Farewell to Southeast Asia
January 27, 2010 | Location: Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand | 8 Comments
One hundred and forty-five days ago, Helene and I began our adventure around the world.
After a short layover in Japan, we headed down to Indonesia, to Denpasar and Ubud on the island of Bali. Relaxed but increasingly annoyed by the overgrown tourist industry of Ubud, we took the slow train across the island of Java, in the most exciting two weeks of our trip to date. We stopped in the towns and cities of Banyuwangyi, Probolinggo, Surabaya, Yogyakarta, all the way to Jakarta. From Jakarta, we flew to Singapore, where we spent an awesome two weeks with our friends Audran and Joëlle, discovering soup tulang, durian and amazing Indian food.
From Singapore, we rode the bus across Malaysia to Melaka, then to Kuala Lumpur, and from there flew to Bangkok, where we happily renewed with the city’s superb street food. We discovered our happy place in a small ocean bay to the south, then ventured forth to Vientiane, Laos, where we lost ourselves in the awesome French food. On the way back, we rediscovered the joy of traveling off the beaten path by exploring the cities of Isaan; specifically, Udon Thani and Nakhon Ratchasima made a strong impression.
After all this time, South-East Asia feels like home. In farewell to the region, here’s our very personal roundup of the high and low points of our adventures so far.
Best Street Meal: Nasi Goreng, Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia
We found this street stall not too far from the backpacker area by following our noses – no joke! The owner was so friendly and charming, I took to calling her my Indonesian auntie. The next evening, her granddaughter cooked our nasi goreng (fried rice) and soto ayam (chicken soup) in a wok over charcoal. The food was so amazing, it beat any fried rice I’ve had before – and I’ve lived three years in China.
Runner-up: The famous and fabulous noodle soup in Bangkok, Thailand
Best Upscale Meal: Yantra Restaurant, Singapore
When my friend Audran said he’d treat us to a fantastic Indian meal, he wasn’t kidding – Yantra’s menu was so exquisite, it makes my mouth water just thinking about it again! Yantra marked one of the first moments in our trip where we just knew we had to go to India next. Thanks again, Audran!
Runner-up: Le Vendôme’s superb French comfort food, in Vientiane, Laos
Best Drink: Java Joss, Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia
What happens when you take a boiling glass of sweet Javanese coffee, then dunk in a piece of glowing coal? Coffee heaven! We had to look hard to find this one, as it’s only available north of the train station after 6 PM, from a line of street stalls along the sidewalk. The caffeine kept me up all night – it was totally worth it.
Runner-up: The incredible avocado shake with chocolate syrup and condensed milk, in a flowery alley of Surabaya, Java, Indonesia
Worst Meal & Drink: Breakfast in Banyuwangyi, Java, Indonesia
After a string of amazing food in Denpasar, Bali, it came as quite a shock when we went out for the free breakfast of our local hotel in Banyuwangyi, on the Javanese side. The soto ayam (chicken soup) was barely recognizable, and filled us with sadness. Worst yet was the coffee – in an island known for its coffee beans, it’s shocking to find a cup of java that tastes like the inside of an intestine – no, really, it did.
Runner-up: Pad thai on the street in the Khaosan Road area of Bangkok, Thailand. I’ve had a better pad thai in a mall in Canada, and that says a lot.
Best Beer: Beerlao, Laos
More than just a beer, Laos’ Beerlao is a matter of national pride. You see its charmingly antiquated logo everywhere in Vientiane, making the beer near-ubiquitous in the Lao capital. It’s best enjoyed with ice, Lao-style, cooling down on a terrace.
Runner-up: Indonesia’s awesome Bintang beer
Best Accommodation: Bladok Losmen, Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia
An amazing city, super friendly and helpful staff, a pool(!!), a balcony… We could have moved into that room on the third floor of Bladok Losmen. We spent all our evenings sitting on the balcony gazing at the city and listening to the evening call to prayer (and then downing a Bintang or two), and even indulged in the fancy but entirely satisfying restaurant downstairs. At $15 USD a night, this was the absolute best value we found.
