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?

Spicy Stingray: Stand By For Action!

Back to the streets of KL with this delectable delight for any connoisseurs of colloquial cuisine, particularly those with a preference for pelagic provender or in other words foodies fond of fish. Cod, salmon, tuna, sardine – these are all names that we encounter far too often on supermarket shelves and in restaurant menus of every caliber. Aside from problems with overfishing and sustainability, these poor fishes could really use a break from the fisherman's spotlight just as our taste buds should be given a fresh zephyr of seafaring flavours. 

Whether freshwater or oceanic, we all want a taste of sunshine and fresh flowing water when we dine on fish and other aquatic animals. Stingray provides just that. So it may not share the same visual appearance as a stereotypical snapper on a dinner plate, in fact, its broad flat physique may perplex people as to how one could possibly enjoy eating any part of its discus like form. Let me enlighten those who have yet to experience the delicate wonders of the snow white flesh of the stingray. The spines of cartilage that spread through the fish lay flat and are partially fused forming a stiff ridged platform with full steaks of solid supple without any bony interruptions. Just get whatever your eating utensil is (fork, spoon, chopsticks, fingers) and nudge the flesh from one edge and watch as it slides off like a giant tectonic slab of juicy protein goodness. 

This particular piece has been smothered in spicy chili paste and grilled in a banana leaf. It is then served with sliced okra and a cut calamansi for you to squeeze over everything. The chili paste is crammed with intense flavour. You'll get sucker-punched with salt, your sinuses slapped with scorching heat and a smokey savoriness will scintillate your senses and leave you salivating for more. That little calamansi adds much more than its petite size gives it credit for. The tart sour with a hint of sweet and fresh citrus cuts right through the richness of the chili without breaking a sweat. And let's not forget about the star of the show, the stingray! Don't let the pale opaque flakes of succulent flesh fool you into thinking it is meek and flavourless. It stands up to the seemingly overpowering chaos of the chili. The calm gentle cool compliments the fiery madness perfectly. I really do love my grilled stingray :) Stingray! Stingray! Anything can happen in the next half hour!!

A Small Sum of Asam

This food stop was at Cafe Mark in One Utama. If I hadn't been taken there by regular diners I might not have noticed the inconspicuous establishment. The modest entrance and decor reflect the simple local style of food served. But don't let the quaint quietude put you off, this cafe is famous for a fragrant fiery feast of Asam Laksa.

Asam is a soup based on the tangy tamarind. It is sour and spicy and packed with fresh fragrant herbs and vegetables for an extra zesty boost. What's great about this style of laksa is that it satisfies your cravings for chili and curry-esque spices without the added richness of coconut milk. The tang of tamarind, menthol of mint and heat of chili all work together in one refreshing noodle bowl. Mark's is also surprisingly generous with the fish meat which soaks up the bold broth.

Keeping with the asam theme, we ordered a plate of Asam Sting Ray. Yes, sting ray. I love sting ray. The flesh is the most moist, delicate, white fish meat you will ever eat. Having a single smooth plane of conjoined cartilage instead of finicky invisible needles is also a plus when diving into a bite of ray. Here they are prepared in an asam sauce and served with okra or ladies fingers to the locals. They also give you a plate of rice and mixed vegetables for an afoordable set lunch price.

Shovelling all the spicy acidic sauces down my throat, I definitely needed a hydrating cooler to quench the would-be stomach ulcer burning its way through my digestive track. Cincau to the rescue! If I am ever hot, thirsty or need a gastronomic fire extinguisher, this cooling grass jelly drink always rises to the challenge. Soothing, smooth and filled with silky strands of jelly. I want one. Now.

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.