Anyway, coincidentally, after visiting Baba Low, the very next day, there was a review here in the Star, of the neighbouring Thai place, along that very row. I vaguely recall reading about it in someone's food blog, and have been meaning to sample the place. I made plans to bring young FOTY 07 and wife there for lunch, when all of a sudden, I get an sms from another friend reminding me of an appointment I made last week. I guess in situations like that, it is only polite to honor the earlier appointment, so I did. And I knew that the first question was gonna be, when they picked me up, "Where are we eating?". Usually, when it comes to Bangsar, I'll ho and hum and launch into the usual "what do YOU feel like eating" routine. So I was pleased as punch to for once, have a firm answer. (although it felt a bit like adultery, dumping the former couple to lunch with this other couple, at the very same place we were supposed to have gone).
The staff were all very helpful and friendly, in recommending what to eat. With the hainanese blood running through my veins, I gravitate to chicken rice the way women gravitate to diamonds. Nothing like succulent yellow pak cham kai to arouse me.
And I am startled to see my pic looks rather similar to the one taken by the Star photographer, which clearly goes to show a lack of imagination. The serendipitious accidents in the Baba Low post that made Hairy comment it looked artistic, were sadly absent in these series. No stray lime pips or spat out watermelon seeds.
Mrs Tan Sri had the curry chicken rice, which she said was too salty. However, I like the yau fan. Tasty without being overly the top oily. The accompanying soup is also nice, but I wish it was hotter.
Mr Tan Sri had a bowl of Tom Yam noodles. Does anyone remember that lame joke that went,
"oh, did you hear that Tom Jones went to Thailand and became a buddhist, and even changed his name"....
"Oh really, to what"
This was followed by a whole slew of name jokes, such as what do you call the most powerful Singh? Barry Manilow, coz He writes the songs that make the whole world singh...
and Who is the Singh who can't sing? Ans: DJ Dave.
There was also the one about Anita Sarawak suing her mother, Siput Sarawak, coz she was gonna change her name to Siput Babi.
We were all so simple minded then....the things that made us laugh...
Well, yeah, moving on. Without even remembering what was in the Star Review, we ordered the fish cakes. Interesting, it had bits of long bean in it. Tasty, but the fish texture wasn't bouncy enough, I felt.
Kerabu paku, always a favourite of mine. I guess pucku pakus appeal to the primal man within. There is something gloriously rewarding about eating something that is perceived to grow in the wild, harvested by exotic indigenious tribes, as they use their sumpitans (blow pipes) to kill the marauding hordes of wild boar. In all probability, pucuk paku in grown in the owner's balcony or something.
The dish was nice. The white sauce is actually coconut milk. The condiments sprinkled above lend some flavour to an otherwise bland salad. Which frankly, I don't mind. I love the raw, almost slimy taste that the wild fern emanates.
For the three of us, the bill came up to about 30 ++. Reasonable, for this part of the world. Definitely a place I'd revisit, but not before trying out the other two places along the same row that look interesting.
We adjourned to Baba Low for dessert, and had their chendol there.