We had forgotten how great KL is to visit.
Since we came last time for our sillymoon, it has only got better. We are staying virtually next door to the hotel we used that time, so recognize some parts of the neighbourhood.
There is a new mall, though, just across the road from J W Marriott's, which is only five years old. It's called the Pavilion.
There are lots of floors of shops, all wrapped around a central atrium. All the decorations are about Chinese New Year, so is all very orange.
On the top level is all the restaurants, and the very bottom floor has the food court. This afternoon, we had a snack from a shop called Breadtalk. We first found this chain in Singapore, and think it may be Japanese. The bread is sweet, and insanely soft. I went back after dinner and got a slice of something they call Chantilly for desert. Sponge, cream and calories in exponentially increasing proportions. Decadence rules.
For dinner we went back to the mall, and settled on Thai. We are going to have Indian up the wazoo from a few days time, and Thai is Sarah's other staple.
I was introduced to both Thai and Indian food at a rather late time in my life. In fact it was Sarah who introduced me to both. Remember I grew up in a society without ethnic food. There was nothing in Rangiora, and I only ever saw a Chinese restaurant in Christchurch. I even went there a couple of times as a teenager. Sheltered upbringing for the white guy.
And then there was Sarah. For Indian it was Little India in Christchurch. For Thai it was Sala Thai, also in Christchurch. Sala Thai has been closed since the second earthquake, and Sarah has been in mourning ever since. Literally 2 days before this trip, we were told that the guy who owned Sala Thai was working at a takeaway at Hei Hei. We go to see him, buy some food and are told he will reopen Sala Thai on Ferry road in a few weeks. Happy girl.
Anyway, these were my first experiences of each food type, so became the benchmarks for me to compare others to. This is when I discovered something interesting about ethnic food. I don't think this has appeared in a previous blog, but it is worth repeating even if it has.
Go to a western restaurant and order steak and chips, and you will know exactly what to expect. I suppose it is the McDonalds effect. Go to any store and get a consistent result.
Pretty much the same with any European food. With ethnic food? Not so much.
Thai green curry tastes completely different in every Thai restaurant. And none are as good as my benchmark from Sala Thai.
Same with Indian. Ask for chicken tika masala at five Indian restaurants, and get five completely different curries. None of them as good as Little India.
They might as well abandon all names for their curries, just as they have abandoned a consistent recipe. It might as well be curry number 42.
Anyway, we had the Thai, and I chose chicken green curry. Benchmarking, I said. Boring, Sarah said.
The chilli guide in the menu gave this one chilli for hot. Two chillis they call volcanic. They should have labeled this a two. I could feel my hairline getting wet, but Sarah insisted my eyes were not bleeding.
Don't get me wrong, I have a certain tolerance to hot food. Sarah started me off on mild, and I have progressed to medium. I have also progressed from Butter Chicken through Korma, to Tikka Masala. Yay me. I could also tell when she was pissed off at me for something, because she became a little heavy-handed with the spices when she made dinner.
I never could understand the reason people order hot. What are they trying to prove? I can understand it if they grew up with it. White mans food must be so bland to them.
I remember when I met Sarah, the only hot sauce available was Tabasco. She would put it on everything. She would put it on corn flakes if she could get away with it.
She eventually found another sauce she liked. It was made in Christchurch, surprisingly. This guy who called himself Dr Hot had set up a business to import and make hot sauces. He had a crappy little shop on the hill, and eventually opened a very nice shop in Manchester St., over the road from Two Fat Indians restaurant, called Aaji.
Anyway, we found a range of his sauces in Pak-n-Save of all places. They were distinctive by the names he gave them. The one Sarah liked was called Anal Annihilator, and it had the tag line "guaranteed to burn you twice". At Pak-n-Save! I know! I'll bet the buyer had to explain THAT decision to the boss.
For those who like their food hotter than the average white man, there are ways. At Thai restaurants, there is the standard mild, medium and hot. Then there is Thai hot. This is how they make it for themselves. Ask for THAT if you dare.
At Indian restaurants, it has often been regarded that Vindaloo is the hottest dish. There is one more. It's called Findaloo!
Back to tonight's dinner. We didnt ask for Thai hot, but that's sure what I got. Holy crap! Lets hope that is just an expletive and not a premonition of things to come.
