If I read a blog post that begins, 'Recently I was invited to...' I tend to groan inwardly. 'Comped' meals might be common and at least the poster is being candid about it, but the suspicion remains that this may slant the review just a mite. More to the point- and I suppose only the writer is in a position to answer this- but is the restaurant somewhere you would normally eat?
If not, why bother? If you wouldn't usually spend your cash there, why visit just because it's free?
Why should a reader shell out (after your high-likelihood-of-positive review) for something you wouldn't pay for? As a result, it's not something I often do. Each to their own and all that. It's just not my cup of whatnot.
Anyway.
So, I wouldn't normally do this kind of thing, but...
A chance to have your dinner cooked by 2010 Masterchef Champion Dhruv Baker is not to be sneezed at. (Why one would deliberately emit a vigorous sternutation in the direction of good food is a matter too deep for me, I fear). Organised by Matrade, Malaysia's national trade promotion agency, this was intended as a showcase to raise the profile of Malaysian food and encourage people to try making it at home.
That would be tempting enough. Host it at Café Malaysia, somewhere I've loved since my first forkful, and it was a count-the-hours scenario.
This was very much a communal meal, with dishes loaded for sharing (handy tip: sit next to a vegetarian. You end up with even more of the good stuff...). Three starters, thee mains. They came thick and fast: first up was a crisp salad of raw beansprouts, sliced chillies and peppers with a liberal scattering of toasted coconut. All in all, a light notice of intention for jaded tastebuds. Within moments the distinctive green palm leaf dishes brought Inchi Kabin- piles of boneless fried chicken just demanding to have formalities abandoned and fingers ready to pick and pull and tear. Fragrant with star anise and dressed with sweet chilli, these could be described as moreish.
As in, strap me on a nosebag and leave me be. Be prepared to lose at least several digits if you encroach. That kind of moreish.
This was easily the best fried chicken since I raved about the Korean Bao Bar at KERB this summer, which does make you wonder what arcane arts they have with coating and deep-frying poultry in that area. Certainly, the quarter of a million or so South Koreans who holiday in Malaysia each year must account for some hefty damage to local chicken stocks.
Skewers of marinated squid, tender as you'd want, were fresh from the grill and served with a classic satay of subtle warmth. The skewers mount up quickly, which is the problem with this kind of thing. The evidence is hard to dispose of...
On to the larger dishes. By this point I had demolished every scrap of chicken within remotely-polite reach, and was worrying I'd gone too early and too hard. A juvenile schoolboy error, I'm sure you'd agree. Thankfully, Dhruv (first name terms, you see...) explained he had omitted the typical noodles to leave us with a light and silky coconut soup with a gentle but insistent heat, with chunks of chicken, prawns and a tofu puff. I'm not a huge tofu fan (tofuist? tofarian?) due to infrequent contact, so would probably not have missed it had it not been there. Prawns will always be close to this chap's heart. Not to the extent that they'd show up on a chest X-ray, but you get the picture.
A beef rendang arrived: a huge portion, especially for one (remember what I said about sitting next to a vegetarian..?) usually served quite dry, this was saucier than the Agent Provacateur catalogue smeared with béarnaise. The chunks of beef , coaxed to the point of tender surrender, were served with a luscious gravy bolstered by smaller pieces of beef which had fallen apart in the sauce. The result was an intensely meaty triumph of slow-cooking, heady with lemongrass, cloves and star anise. By now I was struggling but resolved manfully to persevere. The key is to go easy on the rice. It'd be infra dig at these things to ask for a takeaway container. I suppose...
A vegtable murtabak, a flatbread folded into triangles and spread with a spiced paste (aubergine, I think?) was a new one on me. Apparently, its name derives from the Arabic mutabbaq (or sometimes mutabbag), meaning 'folded', so feel free to disregard the initial description as a tedious irrelevance.
Served piping hot, these meant the end was in sight and only desserts remained. I have little in the way of a sweet tooth (honourable exception: cheesecake and dark chocolate) and capacity had been reached.
Buah Melaka were balls of a vivid green, a dense confection of rice flour flecked with coconut and with a melted palm sugar centre. Deeply, insistently glutinous, these were less sweet than I had expected- honestly, the description was enough to make your teeth ache.
A pair of delicate banana fritters in a light batter (Pisang Goreng) and a sweet sauce of condensed milk later, and against the odds I had made it through the menu after my vigorous overindulgence in Malaysian fried chicken. Je ne regrette rien.
Throughout, Dhruv Baker was an eloquent presence, equally at home explaining the dishes, his love for this cuisine, his admiration for Cafe Malaysia itself or his own new restaurant (The Jolly Gardeners, in Wandsworth). Coupled with the slightly surreal experience of Thomasina Miers choosing our dishes at Wahaca on Wednesday evening, this was a Masterchef one-two and a thumping success. An exciting night- unique, I dare say- then, so an opportunity impossible to resist. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who left feeling inspired to cook more Malaysian food at home, even if not to the standard expected by Gregg Wallace...
http://www.dhruvbaker.com/
http://www.cafemalaysia.co.uk/
http://www.malaysiakitchen.co.uk/
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