Runner-up: Souphaphone’s gorgeous rooms ($25 USD) and friendly staff, Vientiane, Laos
Worst Accommodation: Sama Sama Guesthouse, Melaka, Malaysia
I’ve never run away from a guesthouse after dark – until that night when one of us stepped on a fat cockroach in the dark of our room. Coupled with the crappy shared toilets and the flimsy bed that complained all night at my weight, we just couldn’t face another night there. In Sama Sama’s defense, though, the guy working there was an absolute gentleman about the entire thing.
Runner-up: Orchid Guesthouse and its lethargic staff, located down a burning garbage-ridden road in Surabaya, Java, Indonesia
Most Beautiful Place: Happy Place, Thailand
The sound of the ocean usually woke me up in the morning, and we spent our days strolling along the ocean front. We loved the place so much, as a matter of fact, that when I blogged about it, I didn’t dare reveal the name lest some Lonely Planet writer stumbled upon it and ‘discovered’ it. I’m still gonna keep it to myself, but feel free to ask me by email!
Runner-up: Ubud, Bali, Indonesia – touristy but genuinely gorgeous for its numerous temples, flower offerings and startling rice fields
Scariest Moment: Hit and Run in Bangkok
You get used to the way Bangkok taxi drivers hustle in traffic. Then one day you climb aboard a cab with a driver who appears to be high-strung on amphetamines – allegedly, a common problem with taxis in Bangkok given how many hours they have to work in a day to make ends meet. Our driver proceeded to drive like a madman, and when he bumped a couple riding a motorcycle to the ground, he just sped away as Helene and I yelled our heads off at him. We opened the car doors to threaten damage to his cab if he didn’t stop, but that didn’t seem to scare him as much as the prospect of facing the cops. When the traffic in a side-alley forced him to stop, we took the cue – and jumped out of the cab.
Runner-up: Driving at high speed the curvy, narrow roads of Mount Bromo, Java, Indonesia; good thing we didn’t miss a curve – and plunge to a fiery death hundreds of meters below
Friendliest Place: Probolinggo, Java, Indonesia
“Welcome to Probolinggo!” grinned a young man, shaking my hand. This type of exhuberant display of friendliness was our first real contact with Java – and we fell in love with it. People asked us to pose for pictures with them, and a group of kids yelled at us enthusiastically from the other side of the busy boulevard. Helene ended up spending a long, merry hour talking to the girls, who gave her a rock star ovation when they saw her walk by the next day. We love Probolinggo!
Runner-up: The friendly and upbeat people of Nakhon Ratchasima, Isaan region, Thailand
Coolest Fellow Travelers: Kara and Damien
Kara and Damien, two Americans on a year trip, wrote me one day to discover the secret of our Happy Place. They asked nicely, so I relented. We hooked up for a street-side meal and a few drinks, and became fast friends. We gave them our Rough Guide to Thailand, and we inherited a cozy wool sweater given to them by friends in Jordan, an Indian SIM card, and plenty of advice on India and the Middle-East. Here’s to our next encounter on the road!
Runner-up: Beatrice, a cool German woman traveling independently at 62 for the first time in her life
Worst Fellow Traveler: Papa Bill
We call him “Papa Bill”. He latched unto us in Probolinggo, and just wouldn’t let go. Loud, disrespectful, narcissic and scatterbrained, he walked around with his younger Thai wife in tow, and through sheer inspired negligence ran into trouble faster than I could blink. When we boarded the train in Probolinggo, his presence and his numerous insults to the Indonesian people – spoken at loudspeaker volume – chilled the previously friendly atmosphere in seconds. He then proceeded to take pictures of workers outside the train, yelling “Yes! Yes! Yes!” to quell their protests. When the train came into the station in Surabaya, we didn’t think twice – we ran.
Runner-up: Any of the dozens of inconsiderate and condescending tourists that give us a bad name with the locals, especially around Khaosan Road
What Now?
It’s been in the cards a long time – we’re headed to India! Whether it was the vibrant lights of Deepavali in Singapore, or the street-side delights of a South Indian restaurant in Melaka, we’ve been craving a visit to the Indian subcontinent since the very first days of our trip.
On January 29 2010, we’re boarding a flight to Kolkata, in West Bengal. A new chapter begins for the Backpack Foodie!
Southeast Asia in Blog Posts
Indonesia
Singapore
Malaysia
Thailand – Bangkok and the South
Laos – Vientiane
Thailand – Isaan Region
India Calling
November 6, 2009 | Location: Malaysia, Singapore | 4 Comments
Helene sets down her sweet and looks at me with purpose. “We’re going to India,” she declares.
