Zipangu, Shangri-la Hotel, Kuala Lumpur

Posted on August 11, 2008 by Lyrical Lemongrass

1.

080808.

Beijing 2008.

We both decided to wear Chinese inspired outfits to the office.

Sadly, not everyone saw things the way we did. People wished us Gong Xi Fa Cai. Sigh. Everyone wants to be a comedian.

2.

Our workload that day had dampened our spirits. Practically everyone we knew had rushed off early to catch the opening ceremony of the Olympics, and soon, we found that we were alone and miserable in our respective offices.

“Can you tar pau some dinner back?” I called and asked him. I wasn’t in the mood to cook that night. I was tired and I was depressed knowing that I was going to miss him when he flew off to Manila the next day for a short trip. He was suddenly interrupted by a phonecall and had to hang up. I felt lonelier than ever in the quiet office, the sound of creaking furniture keeping me company as I worked furiously to complete the task at hand. A few minutes later, my phone rang, and despite its melodious ringtone, the sound was jarring in the quiet of the night. “Let’s go to Zipangu,” he said.

I could have kissed him then. But of course, making kissing sounds into the phone was something we did in our courting days 15 years ago. It can be quite unnerving for an innocent bystander to see a 30-something year old woman kissing her mobilephone (unless it’s an iPhone).

Zipangu used to be our restaurant of choice when we wanted to grab a nice meal. He used to prod me and say “Let’s go to Zipangu” when I least expected it. Memories are created from little moments, instances, snippets of conversation, thoughtful gestures, exchanged glances that only two people share even when surrounded by nameless faces, faceless names. Not flowers, chocolates or expensive gifts.

3.

Kaki furai(RM40)

“Honey, I’m home…”

Deep fried oysters bursting with flavour in a thin coat of crumbs. An apt beginning in regaining our happiness. I lost count – there were probably 6 to 8 pieces, all large enough for two bites per piece.

Teriyaki chicken in butter sauce (RM35)

Tender pieces of chicken (thigh, not breast) in a mild sauce that hinted of butter but didn’t overpower the flavour of the teriyaki chicken. A lovely combination of flavours that extended to the vegetables, all lightly grilled and enveloped in the sweet buttery aroma.

Foie gras maki (RM40)

The foie gras maki didn’t please as much, despite having such a pleasurable ingredient. It reminded me of a fat man with a tiny peni….uhm…male reproductive organ. I could barely taste any of the creamy fattiness of the foie gras.

Sashimi (RM90)

The sashimi was good. Thick slices and very fresh.

Going to Zipangu is like going home.

Total bill with 2 bowls of delicious garlic fried rice came up to RM233 (before tax), but with our Prestige Platinum card, we paid only RM134 (with tax). And unlike other high-end establishments, green tea here is complimentary.

Zipangu
Shangri-la Hotel Kuala Lumpur
11, Jalan Sultan Ismail
50250 Kuala Lumpur

Restaurant reservations: 1800 88 7881

Chiaroscuro, KL

Posted on June 7, 2008 by Lyrical Lemongrass

1.

“I am living in a landscape that marks the clock
Where heat is the brief midsummer play
Of jasmine on the slated roofs.”

It is the season of the coming and going of friends.

A brief weekend of girlish giggles over insightful, whimsical, intellectual, playful Readings at Seksan’s, where she read her poems to an attentive crowd, shortly after he read his lovestruck lovelorn writings.

“I’ve lost that endless season
Of sun and rain
Where I eked out existence like a
Lizard on a rock
Quick to run and fix my beady eye
Upon the blazing sun.

Recall, the sudden squall
The gust of wind
The towering rumble from canyons of air
Beating on my pedaling schoolgirl frame
Lonely, toiling uphill past the house
of love lost and friends betrayed.”

He brought a delicious butter cake that sang of sunshine and laughter. It was warm and rich, kissed with rosemary syrup and a hint of sea salt. We ate it after Readings, under the trees, under the setting sun.

2.

We dined at Chiaroscuro. Not to be confused with churrascaria (a brazilian steakhouse), this is an Italian tratorria which means light and dark, referring mostly to the decor, with simply done up walls in grey and tableware in white in muted lighting all around. We were served thick cut bread to dip into little bowls of sundried tomatoes in olive oil.

Greek salad (RM22)

The key to a good salad is fresh and good quality ingredients. The greek style salad with capsicum, onion, cucumber, fresh tomatoes and fennel with the most wonderful fluffy feta cheese was delicious.

Whitebait polpette with balsamic reduction (RM26), Bresaola (RM28)

The fresh whitebait polpette had the appearance of fritters rather than meatballs. The balsamic reduction with its lovely syrupy consistency elevated this dish to higher level. The thinly sliced bresaola, with its salty taste from the curing of the meat, tasted lovely with the grilled mushroom, mixed salad and smoked cheese. The dish was drizzled with lemon olive oil.

“I’ve lost the peculiar awareness burning
At the timid nape of my neck
At tender junctions of elbow and knees
The brown peel chafing away to new skin.”

Clockwise from top left: Beef carpaccio served with rocket cress salad, shaved parmesan & truffle oil dressing (RM28), Pan roasted pork tenderloin with potato, spinach and balsamic vinegar reduction (RM46), Spring chicken with mediterranean style vegetables (RM34), Homemade fettuccine pasta with crab meat and baby spinach (RM28)

“Sudden morning incense makes me long
For my grandmother’s red altar
And the Jungle Book,
Hiding from afternoon times tables
My mother makes me chant from a sheet.

Trailing after her at the market
The loud,”CHOP” of steel parting meat
The bag of chicken feet, or nangka
Or petai, pigs liver, roses and chat
To the Aunties of the street
With their curious eyes lingering
Between my shoulderblades.”

Other than the balsamic vinegar reduction, nothing masked the robust flavour of the pork tenderloin. The spring chicken was roasted well, but lacked saltiness, an easily rectifiable deficiency. The carpaccio was matched with rather strong ingredients, but they complemented each other rather well.

“Here the kinetic buds foretell
The rain of blossom on the black tar road
Endless patter of water at midnight
Fills me with cool relief
Seasons come and
Leave my past to another country.”

From a poem entitled “Lost Seasons of the Sun and Rain” by Pey Colborne, read at Readings at Seksan’s on May 24, 2008.

Chiaroscuro
Ground Floor, 38 Bidara, (Behind Istana Hotel)
30 Jalan Bedara,
50200 Kuala Lumpur.
Tel: 03-2144 8006

Also see The Zest of Life.

Palate Palette, Jalan Mesui KL

Posted on May 12, 2008 by Lyrical Lemongrass

1.

“Are you the type who likes surprises”, he asked on Facebook.

2.

The best type of surprise. When someone pays attention to what you said in an earlier conversation on Tagore and Murakami and the silken liquid voice of Bernice Chauly.

And he even got it autographed for me. I can’t contain my pleasure.

It’s not always about food.

3.

We are lunchtime alcoholics.

4.

We share delectable gossip at a table converted from an old sewing machine. It is almost like it was meant to be. Except that in the old days, little old ladies at sewing machines told each other stories of the fishmonger who slept with the goreng pisang seller’s daughter. That dirty old man.

5.

Is this a reflection of our minds? A cornucopia of colours, twisted metal and wires? Beneath it all, we are so alike.

6.

My shrimp and avocado salad. A splendid combination of ingredients, but in this case, the finely chopped avocado was rather hard and lacked the creamy, buttery taste of ripe avocados.

7.

His oxtail shepherd’s pie. Braised, hearty, chunky oxtail in a pie with mushroom sauce to pour over it. The surface is a garlic potato combo.

8.

No ordinary fish and chips here. Tempura fried dory with a combination of potato and yam chips, an appealing vertical presentation.

9.

The pastry has a brittle, biscuit-like texture with the aroma of sesame. The custard, sandwiched between the biscuit layers, is creamy and has a faint green tea flavour. This is my favourite.

10.

My weekend sojourn.

11.

12.

“The world is full of metaphors
and I am one of them.”

-Bernice Chauly-

Palate Palette
21 Jalan Mesui, Off Jalan Nagasari
50200 KL.

Tel: 03-2142 2148

Sunday & Weekdays 12pm to 12am
Friday & Saturday 12pm to 2am
Closed Monday.

Website here.

Addendum

Perhaps it is necessary to include the following notes:

1. No bald eagles were harmed in the process.

3. Consent was obtained before making the reference. 🙂

A Whiff of Lemongrass

NOT a food blog

Category Archives: Location: Golden Triangle

Zipangu, Shangri-la Hotel, Kuala Lumpur

1.

080808.

2.

3.

Total bill with 2 bowls of delicious garlic fried rice came up to RM233 (before tax), but with our Prestige Platinum card, we paid only RM134 (with tax). And unlike other high-end establishments, green tea here is complimentary.

Chiaroscuro, KL

1.

“I am living in a landscape that marks the clock
Where heat is the brief midsummer play
Of jasmine on the slated roofs.”

“I’ve lost that endless season
Of sun and rain
Where I eked out existence like a
Lizard on a rock
Quick to run and fix my beady eye
Upon the blazing sun.

Recall, the sudden squall
The gust of wind
The towering rumble from canyons of air
Beating on my pedaling schoolgirl frame
Lonely, toiling uphill past the house
of love lost and friends betrayed.”

2.

“I’ve lost the peculiar awareness burning
At the timid nape of my neck
At tender junctions of elbow and knees
The brown peel chafing away to new skin.”

“Sudden morning incense makes me long
For my grandmother’s red altar
And the Jungle Book,
Hiding from afternoon times tables
My mother makes me chant from a sheet.

Trailing after her at the market
The loud,”CHOP” of steel parting meat
The bag of chicken feet, or nangka
Or petai, pigs liver, roses and chat
To the Aunties of the street
With their curious eyes lingering
Between my shoulderblades.”

“Here the kinetic buds foretell
The rain of blossom on the black tar road
Endless patter of water at midnight
Fills me with cool relief
Seasons come and
Leave my past to another country.”

Palate Palette, Jalan Mesui KL

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Addendum

1.

080808.

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3.

Total bill with 2 bowls of delicious garlic fried rice came up to RM233 (before tax), but with our Prestige Platinum card, we paid only RM134 (with tax). And unlike other high-end establishments, green tea here is complimentary.

1.

“I am living in a landscape that marks the clock Where heat is the brief midsummer play Of jasmine on the slated roofs.”

“I’ve lost that endless season Of sun and rain Where I eked out existence like a Lizard on a rock Quick to run and fix my beady eye Upon the blazing sun.

Recall, the sudden squall The gust of wind The towering rumble from canyons of air Beating on my pedaling schoolgirl frame Lonely, toiling uphill past the house of love lost and friends betrayed.”

2.

“I’ve lost the peculiar awareness burning At the timid nape of my neck At tender junctions of elbow and knees The brown peel chafing away to new skin.”

“Sudden morning incense makes me long For my grandmother’s red altar And the Jungle Book, Hiding from afternoon times tables My mother makes me chant from a sheet.

Trailing after her at the market The loud,”CHOP” of steel parting meat The bag of chicken feet, or nangka Or petai, pigs liver, roses and chat To the Aunties of the street With their curious eyes lingering Between my shoulderblades.”

“Here the kinetic buds foretell The rain of blossom on the black tar road Endless patter of water at midnight Fills me with cool relief Seasons come and Leave my past to another country.”

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Addendum

“I am living in a landscape that marks the clock
Where heat is the brief midsummer play
Of jasmine on the slated roofs.”

“I’ve lost that endless season
Of sun and rain
Where I eked out existence like a
Lizard on a rock
Quick to run and fix my beady eye
Upon the blazing sun.

Recall, the sudden squall
The gust of wind
The towering rumble from canyons of air
Beating on my pedaling schoolgirl frame
Lonely, toiling uphill past the house
of love lost and friends betrayed.”

“I’ve lost the peculiar awareness burning
At the timid nape of my neck
At tender junctions of elbow and knees
The brown peel chafing away to new skin.”

“Sudden morning incense makes me long
For my grandmother’s red altar
And the Jungle Book,
Hiding from afternoon times tables
My mother makes me chant from a sheet.

Trailing after her at the market
The loud,”CHOP” of steel parting meat
The bag of chicken feet, or nangka
Or petai, pigs liver, roses and chat
To the Aunties of the street
With their curious eyes lingering
Between my shoulderblades.”

“Here the kinetic buds foretell
The rain of blossom on the black tar road
Endless patter of water at midnight
Fills me with cool relief
Seasons come and
Leave my past to another country.”