I Can Be Crabby But It Keeps Things Captivating

Much like Tom Yam Gung, Som Tam is likely one of the most lionized lip-smacking local delicacies of Thailand. It is a spicy, sweet and sour salad of shredded green papaya pounded in a mortar with fresh chilies, tomatoes, long beans, fish sauce and palm sugar. As with many other national iconic digestibles everyone seems to have their recipe, but there are some standard variations from the tourist-friendly Som Tum Thai.

If you have noticed the crawly critter in the corner, DON'T PANIC. Allow me to introduce the often overlooked Som Tum Poo (no, not that, poo as in “bpuu” meaning crab in Thai), procured posthaste from the purveyor of portable “papaya pok-pok” who parks at a spot preceding the precincts of my domicile. I also added a portion of Khanom Jeen, a soft white fermented rice noodle often eaten with spicy sauces and raw vegetables (which transforms the salad into Tum Sua). The simple addition of the small crustacean is akin to slipping a sliver of white truffle into an unembellished salad. The result? Sensational alchemy. The fresh piquant flavours of the tangy green papaya, lime juice, hot red chillies sweet tomatoes and palm sugar and the refreshing crunch of juicy long beans can start to fight against each other as the shout for space to scintillate the same senses, so the earthy savoriness of the seafood umami emitted by the tiny crab is a welcome deep undercurrent that dramatically expands the depth of flavour of the dish as a whole. Some may be squeamish at the sight of spindly legs and shiny black shells peeking through your fresh clean veggies but I assure you it is not as extremely exotic as you may think. As a scrumptious shropshire blue is to a plastic wrapped sliced of processed cheese, or a fragrant black truffle is to a can of brine soaked button mushrooms, Tum Poo has a prodigious flavour profile to the straightforward Tum Thai (sans crab) even though both can be as equally satisfying in the right place and at the right time. Besides, isn't it fun to just run around in the streets shouting to strangers that you have crabs?

Lulu, Leelee, Lala Chong

Lala Chong is a casual family style Chinese restaurant in Kuala Lumpur famous for their Lala, also known as clams. Their signature dish is a pile of steaming clams swimming in a platter of Chinese wine broth.  The little morsels are tender but retain that satisfying chewy bite. Delicious, yes, but outshined by the magical elixir that dwells beneath their oval shells. The generous lake of perfectly balanced broth provides the ideal environment to gently enhance the delicate flavours of the clam meat without overpowering them. Drinking the liquid straight provides a whole other delectable sensory experience.

The thin broth is light and smooth, a stark contrast to the bite of the clam. The levels of flavour spread across your palette like a scrumptious seafood zephyr. Infused with the briny fragrance of the clams, the Chinese wine creates a strong platform to support and unify the garlic and chilli which often take the lead whenever they partake in a dish.  You will want a second order, but be warned, the richness of the broth is quite latent and will likely rear its head by the time the second platter reaches the table.

Another dish featuring their namesake Lala is the fried mee hoon. At first glance this noodle dish appears quite ordinary. You’ll find similar looking creations on the streets of Bangkok and in the tightly packed restaurants lining the cobblestone streets of Chinatown in London. You will have to looks closer to see what really makes this unique (not figuratively speaking, if your eyes aren’t great then you probably have to shove your face in and nose your way around some noodles. Please do this at your own risk of complete and utter public etiquette-suicide). Whatever your method of investigation, be it a la Ace Ventura or come CSI, you will realise that the pile of noodles is dotted with dozens of little –really little- tiny baby clams only a few millimetres in size.

Adorable when viewed individually, mildly terrifying when you look at the greater picture and see your noodle platter speckled with yellow and black spots (if you too have a mild fear of swarms or tadpoles or black spots in general. Argh me hearties, ye pirates be warned). But seriously, a good quality fried mee hoon with plenty of toppings and too many miniature clams to count.

I love a fresh steamed fish. Something about the clean light flavours that echo the gently soft texture of the flesh that is to die for. In this case we had a sea bass cleft in twain and steamed in a savoury ginger puree. The prospect of dousing a white fish in copious amounts of pungent ginger may alarm some people. But the culinary alchemy that occurs results in a soft and juicy white fish that works hand in hand with the fragrant warm hum of the ginger sauce. It reminded me a lot of the ginger and sesame dipping sauce that accompanies steamed chicken. Simplicity can do wonders.

This saucy selection is a delicious double whammy. Much like the Lala and its wine broth, these crabs are paired with an equally (or more) coveted sweet and sour gravy. The crabs themselves have been cooked through just enough to firm up their silky meat whilst retaining the precious juices within. When done right, crabs are worth their weight in gold. Just as bikini wrestling is jazzed up by the addition of a jello pool or the humble apple pie is elevated to couture titling with the addition of a scoop of vanilla ice cream, these crabs have been sauced with sweet and sour steroids.

 The bright orange gravy is as vivid in taste as it is in colour. The strength of the sweet, sour and spicy flavours and the smooth viscosity make the sauce ideal for being sucked up and tamed by the adorably fluffy mantou (Chinese buns) that accompany the dish.

The steamed variety is the mantou in its natural pure white form: a clean fluffy bread cloud that acts as a great vehicle for wilder flavours. Its brown counterpart started life the same as the steamed bun but received its golden coat from a quick fry in oil to crisp its exterior giving it an indulgent flavour and additional crunch in the mantou experience.