I take another sip of my tea masala. The writing’s on the wall since three weeks ago, when we arrived in Singapore. Melaka is a strange place to fall in love with India, but here it is.
We’re going to India.
Little Indias
A city like Singapore might sound at odds with India’s vibrant, exhilarating chaos, but it’s actually part of its multicolored fabric. Tamil Indians form the backbone of Singapore’s manual workforce, and their language constitutes one of the city-state’s four official languages (alongside English, Mandarin and Bahasa Malaysian). Singapore’s Little India is a vibrant, chaotic district filled with restaurants and bargain malls, where incense and flowers blend smells with sweat and curry.
The scenario holds truth north of the Johor-Singapore Causeway, where Tamil immigrants have added their spices and ingenuity to Malaysia’s blend of cuisines. The Tamil’s Muslim minority, known as Mamaks, are credited with many dishes that are close to the hearts of Singaporeans and Malaysians alike. As a matter of fact, the sup tulang, about which I previously blogged, was invented in Singapore by Mamaks.
Yantra: Indian Refinement
Audran, artist extraordinaire and fellow epicurean, was my food guide in Singapore. Audran and I share an unbridled passion for food and distant lands. The Indian cuisine in Singapore has accomplished the impossible: convince my friend that there is a better cuisine than Japanese.
“Japanese cuisine is all about the impossible perfection of a single ingredient,” explained Audran when he saw my jaw drop at his revelation. “Indian cuisine is almost the opposite: it’s a near-infinite blend of spices and tastes, expertly blended together.” To prove his point, Audran took us to the cool confines of an Indian restaurant called Yantra.
To call Yantra’s service excellent is an understatement: I’m convinced their waiters are psychic. Our own waiter responded near-instantaneously to our desires, sometimes before we voiced them. “Do you speak French, by any chance?” asked Audran, puzzled at how the waiter kept responding to the comments we had spoken only in Quebecois.
The food itself was spectacular. I’ve had good Indian in Canada, the UK and China, but Yantra’s unique blend of spices and tastes was a new level of taste for me. The dishes I recognized where transcended by Yantra’s cuisine; the new ones were exquisite discoveries.
I commented that if this was the Indian food available in Singapore, I dreaded discovering how good the food could be in India.
Audran grinned. “I really hope India beats this,” he said. “If so, I’m jumping on a plane to check it out for myself.”
Simpler Treats in Melaka
A few days later in Melaka, on the west coast of Peninsular Malaysia, the Little India we encounter is no less vibrant and seductive.
This time, we sit in a small, popular restaurant called Saravanna. Helene and I had spotted the place the day before, and having already eaten at the time, we vowed to come back. We were drawn to the sweets in the window, and had noticed the working class simplicity of the patrons. We came back with appetites intact.
As we considered the menu, I studied the men eating their meal, using the index, middle finger and thumb of their right hand. In India, only the right hand is used to eat, as the left is considered unclean. (You use it to wipe your rear, remove your shoes and – if I’m to judge by the man sitting across from me – talk on your cellphone while you eat.) This might not sound like much of a problem, until you tear a roti one-handed: this is definitely harder than it looks.
Helene and I ordered a thali, a mixed dish including a large roti, into which are folded various ingredients, and a variety of delicious dipping sauces. After a bite, we knew we had stumbled upon something special. We ordered masala tea, and sweets made from coconut and condensed milk. Over dessert, we vowed to go to India next.
The Road to India
Yantra’s elegance and Saravanna’s rough charm are but two of the culinary experiences we’ve had with Indian food during our stay in Singapore and Malaysia. I have fond memories of the spectacular fish head curry we had at Banana Leaf Apolo, or the Pakistani beef stew at Usman, an open-air Pakistani restaurant in Singapore’s Little India. We spent many days walking down that area, hunting down sweets and enjoying the crowds and lights of Deepavali.
In Melaka, we spent a long evening trapped in an open-air restaurant called Restoran Madinah, where we took refuge from the storm, and indulged in mutton curry and vegetable soup. Madinah was our breakfast joint of choice whenever we craved roti canai – a near-daily occurence.
As I write these lines, Helene and I are relaxing in Bangkok, planning to spend the remainder of the month exploring Thailand, before we make the jump to India’s southern provinces. We’ve dreamed of India long enough.
