Let’s get it out of the way first: Palillos deserves to be in the conversation for top 3 yakitori joints in KL alongside Torii and Sumika. Sure, we’re only basing that off of two visits – one on the house (many thanks to the gracious hosts and the inexhaustible supply of skewers) and one on our overextended credit card – but we’ve never been shy of making bold, often premature, claims. And to qualify the proclamation, there are a number of other yakitori spots on our To-Eat list (Kushiyaki Kuni, Toritama, Toridoki etc). For now though, it’s on to Palillos!

And you’ll find Palillos at the top of a stairwell, wedged between Family Mart and Pinchos (owned by the same people behind Palillos). It’s in that nefarious realm of Changkat, just down the hill from Bijan, Nerovivo and Bottega (bless their cold cuts and cheeses and dried pastas).

No night is complete without a drink, as we often slur to ourselves, and so we pre-emptively began the journey to completion with a few of them. There’s the highball (RM23), which is seeing a bit more airtime around the Klang Valley. Palillos’ version is alright. The whisky is fairly muted. There’s a mild, almost meek, lemon-ess enveloping the drink, a good contrast to the overly citrusy renditions of some spots. Highballs always make us long for an old fashioned though, which makes us long for a whisky on the rocks, which…anyway, moving on to the yuzu fizz (RM29).

And if you think the highball is getting its time in the limelight, what about yuzu? Good heavens. It’s everywhere! Dessert Bar by Stanley Choong has a number of yuzu pieces, there’s the yuzu ice cream at Oribe (our pal Jonathan reviews it on Youtube here), and you’re more likely to find yuzu than a rice bowl nowadays. Potent reminder of that here: the yuzu kicks through immediately. It’s nicer than the highball. I was still drinking when the food started arriving and the food kept coming in batches, wave after endless wave, until I staggered off in submission, texted the girl I was seeing up until that point, and stumbled back for more food.

Boquerones are, Google informs us, fresh anchovies that are typically marinated in vinegar and olive oil. We had them with roasted capsicum, some ginger and, uh, sushi-ish rice. Initial misgivings quickly dissipated, echoing the dish itself. The initial ginger note, see, is very strong. It sizzles and bites the tongue. But after that sharp initial whip, it quickly dissipates, giving way to the quiet richness of the anchovies on the bed of rice.

Then came another off-menu item: fuet, a Catalan cured meat. Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy. It’s a thick sausage dotted with pockets of pork fat that make for a very nice textural bite indeed. It’s more savoury and not as sweet as its Chinese counterpart lap cheong, and that’s a good thing in our books. Oh, and the fuet goes on top of some nice crusty bread with tomato rubbed on it. Excellent.

The Mizuna salad (RM24) is a bit of a misstep though. See those red bits on top? That’s serrano ham, toasted until crispy. Sounds good on blog-paper but we found them to be overly toasted in person, to the point where it’s hard to taste the actual flavour of the ham. All that’s left is the texture. And it sits on a bed of kaiwara sprouts, shocked in ice water, for a very crisp finish that echoes the texture of the ham rather than complements it. We quite like the sprouts and the ponzu dressing, but the serrano ham feels like a waste.

The ceviche (RM27) fares better. The yuzu returns as a marinade this time. The prawns are robust. The octopus has a nice bite to it but there’s not much flavour to it (although, keep an eye out for the reappearance of the octopus later in this post). It’s all about the fish here – lovely texture, lovely taste. And the ceviche as a whole was surprisingly satisfying, given that some places can go overboard with the acidity and sourness.

The grilled whole eggplant costs RM15 and is worth every single 5-sen. There’s pine nuts, olive oil, soy sauce, bonito flakes, all coming together for a deft offering that immediately brings to mind Sumika’s version. It’s soft inside with a nice rich umami depth, but it never dissolves into that sticky-mulchy territory that poorly cooked eggplants fall into.

