemed pleased that I had the pei pa duck, which was air-dried then deep-fried and yet, came just minimally greasy. This is a dish that has been with the restaurant for the longest time and it's really not difficult to understand its longevity. Addiction was that crack of the crispy skin followed by the taste of well-salted, succulent meat. If I'd proceeded with my plan for a bottle of affordable bubbly, nothing too fancy and difficult to pronounce, for this occasion, it would have paired this duck nicely, I'm sure.

My folks have been telling me that Sek Yuen is exemplary of classic Cantonese fare. But what is classic? I'm not sure if my limited knowledge and young tastebuds, furthermore marred by all these new fusion/confusion cuisines, grant me the ability to recognize such complexities - a skill that comes only with age and a long love for food. But I do know that good taste is always here to stay. And that's how I'll remember Sek Yuen.

Subak

Many visitors will enjoy walking up the green, serene, steep slope leading to Subak’s reception. I would try too, if only I knew. With hip-hop music blasting from the car stereo, we sped up the slope, to the horror of Subak’s staff. They stopped us immediately and politely explained that vehicles are prohibited from entering the restaurant, which is located on a hill. We definitely made an impression that afternoon.

Subak's NZ Lamb Shank Masala (with sweet potato mash)

Subak reminded me of Naili’s, one of the earliest cafes with a tropical setting that comes with lighted mosquito coils under every table. A decade ago, it was one of THE places to be in and had definitely made Sentul more appealing and cool. As much as I applaud their back-to-nature theme, I never understood the ambiance, which many would describe as unique. I call it humid and stuffy. As for the menu, I would give up the overpriced fries and chops for some fiery, colourful, tamarind-loaded fish head curry from Kari Kepala Ikan Sentul. The last time I checked, that's 10 minutes ago, Naili’s has now expanded to Ampang, Damansara Uptown and Taipan. Us urbanites are just so nature-deprived these days, aren’t we?

Ibu Yati's Gado-Gado

Subak's Balinese Fried Rice with a Grilled Chicken Skewer

Pan-Fried Medallion of Cod Fish and Butterfly Prawns (with tomato and ginger flower reduction)

Subak, with its contemporary landscaping and sort of exotic interior, was welcoming. But still humid lah. It was easy selecting the dishes as the signatures were already widely introduced on the web. Funnily enough, it was that sweet potato mash pillowing the lamb shank masala that I remembered the most. Subtly sweet, it was a brilliant alternative to the usual bland kind.

It started to rain heavily when we were ready to leave. And so, we ordered desserts.

Tapai Pulut with Vanilla Ice Cream

A conservative (or stereotype) sometimes, I came here secretly wishing that I would find some hidden gems of authentic, traditional Malay food amidst the creative menu but that surely just wouldn’t do with such grandeur of a restaurant on a hill now, would it?

Subak
Lot 3213 Jalan Penchala Indah
Bukit Lanjan 60000
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Tel: (+603) 7729 9030
Check out their new menu here: http://www.subak.com.my/

Restoran Chat Masala

I’ve decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and look forward to more developments in Brickfields. Finally, this colourful neighbourhood is getting an overhaul.

Jalan Tun Sambanthan is now a one-way street. It reminds me a lot of my hometown, Sentul, where the once two-way Jalan Sentul now loops at Sentul Raya. Logically speaking, wider roads do ease traffic flow but here’s the question – where has the opposite side of the road been relocated? I’ve asked a few friends but no one could give me an answer. If there’s one suggestion that I may provide, to help smoothen traffic at this neighbourhood, is to build multilevel carparks. Double-parking is a concern here and it’s unfair to penalize just the drivers. I see this idea being more pragmatic than to fuglify a historical site with another self-indulging Malaysia Boleh skyscraper.

Back at Brickfields, parking was impossible as we studied the new Jalan Tun Sambanthan. Fortunately for us, a car was leaving right in front of us and we swerved into the parking space with much relief. Think of the buckets of sweat that I might have disposed off if I had to walk from KL Sentral on a hot afternoon.

Chat Masala sounded rather familiar and we decided to give it a try. It wasn’t until I made my payment at the cashier that I noticed the TOKL Food 40 2008 token. Not that it would change my perception, of course.

The self-service spread was very much the same as with many Indian restaurants. We opted for banana leaf rice, so everything was served to us instead. I look forward to my moru and rasam every time I go for blr. When well-prepared, the sourish liquids, rich with the pungent onion/coriander (moru) and spices (rasam), serve to open up the senses and in many ways, enhance the whole blr experience. Let’s not forget their medicinal properties as well. Unfortunately, both came much milder than I’d hoped for. The curried vegetables of okra, long beans, lentils and potatoes, on the other hand, were surprisingly flavoursome and nicely softened.

Meat analogue is such a sophisticated name for faux meat, isn’t it? Not a fan myself, but the lava tones were so inviting that I had to give it a try. Befittingly, the chicken and mutton were hot and spicy. There was an unmistakable sugary hint that comes with many vegetarian dishes. Truth be told, I actually liked both dishes for the explosion of spices in my mouth.

I was back in this Little India on a Saturday night, just to bask in the Deepavali mood and to see if there are any new and exciting festive snacks on sale. As expected, cars began piling from Jalan Travers. Decorating Little India were colourful lights, energetic drumbeats blasting from every corner, street performances and posters of Dr. Manmohan Singh and Malaysia’s current prime minister. Especially with the posters, my cynical mind couldn’t decide if the theme of the day was a celebration of existing bilateral ties or the triumph of good over evil. There are now Indian culture-inspired art installations at the center of Brickfields too. These must be from the same people behind that whateverthingtheycallit fountain at the Pavilion, Bukit Bintang, I told myself.