India’s calling, and it’s time we pick up.
Where to Go: Singapore
Yantra Restaurant is located at 163 Tanglin Road, in Tanglin Mall, not far from Orchard Road. It’s a fairly pricey outing (and one which I was honored to be treated to by our amazing hosts, Audran and Joëlle) but in my opinion, it is worth it at any price.
Banana Leaf Apolo is reknown for its fish head curry and generous portions served on a banana leaf. Their main branch is at 54 Race Course Road, within walking distance of the Little India MRT Station. Other branches can be found around the city.
Usman Restaurant is also found in Little India, at 238 Serangoon Road. They serve hearty Pakistani meals, including a fantastic beef stew.
Where to Go: Melaka
Restoran Saravanna has a few branches around Melaka, in and around Little India. The main branch can be found at No. 18, Jalan Bendahara.
Restoran Medinah is found on Jalan Melaka Raya 3, around the hostel district. You’ll find it on a street corner, packed with locals, whether Chinese, Malay or Indian.
Hail to the King of Fruits
October 28, 2009 | Location: Singapore | 4 Comments
It’s been compared to rotting flesh, bad cheese and skunk urine. It’s often banned in hotels and public transport throughout Southeast Asia. Its flesh is fragrant enough to attract monkeys a mile away.
Yet after a few evenings spent with my friend Audran, getting to know the much-vilified fruit better, durian is fast becoming my favorite fruit.
Hail to the king!
An Ill-Deserved Reputation
There’s no denying durian has a strong smell. As soon as its shell cracks and it starts to ripen, the stench will fill the air faster than a fart. In a crowded elevator, things get downright hostile. The stink some North Americans associate with Chinatown is often due to the pungent fruit alone: you’d be hard-pressed to distinguish durian and rotten meat in a blind smell test.
But don’t let the olfactory assault detract you: some of the best things in life can give off quite a stench. There’s nothing quite like the dirty socks smell of an old, runny Camembert, yet the French express only love for their cheese. Likewise, we generally do not turn up our nose on a fine Sauerkraut, or the mature bitterness of a stout beer.
But introduce an unfamiliar food that stinks, and suddenly you hear “garbage”, “rotting meat” or “gym sock”; we reserve words such as “complex”, “pungent” and “commanding” only for the stinks we have grown with.
Leave your inhibitions behind! Embrace the stink!
The Art of Eating Durian
Native to Indonesia and Malaysia, “durian” is the name of the fruit of various tree species belonging to the genus durio. Of thirty durio tree species, six are known to produce edible durian. To further complicate matters, a great number of cultivars exist: cultivated varieties of durian, prized for certain variations in taste, smell, size or texture.
The durian fruit is a huge, oblong mass, covered in spikes hard enough to draw blood. A durio tree can grow as high as fifty meters; I feel for the guy who gets pummeled by a durian on its way down. The thing must hit like a morning star thrown from the back of a bus.
Most of the durian fruit is discarded; people eat the yellow stuff surrounding the seeds, accessed by splitting the husk with a large knife. Depending on the variety of durian, this yellow center can be fibrous or creamy. The Malays and Singaporeans prefer a rich, creamy, custard-like center; in some instances, the creamiest centers have had a chance to ripen enough that they hold a small amount of alcohol.
The Mountain Cat King
Over the course of two weeks, Audran and I had a chance to sample three cultivars of durian; from these, we glimpsed the immense variety of tastes on offer at the court of the king of fruits.
The durian in fashion right now in Singapore is the Cat Mountain King, or 猫山王 (Mao Shan Wang). Whereas a simple durian might set you back $1 USD, the best Mao Shan Wang can set you back $30 USD for two kilograms – weighed with the husk. We also tasted a variety called Tai Shang Wang (太上王), which we found creamier and sweeter, with a nice, bitter aftertaste.
When compared with a lesser cultivar such as D24, the Mao Shan Wang and the Tai Shang Wang deserve their higher price tags. There is not an ounce of fibrous fruit to be found here: everything is ripe, rich yellow, and the kind of creamy that avocados only dream of.
The taste, similarly, is incredibly complex: sweet, with a pleasantly bitter aftertaste and notes of almond and pineapple, and a thick, rich, creamy taste.