Chicken liver pate (RM 19) is another standout item (and we haven’t even reached the skewers section yet). The smell is intoxicating. It’s rich without being as funky as other spots (cough cough Hello by Kitchen Mafia), and it blooms even more as it slowly warms. Such a lovely buttery richness throughout too. Could there perhaps be some fat inside? And good lord, that texture! It’s almost like a jelly in its smoothness, but it lacks the slimy gloopiness of actual jelly. Instead, it’s thick, savoury, and immensely satisfying. Smear it over the slices of toast and revel.

Alright, folks, it’s skewer time! Eryngii mushroom is up first and lord does this set the tone. So juicy inside! And no trace of that slimy gunk you sometimes get with fungi. Fresh with a touch of funk, like RHCP right after Frusciante returned.

Then there’s the good old staple, chicken skin (RM6). It’s a sort of litmus test for the amount of work that the kitchen is willing to put in, and Palillos easily passes. It’s crisp, fatty, almost like an essence of chicken concentrated into a crackling package.

Oh, and the sauce here is fantastic. Spicy, savoury, salty, perfect. Dip (and double dip) liberally. Get refills.

Also…I’ve never particularly liked rice balls to be honest but if you do, this one is pretty good I guess. There’s a crisp exterior with butter melting on top. It’s oozy inside. It’s RM9.

But what I do love is garlic. I really, really love garlic. And to this day my favourite way to cook them has to be slow-roasted in an oven, until it crisps and blackens on the outside and purees on the inside. Grilled garlic (RM4) is a close second though. Think of it as a milder version of the intense oven-roasted bulbs. It awakens the nose. It opens up the palate. It gets you ready for the next wave of skewers.

And on to the soft bones (RM6). There’s less of a char on these than at Sumika but yeah the flavour is there. Sumika is more focused on the crunchy texture but that’s not to say these are shrinking violets in the crunch department. Give them a shot, especially if you love soft bones like we do.

And we take a brief sojourn away from the skewers for this taco-thing: wasabi on grilled pork (lovely with the perfect ratio of rich, melting fat to succulent meat) on rice on leaf on seaweed. Bundle, pop in, knock back some sake, ruminate (should I get that suit on sale at COS? Or should I sell my wardrobe to fund a Dries Van Noten blazer?), mock Rupi Kaur on Facebook, look up to see more skewers. Skewers like the grilled scamorza:

Smoked cheese, says the menu. Smoked cheese with truffle oil for RM11. That’s one way of putting it. We’d probably go for something like “TRY THIS NOW” because this is a semi-soft smoked curd cheese (Scamorza!) with a fantastic springy bite, and a meaty, almost savoury finish. It’s decadent. It’s lovely. It’s finished way too quickly and we stare longingly at the bare skewers after we’ve slid their skewed-content into our eager mouths.

The chicken hearts (RM 4) arrive. We pop them in, write “lovely” on our Foodgazer notebook, and continue pining for the Scamorza.

And often we
consume
those we love
– not Rupi Kaur

Baby potatoes on skewers next, with bravas sauce (RM4). Fantastically crisp skin without being overly fried or burnt. Crispy like the best baked potatoes. Inside, to our surprise, it’s not starchy or thick and fluffy. Instead, it’s soft, tender, clean. The bravas sauce is nice too (not quite Marta’s Kitchen but it does the job).

And another detour off menu – pork front hock, mirin, vinegar, salt and pepper. Fatty. Dripping with fat. The fat bursts in the mouth. Lovely taste but it verges on being too peppery as they went a bit overboard to compensate for the fattiness. Could legitimately see this going on the menu after a bit of fine-tuning though: would be a great way to end the week eh?

I can see this being the main draw for some. It’s the iberico pork belly with wasabi (RM10). The meat is sublime when eaten right off the grill. It’s lustrous, luxurious, almost dangerously sensuous in the mouth. There’s a smokiness that lingers in the nose as you bite through the crisp browned exterior, down into the luscious, thick, coating fattiness. I mean that fat content is just insane. It’s borderline perverse. I let out an involuntary guttural groan then quickly peek around the table to see if anyone caught me in the throes of foodgasm. Safe this time. Everyone’s eyes are closed, heads thrown back. I go in for another bite. You see that wasabi on top, yes? It’s smeared and smattered and it cuts gently through the fat in throbbing layers.

And yes, I know that sounds bizarre and overblown but that’s the best way to describe the experience. It pulses in the mouth. You taste smoke, then fat, then the nasal heat of wasabi, then fat, then it repeats in gentle pulses.

But we’re not done yet.

In come the jamon-wrapped prawns (RM9), and what a delight they are. Plump, relatively huge, and juicy as anything. The smokiness and the ham give the body a perfect roundness, rather like how the sweetness of mantis prawns are juxtaposed by the charcoal smokiness of a CKT.

The pork neck (RM5) is next. It’s more chewy than the belly. It’s less fatty. There’s more meat to it. The onion adds a bit of light sweetness. It’s good, not great. It’s there for variation and choice.

Ah, onions (RM10). Bit of salt. Some sesame oil. And that grill brings it together into a delectable parcel – it’s soft and sweet while retaining a crunch you wouldn’t get with its caramelized counterpart. Pretty crazy how sweet this gets though.

Nothing says Yakitori quite like chicken wings, which is a bit surprising when you consider how difficult it is to pull them off. The ones here (RM14) were perfect on the first visit. Soft, almost creamy inside, with gloriously crisped skin. On the second visit though, they were overseasoned. And come to think of it, we’ve had up and down experiences with the chicken wings at Torii (underseasoned during the latest visit and could be crispier), at Maruhi Sakaba (touch underseasoned) and even at Sumika (seasoning on point but the flesh isn’t as luxurious as Palillos’).

You can get the skewer version of the Spanish octopus (RM19) or you can go all out with a whole leg/tentacle for RM75. Look at it. Just look at it.

It’s creamy, it’s rich, it’s soft on the inside. And on the outside there’s a fantastic, deep smokiness from the grill and from the pimenton paprika. It pairs amazingly well with the house red we had.

Now bear in mind that it has a bit more bite to it than the rendition at Marta’s Kitchen, which I wouldn’t say is a negative attribute in any way. If anything, it makes it fit better within the conceit of Spanish Yakitori.

Dates, bacon, blue cheese. It assaults the nostrils as soon as it plops down on the table, with a thick, unyielding pungency. Inside: oozing hot, melty, gooey cheese bursting against ripe sweet dates.

You’d think at this point there’s not much Palillos can pull out to further impress us. And that’s precisely when they whipped this beauty out: grilled iberico short loin (RM53) served with shishito. Salt is cracked on top. Thick, thick, thick fattiness reminiscent of an Old Engine Oil beer in terms of mouthfeel – it coats the mouth and rolls around the more you bite in and swallow. It’s incredibly juicy and oily and we don’t know where one ends and the other begins. Then there’s the peppers – the bitterness still tingles the tip of the tongue but the heat is very mild. It acts as a sort of astringent juxaposition that undercuts the fattiness of the pork.

The chorizo and deep-fried bread was – surprise – also great. Interestingly enough, the chorizo itself is alright. It’s, well, chorizo. Pardon the sacrilege but I’ve never had particularly noteworthy chorizo. The bread though…what is this sorcery? They tell us it’s just their usual bread drizzled with olive oil then grilled together with the chorizo. And so I repeat: what is this sorcery? The texture is amazing. It’s almost like a cookie dough in its chewiness and resistance, but the elasticity and bite remind us, for a brief moment, of the cheese curds in a poutine.

Oh and we had some Baines Pacharan (not pictured) Spanish liquer. Lots of berry sweetness on the notes, with some stinging anise notes at the end once the body dissipates. Very sweet. Pairs well with the fattier skewers.

Out come the desserts. This one is from Pinchos though, not Palillos – it’s a chocolate mousse (lovely texture and mouthfeel, almost gelato-like) on top of crispy biscuits. And of course, sea salt is always a great complement for good chocolate. Avid IG followers will know we aren’t the biggest dessert fans but we’ll make an exception for this beauty.

And we ended the night on another sweet note: RM6 grilled marshmallows with strawberries for the table. Yeah, I know, it looks too sweet. I expected an overwhelming cloying sweetness, but shame on me for doubting Palillos, I guess. It’s just the perfect level for a satisfying end to a satisfying night. It made us think of better things and better times, of fairytale endings from childhoods past, of school outings and holidays before we fell into the cycle of capitalistic wage-slavery. We melted marshmallows over open fires then, at Templar’s Park and camp sites, and waited to grow old. And maybe these little grilled pillows remind us of those fluffier times. Maybe.

And that’s all for now, folks. Go and try Palillos.

Palillos is open from 5.30pm to 1am on Mondays to Thursdays and 5.30pm to 2am on Fridays and Saturdays. They’re closed on Sundays. Give them a call at +603-2110 5051 to make a reservation. 

Search for their location on Waze/Google Maps or head over to the small stairwell in between Pinchos and Family Mart.

The post Palillos (Spanish Yakitori: best yakitori?) appeared first on Foodgazer.

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.

The post The Tokyo Restaurant @ Isetan Lot 10 appeared first on Foodgazer.

Most classic pairings we see nowadays are rooted in the proximity of local ingredients to each other. Looking to Europe as an example, lamb has long been the staple meat of many of the major wine regions (see: Bordeaux, Greece, Rioja etc). This concept of terroir, the belief that the land itself imparts its characteristics onto the produce, means these classic pairings were more of what landed on the table from the day’s harvest or trip to the market. The rationale here being what grows together would probably taste good together.

So the Foodgazers found themselves in Persiaran Ampang on a Thursday night once again, this time for a wine tasting. Sapore is a relative newcomer among the established eateries on the street, specialising in Mediterranean fare with a focus on the Italian. This comes as no surprise as both Federico (who helms the kitchen) and Fabio (front of house) hail from Europe’s big boot. We were lucky enough to attend their inaugural wine night (2nd Thursday of every month), on which the focus was on the long term relationship between Italy’s cheese and wine.

First up, a thick slice of Parmigiano Reggiano (also known as Parmesan) arrives on the table. Hailing from the region of Reggio Emilia, the cheese has oft been called the King of Cheeses. A hard, dry cheese which is aged for a minimum of two years, we were served a slice from the 32 month old specimen on top of a pear slice. As one of the cheeses containing the highest concentration of glutamates (natural MSG), the crumbly texture gives way to a huge umami bomb. Instructed to crumble the cheese with our hands, we were taken aback by the sheer nutty savouriness as it melted slowly in the mouth. The pear slice delicately balanced the palate, cutting through the fat with its gentle acidity and fruitiness.

Paired with a glass of Villa Sandi Prosecco, a sparkling wine from Venice, the fresh fruity dryness of the wine was a great pairing for the cheese. Very floral on the nose with bites of crisp pear and notes of lemon on the finish which cut through the fatty richness of the Parmigiano. Even more interesting was the interplay between the cheese crystals and the wine on the tongue as they popped and fizzled with a bubbly effervescence, leaving the palate clean. Lovely stuff.

And so we move onto softer things with this washed-rind cheese from Val Tallegio. The aroma from this one was intoxicating, with a pungent barnyard earthiness arresting the senses. The unctuous (what a word), gooey texture of the cheese belied a creamy sweetness with just a hint of truffle towards the end. Accompanied by an apple marmalade whose sweetness further lifted the earthy notes. One of the favourites of the night.

The accompaniment this time a summery Tuscan white wine, straw-coloured with a heady floral bouquet. On the palate, bites of lemony apple finishing with a very curious almond twist. A very interesting flavour profile, especially that whiff of almonds at the end which matched the lingering aftertaste of the taleggio like a firm handshake between old friends. Spot on.

Pecorino refers to cheeses made from sheep’s milk, a famed example being  Pecorino Romano, the key ingredient in Roman pastas like carbonara or cacio e pepe. For our 3rd course of the night we were served its Tuscan cousin, a firm-textured ewe’s milk cheese. Milder than its more illustrious Roman counterpart, it still has that herbaceous, grassy aroma associated with sheep cheeses with a soft nutty flavour. The grapes here provided a good shot of acid to the proceedings and that rich walnut pesto could easily be eaten with a hearty bowl of pasta. Possibly the most interesting pairing of food ingredients that night.

Ah, Chianti. Made infamous by one Hannibal Lecter regarding its good pairing with liver and fava beans in Silence of the Lambs (excellent film and acting masterclass). A medium-bodied, high acid red wine that opens up with a nose full of red fruit. What follows is a dry flavour profile dominated by plum and dark fruit that lingers on the tongue. A great burst of grape that balances out the rich grassy flavours of the cheese. Easy drinking.

Blue cheeses are like the durian of the cheese world. To most Asians, the almost rotten pungency of the cheese is an acquired taste, dividing opinions like the King of Fruits. Fortunately, unlike durian, I love my blue cheese. This Italian gorgonzola doesn’t quite assault the senses with the same aggression as Roquefort or Stilton, but is still full of that deep, dark funk that consumes the senses. The richness is offset by the tart dried plums and the honey a soothing balm for a now well-exercised tongue. Chief Foodgazer found the honey here overly sweet but I mopped up the whole piece gladly.

A heavyweight cheese calls for a heavyweight wine and thus the final pairing was this strong Sicilian red. Full-bodied, a bit spicy on the nose with very dark fruit and vanilla tones. The palate opens up to more dark fruit, plums, hints of tobacco and vanilla spice. Smooth finish with a slight bitter aftertaste that helps cut through the sweet honey glaze. A good book-end to the pairings.

Complimentary house-made foccacia was served throughout. Light and airy with sundried tomatoes.

A bowl of aglio olio capped off the night, once again on the house. The spaghetti was perfectly al-dente and the aroma of garlic and olive oil was a great send-off. Perhaps a touch light on the salt to balance out all the cheesiness we endured.

All in all, a thoroughly entertaining affair with some quality Italian produce on display. Service was warm, attentive and given an intimate touch with the personal anecdotes from both Chef Federico and Fabio who explained each pairing in detail. Priced at RM108, great value to be had. For those interested in any forthcoming wine events at Sapore, they will be having a Spanish themed event which you can follow here as well as a night of Puglian cuisine. Till next time, the Foodgazers bid you arrivederci.

Sapore
18 Persiaran Ampang,
Off Jalan Ampang,
Kuala Lumpur
Daily, 2pm-1130pm
Tel: 03-4266-6362

The post When the cheese is divine and so is the wine – that’s Sapore appeared first on Foodgazer.

As at 22 Oct 2017, Chocha Foodstore is a mixed bag of a cafe. Some dishes were good the last time we tried them (especially the cincalok fried chicken and the cold brewed tea) but others lacked seasoning and spark…and the eye-watering prices added insult to the injury. There’s a neat little bar on top though (Botak Liquor Bar in its current iteration) and it’s one of the prettiest cafes in KL.

Chocha is a new resto-cafe-bar a couple of doors down from PS 150 and Merchant’s Lane that has quickly become one of my favourite places in KL (interior-wise). Here’s why.

I’m not a huge fan of tea. I get my caffeine fix from coffee. But a good tea brew still excites me in ways coffee just can’t – teas tend to span a much more diverse (and less subtle!) range of flavours. At Chocha, they serve everything from lapsang souchong (deliciously smoky with a deep, mellow body) to dong ding jin xuan (a fresh, fruity oolong) to a cold brew version of dong ding oolong. And they’re all fantastic. The tea is reason enough to visit this beautiful eatery that sits in a restored, reclaimed former brothel. There are herbs and plants everywhere, high ceilings, bare brick walls, the whole works. It’s a gorgeous, contemplative place well matched by the equally slow pace of tea-drinking. Relative to coffee, that is.

The food itself is a bit of a toss-up at the moment. While they’re tweaking the menu and getting the kitchen in gear (for August, they’ll be closing at 6pm instead of 9pm), some of the dishes don’t quite hit the mark. Case in point, the “Chinese pesto flat noodle” below:

It sounds delicious on the menu. Housemade noodle, ulam pesto (with ulam partially picked from the garden), charred capsicum, semi-dried tomato, peanut, sesame seed. Shades of Sitka, eh?

Taste-wise though, it doesn’t quite hit the mark. It’s hard to make out the pesto at all, the capsicums are soggy and wilted instead of crisp and charred, and the peanuts and sesame seed compound a very, very dry dish. Without the tea and water at the table, it would’ve been pretty hard to get this entire plate down.

The base of the dish, the housemade noodles themselves, are good. They’re promising. And Chocha‘s kitchen clearly knows that, since they’ve spun it out into 3 of the 5 main dishes on the menu. It’s pan mee with a satisfying bite, a rough tumbled sheen to an already rough hawker food that has polished itself down through the years to the point where the typical hawker store dishes out factory-rolled noodles while the new Chocha labours away in the methods of old. But that’s part of the shtick, isn’t it? This is locavorism and Pollan homecooking and the narrative of conscious consumerism, hand-pulled and instafiltered through 20-something influencers to 20-something upper middle class Malaysians.

Side-rant aside, it’s a pity that Chocha have yet to do something more interesting with what they have. The ulam pesto tasted pretty great too…the little of it that I managed to taste at all. It’s ultimately a plate that left me wishing they spent a bit more time on fine-tuning it, especially given the price (RM20).

The aglio olio with roast duck breast fared slightly better, with a rather tasty spiced duck confit pared with garlic confit, thai basil and lemongrass. Unfortunately, the last 3 ingredients were again almost entirely missing from the taste profile. Although it did remind me to oven-roast some garlic for my pasta next time.

Oh, and the duck was alright. But do you know Ah Bong’s Italian in Singapore? Yeah, yeah, I’ll write about it next time – all you need to know for now is they serve stunning food for cheap and their duck confit is sublime.

Back to Chocha though, it’s not all doom and gloom. Their Cincalok fried chicken with summer salsa is as advertised. The salsa is alright. The house tomato chutney is incredible. And the chicken itself is even better.

Druggists Beer Bar in Singapore serves a delectable Har Cheong Gai (prawn paste chicken) to go with their top-tier beer. Chocha‘s Cincalok fried chicken comes across as Malaysia’s formidable equivalent. It’s a dish of pure, concentrated bliss. The chicken is juicy, succulent and has the subtle salty briny taste of cincalok deeply infused, the skin is satisfyingly crunchy and crispy without being overly battered, and that homemade tomato chutney brings it to another level. We can only hope that the upcoming bar dishes out some top notch craft beers to go with this beauty (though we hear it may be a wine bar).

In short, go for the fried chicken and the tea. They’re some of the best in town. And hey, maybe the rest of the dishes will get better as they tweak the recipes. We’re certainly going to keep trying until they do. Also, who’s we? I’m alone as fuck ayyy lmaooo

KL isn’t exactly the prettiest of cities nowadays. Chocha and their ilk are doing their best to slowly change that. Give them a helping hand.

Chocha Foodstore

The post Chocha @ Chinatown – Bar, food, tea, (former) brothel appeared first on Foodgazer.

We ruminate on the state of gentrification in KL while appreciating the Chinatown bar PS 150 in the middle of 2016, a good half year after our first visit. As of 22 October 2017, quite a number of things have changed: in particular, we’ve heard talk of the oftentimes brusque and arrogant service. You may want to bear that in mind while also weighing it against the fact that PS 150 still serves up some of the better cocktails in town for the price point.

Before its official launch in mid-January 2016, PS 150 was a poorly-kept secret hidden away in the same building as Merchant’s Lane. Slightly outside of Chinatown-proper (ie. the garish crossroads packed with consumeristic spoofs and once-good food), there wasn’t even a front entrance in place. Thirsty patrons entered through a door in the back alley. Reservations were made through a mobile phone.

Six months on (give or take), PS150 has quite firmly established itself as one of the leading purveyors of cocktails in Malaysia. To understand why, let’s go for a brief detour:

Malaysia has no real cultural cachet of its own. Or more precisely, the urban middle class of KL has none. We largely trail in the slipstream of other soft powers and bounce from trend to trend as they expand, pivot or burn out. As a consequence, KL is currently in the midst of a curious wave of faux-speakeasies and earnest “conscious” consumerism. Aesthetics must now be backed by narratives – but more on this later. While I stop short of completely condemning the hypocrisy, as Zizek does, it’s interesting to note how pervasive this mindset is amongst the privileged.