Personally, nothing from the previous description reminded me of Deepavali. Well, for this non-Hindu living in an Indian neighbourhood for over 17 years, at least. It’s only when I pushed my way into the tents and shops that I started to remember what this Festival of Lights was like - the tranquiling scent of incense, colourful garlands and families gallivanting down the street in traditional clothing. Oh, and the stacks of halwa, barfi, murukku and laddu.

I just hope that I’ll be receiving a large container of these snacks again from my neighbour this year.

Happy Deepavali and enjoy the long weekend, everyone.

Chat Masala
259G, Jalan Tun Sambanthan
Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur
Malaysia
Tel: (+603) 2260 3244

Noodles @ Ban Lee

They said I must give it a try. Afterall, it’s only a short drive from home. And I did. Thank you, eager relatives.

As we approached Taman Ehsan, I still had no idea what exactly we would be having for breakfast that Sunday. Pork noodle, I was told. That’s a tricky one. This is KL, so it'll be either the liver sausage and pork balls type or those served with everything porky - intestine, liver, blood cubes, minced meat, etc. I asked no further and assumed that it’s the former. I wanted it to be! However, amidst the excitement generated along the journey, I was not informed of the one important feature of this coffeeshop - the erratic business hours. True enough, it was closed that day…and on our subsequent visit.

Some things are worth the wait, I guess. This is one of them. The gorn low (Cantonese for dry-tossed) dressing consisting of light and sweet soy sauces and sesame oil was quintessentially what I would have been able to formulate at home but of course, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. At Ban Lee, it was the really good noodle that had me. How would I describe it? Most probably a cross between yee and pan mee. So, on one hand, there’s the smooth, non-sticky texture of yee mee (sans the ubiquitous process of blanching in hot oil) and on the other, a hint of floury scent of pan mee. I’ve seen similar types sold at wet markets before but thought that they would not be any different from pan mee. Looks like it’s time to get a kilogram and make myself some gorn low mee. Or some mushroom ragout to go with it! The other ingredients complementing the noodles seemed pan mee-inspired; deep-fried beancurd skin and pork balls.

Don’t start eating yet! HairyBerry needs to shoot the food, said the relatives, almost in unison. Sweet.

Here’s a good plan for a Sunday morning – start the day with a workout at the nearby Forest Research Institute of Malaysia (FRIM), replenish with some pork noodles at Ban Lee and head home for a peaceful afternoon nap. If Ban Lee’s closed, there are always other coffeeshops around Taman Ehsan. Good ones at that.

Kedai Makan Ban Lee
Jalan E 3/6
Taman Ehsan, 52100 Kuala Lumpur
Malaysia

Tian Tian Lai (天天来)

As we all know, the Puduraya bus terminal is currently under some major reconstruction and a temporary terminal has been set up at one of Bukit Jalil National Stadium's vast carparks. The inconvenience caused is immeasurable but for the sake of a better, proper bus terminal that I can be proud of, I'm going to bear with this. As much as I'm looking forward to it, I wonder if there's any plan to tackle the other problem that, to me, seems to be more obvious and necessary - the perpetual congestion along Jalan Pudu that leads to the bus terminal.

I had to reschedule my return trips. No more midnight express coaches back to KL because the only means of public transportation available at the stadium around 3 am is the taxi but I don't want to spoil my very early morning with futile, frustrating bargains. And it would be insane to ask a friend or family to travel all the way here to pick me up.

Inevitably, I resorted to the earliest departure from Singapore on Saturday morning, at 8. With the clearing of customs, a compulsory 30 minutes stop and getting to town via the LRT all thrown in, it's no wonder that I only managed to reach the Plaza Rakyat station (where the Puduraya terminal is located) at approximately 2 pm.

With half a day wasted on travelling, I felt that I deserve a good meal. Not fastfood that's easily available nor some MSG-rich hawkerfare but something rewarding that's worth the trip back home. I thought hard but nothing registered in my mind. Dad sprung up the magic words that got my world halting for a while (thank goodness I was not driving). He suggested Hokkien Mee.

The Jinjang Selatan wet market was where I spent most of my childhood. The infamous goreng pisang (fried banana fritters) here is still as good and to me, it's one of the best KL has to offer. There's a new fried noodles stall located inside a coffeeshop that had my folks returning regularly for lunch. It's famous for the fried fish soup with rice noodles, actually. Although it's not as aromatic (aka oily) as the more popular ones in town, it certainly fared well in taste. With heaps of preserved vegetables, fried fish, tomatoes, evaporated milk and dried sour plum flavouring the soup, I guess the perfect word to describe it would be INTENSE. Brownish, almost pale, the look of the Hokkien Mee didn't entice me, to be honest. I like mine dark and sticky. Then again, I've learned that dark doesn't always ensure a serving of flavourful Hokkien Mee. And this newfound truth revealed itself yet again, here. Despite the complexion, it was full of wok hei and came with intestines and a generous amount of fried lard cubes, making every bite extra crunchy and aromatic. The savoury stock, combined with sweet dark soy sauce, provided the noodles  with a delicious dressing. And the egg noodles tasted like egg, unlike...nevermind, I'm not going to condemn that well-known Hokkien Mee stall any further. This was an unexpected find that I have Dad to thank for. And Happy Father's Day, by the way.

Weeks later, I found an answer to my midnight coach plight but at the cost of a more expensive ticket. Fine, it's a price that I'm more than willing to pay than to bargain for hours for a ride home. Or to have to waste half of my Saturday on the road. Welcome back, freezing cold, sleep-inducing midnight coaches! And 2 full days of fun and food, with family and friends.

Tian Tian Lai (天天来)
Jinjang Selatan Wet Market
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia