Selemat Datang to the Jungle

Everybody has a different definition of what a feast should be. For some it's the joy of a greasy burger and a bucket of chips. For others, it's that snobby buzz they get from a 60 quid steak the size of an acorn.

Fuck that.

For me a feast is always going to be a spicy Asian cuisine onslaught that leaves your tongue on fire and your stomach wondering what the hell just hit it. You can stick your french fries and your Cordon Bleu in your pee hole, I'll take a ten course curry and rice blowout any day of the week. And what better place to dine on Asian cusine than in Asia itself. My location? Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

To get home to Adelaide from London I had to fly over South East Asia, and thought it a good idea to drop into KL to see my infamous coleague Ozi. I'd already been to Malaysia eight years earlier, and had done my lion's share of sight seeing then. So this six day trip we gave the statues and museums a miss and concentrated on something far more important, the restaurants.

For the following six days we engorged ourselves like a couple of mosquitos on a week old tampon. I pounded so much food into my guts, that I needed a mid wife present everytime I took a crap. But before my similes and methaphors get even more graphic, let's check out some of the high-lights:

Kahvitha's Curry House

What better way to wash the taste of two years of fish and chips from my mouth then to blast it with some local KL fodder. My first meal in KL was at a back street diner named Kahvitha's, an advocator of what Ozi has christened "Elbows In" dining. Plates are for pussies, and knives and forks will only slow you down. This is a shit load of curries, pastes and fried sea foods and meats dumped on a banana leaf. No utensils are necessary, as you dig your whole fists into the array of meats, veges, spices and sauces. I hadn't eaten this way for eight years, it was Fantastic.

East Malaysian Lady Boy Dining

On my second day Ozi and I ventured into the heart of the city to find a specific Thai Restaurant. As the Thai place had closed down, we instead went into a place next door specialing in Eastern Malaysian Village Cuisine. We ordered the spiciest Tom Yam soup the chef could muster, and asked for a few of the local dishes aswell. Our waitress recommended a Village favourite, a kind of Vietnamese Roll but with a lot more spice. It was at this moment Ozi realised that our waitress was in fact a Lady Boy (layman's terms: Tranny). I was hynotised by her apples adam bobbing up and down, as she told us that the portions had to be eaten in one go.

We did as she/he asked and downed the roll in one hit. I'm quite a fan of spicy food, and have built up a reasonable tolerance over the years. I was quite happy with the rolls, noting that there was a mild burning sensation in my mouth that was getting stronger. I was then blasted with a spice explosion like a cricket bat to an old woman's face. The chili fried so deeply into my body, that I swear my kids will be born as burn victims. 2 cans of coke and a bowl of rice couldn't stop the sweating and tears, but another waitress came to the rescue with a special bowl of seeds that would dull the chili flavour. Through my watering ocular sockets I realised this waitress was a Lady Boy too. This place was the Crying Game, for more reasons than one.

The fire in my belly dulled down to a slight burn. Rest assured, my stomach and I were no longer on speaking terms for the rest of that day.
(Side Note: That is just a figure of speech. If at any point you find yourself conversating with your own digestive system, please see a Doctor. As you are probably insane.)

Fatty Crab

A simple bare bones diner with an even simpler message "Get in here you bastards and feed your fat fucking faces".



Fatty Crab is a Malaysian Classic. So popular that we actually had to line up to get in, an act usually unheard of when dining in Asia. This isn't a case of sitting at your window seat, sipping your chardonnay and discussing how 'clever' the latest epsiode of Desperate Housewives was with your date as you wait 90 minutes for your entrees to come out. This is pure feeding, the food hits the table as soon as you order it. A foot high plate of crabs cooked in special curry sauce lands on the table seconds after we requested it. A mallet and a metal nut-cracker are provided so that you can pound those bastard crabs til every last fibre of their meaty bodies goes prisoner to your gaping mouths.

Yes kids, this is serious fucking dining. I saw these two bastards at a table, and boy did they look like they meant business:


Throughout the restaurant all that could be heard was the cracks and crunches of tool on shell, as every patron guzzled out every last molecule of crab meat that they could. It was a midnight feast of kings. Throw in a icy cold longneck of Tiger beer, and I was in Hog Heaven.

And here's the hand job at the end of the culinary massage that is Kuala Lumpur: it's damn cheap too. I could get a three course meal for the price of a cheeseburger in London. The British Pound goes miles in Southern Asia.

I recommend a visit.