Step 1: Enter Butterfly Desserts on a quiet weekday night (we enter with a Eunice and leave afterwards to try Menya Hanabi for the very first time).

Step 2: Eat. Eat a lot.

Step 3: Delay writing, not because it’s hard to write, but because it’s hard to know which and what to write first. Your weekends are booked in advance for eating and drinking and more eating and somewhere in between you’re faintly aware of the burgeoning backlog of reviews to-be-posted. Plus birthdays. And weddings. Weekday nights are for purging and editing photos, filtering down the ones that make it and throwing them on to Google Drive, then carrying them over into skeletal blog posts that grow by a word a week.

Step 4: The dessert cafe * is a dining room. See above. Step inside. Shades of the smokehouse at Fraser’s, this. I vaguely recall the soundtrack being quite pleasant, though I can’t honestly remember what was playing. Elevator-jazz (apologies to Seb)? Perhaps.

*Taxonomical purists will undoubtedly grapple with the rapidly-changing classifications emerging in KL’s adolescent food scene. Is Butterfly a dessert cafe? A dessert bar? A generic dessert-place? Each term lends a different framing device for which to judge the products through.

Step 5: Procrastinate. Nurture hobbies. Listen to more music. Start buying notebooks and fountain pens while you wait for the year to end so you can begin properly planning for the new year. Wonder how you made such an incredibly awful beginning – and likely end – to your career. Rewatch Synecdoche New York and Vivre Sa Vie. Struggle to fall asleep after late-night coffee. Wake up to another Monday.

Step 6: Write:

Here comes the orange mango trifle (RM25). How is the orange mango trifle? I scoop in. The spoon slides smoothly in, stutters against solid chunks, then reaches the bottom. I bring it back up, through the layers of orange and mango mousse, occasionally hitting the fresh mango sliced up and interspersed throughout.

Taste-wise? It’s bright, punchy, moist. And anyway mango is always good, isn’t it? Lovely layers of flavour and texture are complemented by the natural sweetness of the mango. The orange does get a bit tart towards the end though. It’s a balancing act that stays almost perfectly poised most of the way through, only sliding away into tartness as we draw closer to the bottom of the jar.

RM25 also gets us a Chocolate Banana. See that crispity chocolate dome on the left? We smash it open with a few strong taps of the spoon. Then we dig into its innards – chocolate ganache, caramel chocolate chantilly, and bits of banana. It’s a dark sort of richness amidst the creamy interior. Word of warning though: when we tried it, the sponge could do with a bit more fluff (or general moistness). There are globules of strawberry jam on the plate, sure, but they serve more of an aesthetic purpose than a moisturising one.

Also, surely this shouldn’t be called a cafe? Shouldn’t the main focus of a cafe be, well, coffee? I suppose that strikes out dessert cafe as an appropriate description of Butterfly.

Step 7: End with the Deconstructed Strawberry Opera. It looks great. Just look at it! It looks great. And good lord are there a lot of ingredients that went into this. Pardon us while we rattle off the list: almond joconde, sponge cake, almond wafer crisp, strawberry cream, strawberry-coated almond, strawberry jelly, dark chocolate ganache, meringue cookies, chantilly cream and strawberry syrup.

Surprisingly, it isn’t quite as tasty as its less visually striking compatriots. Is it the sponge? I think it’s the sponge. It needs, again, more fluff. More airiness, lightness, moistness. Maybe this is how the opera is supposed to be like. You tell me, Handel. Personal preference, perhaps, but I’m very partial to the sort of creamy softness you get with the matcha swiss roll at Henri Charpentier. Dense desserts have never quite been my thing.

Step 7: You can find Butterfly Desserts in Sri Petaling – it’s open from 2 to 10pm daily except on Wednesdays, when it’s closed. It’s over at Unit 3-1, Jalan Radin Bagus 6. They can be reached at 03-9054 0289.

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Come here for the cheesecake and stay for the cheesecake. Also, it’s quite a pretty little place to dine at. And some of the dishes may well be worth the visit.

Take the escalators up through Isetan Lot 10 where the top floor beckons with the instantly recognizable sheets of red, draping luxuriously from the ceiling. It’s a dramatic dining room. Interior impressions aside though, the first thing you’ll likely notice when reaching is the snake-like queue at The Tokyo Restaurant, home to the overwhelmingly popular 6th Avenue Cheesecake. We’ve had it before. Several times. Okay, fine, we’ve had it a lot of times both because we genuinely love it and because we are shameless gluttons. What we haven’t had before was the rest of the food at The Tokyo Restaurant, and we sought to rectify that with our latest visit and to, as one Foodgazer put it, broaden our experiences beyond that of fromagey cake.