Back to alcohol though, the crux of the current zeitgeist is the blurry line between experimentation and tradition. While some opt for a specific camp, it’s become increasingly common to find new bars comfortable with operating in both zones. So where does that leave PS 150?

First of all, it’s gorgeous. It’s part of a refurbished former-brothel, there are now three visually distinct areas to the bar, and everything looks both vintage-nostalgic and authentic. The chairs are heavy, substantial, luxuriously comfortable. The walls are exposed brick. The new entrance mimics a toy shop display and leads into a quiet alley of seats. The lighting, and lack thereof, speak of a Chinatown somehow more authentic than the ugly, real, 2016 Chinatown just outside. Everything is a haze of desaturated beauty. When I’m there, I’m typically the ugliest thing in the bar.

The drinks themselves are delectable for the most part, with a standout or two amongst the rotating menus. The Nikka from the Barrel shines without help but of course that’s a given. It’s one of the fruitiest whiskies out there, with a smoky vanilla-toffee aftertaste and a smooth top note. It’s good, but how can you judge a bar by it? The proof is not in the raw, unadorned high-proof spirits, but in the cocktails – more specifically, in the finesse of execution, in the way the disparate elements complement and contrast, in the flourish of the preparation (remember, the narrative of the experience is as important as the product), and in the layers of flavours that hit the palate and build in the mind.

By most subjective measures, it’s hard to say that PS 150 is anything but a success. The profiles are nuanced, the drinks are interesting without being overtly experimental (like, say, Bitters and Love from Singapore), and perhaps most importantly, they lack the distinct cloying sweetness that plagues most of KL’s old bar scene. In this instance, it’s handy to borrow terminology from the coffee world: PS 150 plants itself quite firmly in the new second wave renaissance of bars.

Most of the concoctions hover around the RM 40 price point, which is pretty good value for what you get.

Note: Some of the drinks below may no longer be available, PS 150 refreshes their menu every couple of months.

The lychee no. 3 is as tasty as it looks. It’s a great pick for those who prefer their drinks to be slightly sweet, and just a generally good pick for anyone looking for an interesting drink.

The Dragon Eye Fist is good. The Assamboi Margarita is even better. The Pandan Flip features pandan-spiced rum, the Southside in the East relies instead on the pairing of lemongrass and lime.

Now for the interesting part. Let’s place PS150 in its larger context. What does the proliferation of replica-speakeasies say about KL? And before you whip out gentrification, no. That’s not the answer. Never mind the obese body of research proving its effect has been grossly overstated, gentrification is a hilariously overblown bogeyman when slapped into the Malaysian landscape. This is Kuala Lumpur. There isn’t a mass of affluent Gen-whatever-we’re-called swarming over Melbourne-makeover neighbourhoods and snapping up property. We don’t have thousands of startup millionaires and billionaires descending into, and colonizing, Petaling Street. The majority of the upper-middle class come from families that were already in the same economic band.

I think it’s more valid to posit that the explosion of the 2nd wave is instead intricately tied to the cultural values of our time. Which, thanks to the good ol Interwebs, happens to be values that are largely shared across the middle class all over the world, values that look suspiciously like conscious consumerism. It’s not hard to see the innate appeal of the speakeasy. The bartender is an artisan dedicated to the intertwining of life and craft. The bar is their canvas and exhibition space alike, the physical location is masked from the commonfolk, the drinks are cheeky nods to childhood and tradition. The speakeasy comes from a time long past – a time that most of the current consumers have only experienced through arthouse movies, articles and the odd listicle or two. At the end of the day, what defines our modern generation more than our rabid hunger to romanticize nostalgia, even if it’s for a past we’ve never actually experienced? There are a whole lot of people born in the 90s who are going crazy over Stranger Things (myself included), a show that’s very deeply rooted in the 80s. 

Anyway, PS 150 dishes out some good (and some great) drinks in one of the prettiest bars in KL. You should try it. Most people already have.

Facebook page: PS 150

New fancy website: PS 150

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