Since we came last time for our sillymoon, it has only got better. We are staying virtually next door to the hotel we used that time, so recognize some parts of the neighbourhood.
There is a new mall, though, just across the road from J W Marriott's, which is only five years old. It's called the Pavilion.
On the top level is all the restaurants, and the very bottom floor has the food court. This afternoon, we had a snack from a shop called Breadtalk. We first found this chain in Singapore, and think it may be Japanese. The bread is sweet, and insanely soft. I went back after dinner and got a slice of something they call Chantilly for desert. Sponge, cream and calories in exponentially increasing proportions. Decadence rules.
For dinner we went back to the mall, and settled on Thai. We are going to have Indian up the wazoo from a few days time, and Thai is Sarah's other staple.
I was introduced to both Thai and Indian food at a rather late time in my life. In fact it was Sarah who introduced me to both. Remember I grew up in a society without ethnic food. There was nothing in Rangiora, and I only ever saw a Chinese restaurant in Christchurch. I even went there a couple of times as a teenager. Sheltered upbringing for the white guy.
And then there was Sarah. For Indian it was Little India in Christchurch. For Thai it was Sala Thai, also in Christchurch. Sala Thai has been closed since the second earthquake, and Sarah has been in mourning ever since. Literally 2 days before this trip, we were told that the guy who owned Sala Thai was working at a takeaway at Hei Hei. We go to see him, buy some food and are told he will reopen Sala Thai on Ferry road in a few weeks. Happy girl.
Anyway, these were my first experiences of each food type, so became the benchmarks for me to compare others to. This is when I discovered something interesting about ethnic food. I don't think this has appeared in a previous blog, but it is worth repeating even if it has.
Go to a western restaurant and order steak and chips, and you will know exactly what to expect. I suppose it is the McDonalds effect. Go to any store and get a consistent result.
Pretty much the same with any European food. With ethnic food? Not so much.
Thai green curry tastes completely different in every Thai restaurant. And none are as good as my benchmark from Sala Thai.
Same with Indian. Ask for chicken tika masala at five Indian restaurants, and get five completely different curries. None of them as good as Little India.
They might as well abandon all names for their curries, just as they have abandoned a consistent recipe. It might as well be curry number 42.
Anyway, we had the Thai, and I chose chicken green curry. Benchmarking, I said. Boring, Sarah said.
The chilli guide in the menu gave this one chilli for hot. Two chillis they call volcanic. They should have labeled this a two. I could feel my hairline getting wet, but Sarah insisted my eyes were not bleeding.
Don't get me wrong, I have a certain tolerance to hot food. Sarah started me off on mild, and I have progressed to medium. I have also progressed from Butter Chicken through Korma, to Tikka Masala. Yay me. I could also tell when she was pissed off at me for something, because she became a little heavy-handed with the spices when she made dinner.
I never could understand the reason people order hot. What are they trying to prove? I can understand it if they grew up with it. White mans food must be so bland to them.
I remember when I met Sarah, the only hot sauce available was Tabasco. She would put it on everything. She would put it on corn flakes if she could get away with it.
She eventually found another sauce she liked. It was made in Christchurch, surprisingly. This guy who called himself Dr Hot had set up a business to import and make hot sauces. He had a crappy little shop on the hill, and eventually opened a very nice shop in Manchester St., over the road from Two Fat Indians restaurant, called Aaji.
Anyway, we found a range of his sauces in Pak-n-Save of all places. They were distinctive by the names he gave them. The one Sarah liked was called Anal Annihilator, and it had the tag line "guaranteed to burn you twice". At Pak-n-Save! I know! I'll bet the buyer had to explain THAT decision to the boss.
For those who like their food hotter than the average white man, there are ways. At Thai restaurants, there is the standard mild, medium and hot. Then there is Thai hot. This is how they make it for themselves. Ask for THAT if you dare.
At Indian restaurants, it has often been regarded that Vindaloo is the hottest dish. There is one more. It's called Findaloo!
Back to tonight's dinner. We didnt ask for Thai hot, but that's sure what I got. Holy crap! Lets hope that is just an expletive and not a premonition of things to come.
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