Special thanks to TTR and particularly Deborah for hosting us!

As is tradition in Japan, we started off with a salad (editor’s note: it IS tradition there, right? Can we get this fact-checked?). And not your usual ubiquitous soggy caesar salad that’s served as limp as Caesar’s body at the end of War for the Planet of Apes. No, friends, this here is the tofu wakame seaweed salad: a refreshing mix of Japanese tofu, seaweed, katsuoboshi (bonito flakes) and salmon skin. Drizzled with roasted sesame dressing, it was a pleasantly refreshing potpourri of clean flavours to wash away the dredges of alcohol from last night. And these bonito flakes genuinely taste better than the usual fare, which is surprising since they usually aren’t particularly noteworthy in most dishes.

The main thing that stood out, though, was the controlled balance of flavours. In particular, let us consider the dressing. It really was drizzled. And after hundreds of salads (and burgers!) in Malaysia that come with a shocking flood of sauce, this was a very welcome change of pace. Being able to appropriately dress a salad is typically the sign of a measured, controlled hand. And here is a photo of one of the owners of said controlled hands, preparing our next dish. Round of applause, if you please.

Next up was a sushi roll platter (RM 38), featuring a couple of mini roll pieces of, uh, sushi. There was, for instance, the unagi with cream cheese inside. Sure, the unagi isn’t Makoto-level, but it’s a good deal tastier than the average ones around. And the combination with cream cheese is brilliant. The umami meatiness and texture of the unagi is accentuated and complemented with a rich creaminess for a lovely little treat.

The California roll was a California roll (shoutout to Canada). The ikura roll was quite tasty though! I mean, look at that ikura, all plump and ready to explode. We obliged with eager bites that popped the delicate membranes and released the oozes of briny egg-matter or whatever it is these lovely orbs hold within.

Good old lamb. Growing up, I had minimal interaction with other human beings and it was only after the birth and maturing of Foodgazer that I realized there’s an incredibly big group of people out there who just do not like lamb at all. It smells, they say. It’s gamey. It’s gristly. The fat coagulates quickly and becomes a disgusting lip balm when cold. Strongly-flavoured meat is better suited for the peasants. And the list of complaints inevitably goes on and on as they attempt to rationalize the non-consumption of lamb. All well and good, but we fortunately do not have such discriminatory tastebuds. And as such, we gobbled down the “grilled lamb chop saikyo miso style” (RM 50) and tongue-wiped the plate clean afterwards.

As you may be able to make out from the shoddy photo above, there was some lovely caramelization on the lamb. The meat within was cooked medium-well, the fat was well rendered and there was a caramelized glaze glistening on the outside. Then we dipped into the green sauce and were pleasantly surprised by the burst of spice that handily cut through the fat and sent the tastebuds tingling ever so slightly. We were even more surprised to find that the sauce wasn’t supposed to be served with the lamb (as we were informed by the indomitable Deborah who somehow managed to provide us with very attentive service, whilst simultaneously handling a very-packed restaurant) and that it later popped up again with the beef omurice. It was a pleasant surprise though. That sauce works with the lamb, fam.

Oh boy. Look at that pretty pile of dried paprika on top. And you can’t quite see it from these shots but there are some perfectly crisp vegetables right underneath that made us very happy indeed. The chicken karaage itself was pleasant enough without being noteworthy. It did, however, provide a nice, light change of pace between the grilled lambo and…

…the BEEF OMURICE. Omelet. Beef curry. Rice. And the return of that spicy-but-not-too-spicy green chili sauce which rounded everything out with a depth and pleasing undercurrent of warmth. The curry was alright. The default plate is just the curry rice without the omelet but trust us when we say you absolutely have to add the egg on. Mandatory upsell, this (RM 22 + RM 8). It was wondrously fluffy, soft, and swirled; it existed in that uncertain-state of cooked well and not-quite cooked, and we enjoyed it tremendously.

In fact, this Foodgazer returned on a separate day with REDACTED to order the eggu a la carte but to our surprise it wasn’t quite the same. Almost like it needed to be paired with the curry rice and wasn’t made to exist separately.

For dessert, we had the fruits kakigori. Marinated fruit bits, some ginger, mint and mochi were topped with a sorbet. Shoutout to the strawberries which were delicate and delicious. And the mochi was lovely. I mean mochi generally is (how can you not love that bouncy chewy pillowy texture?) but this was especially pleasurable. Decent dessert overall. But it’s not the cheesecake, of course.