After eating durian, you realize how each fruit taste is a single, vibrant note. To eat a durian is to taste an orchestral movement.
Durian Dreams
After the few evenings I spent sharing durian with Helene and our friends Audran, Joëlle, Ben and Nadia, I no longer understand the vilification of durian in the West. When I now smell a durian on a bus or in a store, I long to taste the creaminess of the king of fruits.
If you’re in a country where durian is readily available, I strongly recommend you give it a try. Set aside your preconceptions, and approach durian as you would any refined, complex and mature food or drink.
Chances are, you too will look at strawberries and mangoes as mere subjects in the court of the Thorny One.
Where to Go
Durian is found in many places in Singapore, notably in Geylang, where street stalls line the curb for entire blocks, as well as around Little India. They are best enjoyed in season, between May and September.
You will find durian in a number of other countries around Southeast Asia; the best ones are said to come from Malaysian Borneo and Indonesia. China is the greatest importer of durian, followed by Singapore and Taiwan. The Thai grow a great number of durian cultivars, and Brunei, the Philippines and Indonesia each have their own varieties as well.
In most countries, eating durian is a simple matter of selecting your fruit from a street stall, and asking the seller to split it open for you. You can scoop out the flesh with your fingers. Most importantly, enjoy, and don’t drop any on the sofa!
Drinking the Bones: Singapore’s Soup Tulang
October 23, 2009 | Location: Singapore | 7 Comments
“Let’s take a dive in the deep end of the pool.” That’s what I told my friend Audran when he asked me how we should start my culinary exploration of Singapore.
Boy, did he ever take me to my word.
That night, our friends Audran and Joëlle, Canadian expats living in Singapore, take us to the Golden Mile Food Center, a legendary hawker center in Singapore’s Arab Quarter.
We find a Tamil Indian man wearing a kufi cap, stirring a cauldron filled with a blood-thick gravy, from which broken mutton bones poke out.
It’s time for soup tulang.
Tidy City, Messy Dish
Conceptually, soup tulang is an antidote to the clichés heard about Singapore. For such a tidy city, the dish, purportedly invented right here in the Arab Quarter, is spectacularly messy.
Let me stress that: don’t go to a soup tulang meal wearing white. Not unless you want to emulate the ending of Stephen King’s Carrie.
The bones we see protruding from the cook’s pot are mutton femurs, roughly broken off near the end. The tomato and chili gravy gives the dish the air of a gruesome Halloween display.
That soup tulang rose to become one of the city-state’s most revered dishes is a testament to Singapore’s cultural diversity. It was invented here, in the Arab Quarter, by Muslim Tamil Indians, also known as Mamaks. The Tamils are the third most numerous ethnic groups in Singapore, after Chinese and Malays.
We ask the hawker for soup tulang. He brings us a large dish covered in blood-red sauce and mutton bones, along with a plate of bread, and a plastic glove each.
Are You Gonna Suck That?
The plastic glove is recommended, although you should be warned that the thick red of the sauce will seep through the cheap plastic.
You eat soup tulang by picking up a femur, and chewing off the meat. The mutton, cooked at length in the broth, is tender and filled with subtle flavors; but the best pieces require persistence and a good set of teeth.
Next, you drink the marrow, which is the entire point of the meal. Some prefer to dunk them like shooters and suck the marrow out, but an easier way consists of sticking the straw in, and drinking it up, like a madman’s slurpee.
Lastly, you take a piece of bread, and soak in the thick, flavorful sauce.
If you’re wearing white, this is typically when you start to wonder how much the dry cleaner will cost you in the morning.
Savoring the Marrow of Life
Later, we emerge from the hawker center, slightly dazed. We might not have eaten the fanciest dish in Singapore’s repertoire, but we have tasted one of its most spectacular.
Underneath the modern metropolis’ glimmering surface, lies a city obsessed by its multicultural food, and willing to dirty its hands for a good meal. Singapore, I know, will be a good place for an adventurous foodie. As long as I stay in the deep end of the pool.
Where to Go
Singapore food lovers agree: the best place for soup tulang in Singapore is in the basement of the Golden Mile Food Center, at 505 Beach Road. The restaurant selling it is called Haji Kadir – M. Baharudeen. Just look for the large, blood-red cauldron with bones sticking out.
That stall has received numerous awards, and was featured, among others, on Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations.
