“Now, we gotta make sure we eat at a mamak stall or maybe a…er, a pasar malam while we’re hear,” I said, flipping through my Malay dictionary guide book and trying hard to sound like I knew what i was talking about. Tanya just rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever,” because she knew it best to have at a new country’s (at least new for us) cuisine and see what, if anything, we could bring back to our restaurant in Niagara Falls, New York. We decided to hang out in Jalan Alor, which many at Kuala Lumpur Malaysia hotels will describe as a must stop on any culinary exploration. I was thumbing through the dog eared section of the language guide when we arrived at the once red light district of Kuala Lumpur, a place that won’t have air conditioning while we popped off the mono rail and check out the crazy quilt of restaurant and food stalls (mamak) that overwhelm the senses. One place in particular caught our attention, a clean and tidy Chinese stall, really, and the fellow standing back was putting on quite a show with a fiery wok, that seemed to burst into flames as he ladled some into it, filling a to go container with a flourish. I told Tanya we had to try this place and headed over. We waited in a small line and stood transfixed by the cook’s deft handling of the wok, of the ladle, the quick, precise movements with a big cleaver he used as a paring knife at one point, a big chopper the next. I guess I felt jealous, my work station at our restaurant is in back, out of sight, and Tanya works the front of the house. I’ve always wanted and open kitchen, and thought again of ways to knock out the wall separating the front from the back. By then in my revery I had completely forgotten what to say in Malay and Tanya, to her great happiness, ordered for us.
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