And, yeah, we had the cheesecake again.

And again.

Yes, it’s good. That’s not that much that needs to be said about it, really. Give it a shot yourself. Share it with someone. Gripe about work, talk about your travel plans, say the new Bojack season is just out and you’ve already marathoned it, say you don’t understand what you did wrong and why you weren’t good enough and why you couldn’t piece the words together to make her stay just a little longer, and debate the existential necessity of that dollop of cream at the tip of the cake (pictured above). I think it’s essential, frankly. It’s a light, airy fresh cream that doesn’t burst with artificial sweetness. BUT I do think it needs to be placed on the other end. On the thick butt of the cake, you’d get the firmer part of the cheesecake (with the slight bite and dryness as it approaches the burnt end) juxtaposed against the delicate softness of the cream. That’s probably the best way to pair them.

But it does look better this way. So maybe it matters more how it looks from the outside, eh?

Till we meet again, RM 18 cheesecake slice. Keep on haunting our dreams.

The Tokyo Restaurant can be found inside Isetan Lot 10, Bukit Bintang. Head up to the top floor (make a pit stop along the way to touch those incredibly fluffy towels on the 2nd floor). They’re open from 11am to 11pm every day. You can make reservations online or call them at +603-2119 2622.

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Upperhouse serves, amongst other things, some very prettily plated desserts. We dissect their artistic merit and proffer suggested pairings with other works of art.

Miles Davis and Coltrane trade lines on Bye Bye Blackbird. Not over the speakers at Upperhouse, mind you (it’s more of a Top of the Pops vibe there), but over mine at home as I type this review. I’m in a pensive mood. The sugar has long dissolved away into my blood stream, or whatever it is desserts do once they enter my fat-laden sludgepile of a body. I stare at my notes (Uniball Signo DX 0.38, brown, on a Mossery mini notebook). They’re not much help. They’re concrete words, lines on gridless paper, expressions translating the experience from the realm of ideas to the structured land of the living. But that’s not quite sufficient to accurately encapsulate our time at Upperhouse.

Upperhouse is, we quickly came to realize, a parlour of post-painterly abstraction with desserts as the medium of choice. Here, the shortcake is deconstructed into the ideas and preconception surrounding the notion of a shortcake – and reconstructed to challenge the modern viewer (or, in this case, eater). And indeed each person comes to the plate with their own worldview-crafted lens through which they view the dessert, and leaves with a unique impression and a lighter wallet.

It’s reflected in their interiors too. The decor seems scattershot at first glance, a potpourri of influences and child-friendly nooks and Wesselmann without the male gaze. Peer closer, work that noggin harder, and you can just about see a net of connections in the metaphorical madness. It is what you bring to it, and what you bring from it afterwards. Also, it’s very baby-friendly.

We started with some liquid nourishment.

First order of business: kombucha. The green tea unadulterated kombucha to start with. The first sip of a kombucha is always the most interesting one, before your palate acclimatises to the batch at hand. This one has a strong head of vinegar, a sort of general fizziness around the body, and the slight trace of tea around the end. More zippy soda than sparky fermentation. Also, kombucha always makes me think of that line from Amanda Chong’s Professions: “I imagined our intestines lighting up with neon gardens // bouquets of cells watered by milky elixir beginning an interminable dance, spinning into trillions.”

The passionfruit and mint kombucha is a more noteworthy entry. The vinegar is offset by the mint and the passionfruit rounds out the body with a sweetness that is generally welcome though may be overwhelming for some. To the desserts then.

APPLE

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: Xiu Xiu – Plays the Music of Twin Peaks; Seamus Heaney – North

If reconstruction is the new black and Fast Good is the new reconstruction, then maybe the humble apple deserves its time in the limelight of re-imagination too. Here we have hazelnut, chrysanthemum, vanilla and an apple celery sorbet at the centre. The sorbet is more resistive and crumbly than smooth, more like the pulp or the essence of biting into a fleshy apple and around it are the thin slices accentuating the illusion, and the nuts giving it a very, very necessary weight.

And after all, what makes an apple an apple? Is it the apple itself or the sensation and belief that one is indeed eating an apple? APPLE suggests it’s the latter. These are RM18 of non-apple elements thrown together to reference – subtly or otherwise – the mouthfeel and the texture and the smell and the feel of an apple, and create the symbol of an apple from without. Does it work? Quite.

CARROT

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: The Wooden Wolf – 14 ballads Op. 1; Deborah Levy – Hot Milk

Robust (apologies to Veep). There is a solid heaviness to the plate – or, well, what’s on the plate itself. And that’s walnut, greek yoghurt, honeycomb, and burnt honey ice cream. It’s like taking a bit of a carrot cake, slapping on a good yoghurt parfait and finishing it off with some good (but a bit cloying in large portions) burnt honey ice cream. An accomplished dish. It whets our appetite for more. And more we get, followed first by the

STRAWBERRY

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: Meg Myers – Sorry; Lena Andersson – Wilful Disregard

Hi shortcake. Hi exploration and evisceration and amputation of said shortcake. Homemade strawberry sorbet. Refreshing. Cotton cake. Juxtaposition. Of many things, but particularly of the dried and fresh strawberries. The former is sour and resistive to the bite. The latter is sliced and small and tart. I say let’s get drinks and you ask where. Hazelnut. Again the hazelnut, but this time in a different context. It doesn’t ground as much as lift. Basil, across the plate, drawn in scraped lines, and you say you wonder where they’re from, these people standing around the bar, and I’m not sure. Watermelon. Wait, watermelon? It’s there. We return to the cotton cake because it sticks to the teeth. But that’s not the cotton cake. The cotton cake is fine. It’s tasty. That’s the stick of white, soft, candy-whatever. Is it necessary? It’s here. It’s here anyway. Vanilla? There are flowers. Maybe it’s not necessary, but maybe the point isn’t if it’s necessary. Maybe the shortcake isn’t necessary in the grand scheme of things, and maybe few things are, and maybe it depends what the grand scheme even is, but it isn’t as sweet as I thought it’d be and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it and would recommend it.

Mille-Feuille

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: Low – I Could Live in Hope; Raymond Carver – Beginners

There’s hay ice cream in here. Hay! Is it the Hruskova-style infusion? Perhaps. It looks similar. It tastes like tea, but it’s sweet, very sweet, a sweetness that soothes at first then grows and grows and threatens to envelop everything. On to the mille-feuille itself then. It’s 2015 again. We crunch into the puff pastry, the orange milk chocolate mousse, the pineapple and almonds. It’s the 18th century again. But prettier, so much prettier.

Textures of chocolates

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: La Dispute – Wildlife; A girl who loves Bojack, dive bars, and Ann Dem

Here comes the burnt honey ice cream again. You remember it, of course, from CARROT. It hasn’t changed. Your tongue is quickly reacquainted with it. This time the supporting cast has changed. Or rather the point of the plate has changed. This is, as the name suggests, about the varying textures of the 70% Callebaut dark chocolate, augmented by the toasted rice strewn across the dish. And boy, do they vary. And also, what a pretty plate. They all are, really. The plating at Upperhouse is exquisite.

LEMON

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: Aiko Shimada – Blue Marble; David Maine – Fallen

One of our favourite plates, this. RM22 gets you a reconstructed lemon tart with a refreshing palette of complementary and contrasting flavours. Take for instance the soothing nuttiness of the coconut ice cream against the tanginess of the raspberry, or the vanilla and lavender on the tart lemon curd. Tasty stuff. And likely one of the more accessible desserts on show, which perhaps says a bit about our unrefined Gazer-palates. Would be wonderful after a savoury meal – which, incidentally, Upperhouse has too. They’re not just about desserts here, as we’d soon see with our final item:

Afternoon Tea Set

Foodgae’s suggested pairings: Bottomless stomach; A Sunday afternoon to spare

First off, value. We’re all about value here, mainly due to our penniless wallets and sky-high personal debt. RM65 for the tea set is pretty great value for what you get: two tiers of their dessert selections, one tier of savoury food, and a first floor view of Telawi. It’s really a pretty handy sampler set of Upperhouse’s offerings (Mille-Feuille, macarons, chocolate pralines, dark chocolate cake, passionfruit trifle, raspberry banana bread, Cacao Ravioli, sandwiches and parmesan breadsticks) and it’s our suggested entry point into the world of Upperhouse. That’s quite a wide spread, after all. Or, if you scoff at the idea of toe-dipping, you could dive right in with some of their individual desserts. You do you. 

Opening hours

Tuesday – Friday: 11am – 10pm
Saturday & Sunday: 9am – 10pm
Closed on Monday

Address 27-A, Jalan Telawi 3, Bangsar Baru, 59100 Kuala Lumpur
Telephone +6011-28720083

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