Sate Kajang Haji Samuri, Damansara Uptown

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satay

Delicious phallic symbols of glory.

There’s a certain rawness of manner in using one’s teeth to pull out the pieces of skewered meat on a stick. Almost primitive. The warm meat mixed with the crushed peanut sauce is harmonious.

Human beings have short memories. News today, garbage tomorrow. The case against the popular Kajang satay company on the discharge of toxic effluents is long forgotten. What price for delicious satay?

satay and ketupat

Sate Kajang Haji Samuri used to be available only in Kajang, but the success story has been replicated all over the Klang valley and beyond. Closer to home, for me at least, is the restaurant at Damansara Uptown. Same satay in an attractive setting. Wear your heels and your finery if you like, but remember that all decorum fizzles when you use your fingers and teeth to remove the deliciously grilled meat.

The price is reasonable too. 60 sen (less than USD$0.20) per stick of chicken, beef, beef tripe, chicken liver and fish satay, while mutton, rabbit and venison satay ranges between 90 sen (USD$0.25) and RM1.60 (USD$0.50) per stick. Nasi impit (compressed rice), sliced cucumbers and sliced onions are essential side dishes.

The thick and delicious peanut sauce is served separately from the sambal. Add the sambal at your own risk. It is potent, but guaranteed to make you break into a heated sweat.

Also check out:

Sate Kajang Hj Samuri
No. 79, Jalan 21/37,
Damansara Uptown, Petaling Jaya.
Tel: 03-7710 5318

Of very non-halal quiches and an honorary Makan Club member

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bacon and mushroom quiche by fbb

Our Makan Club has thrived on the diversity of tastes of the various members. And sometimes, looks can be quite deceiving. For instance, it would be wrong to assume that the only person with Indian blood in the Makan Club would have a high tolerance for all things spicy. On the contrary, most of the Makan Club members put me to shame when it comes to eating food with chilli.

The members of the Makan Club consist of people who work at my office. Not because we’re snobs. Far from it. It is merely for the convenience of travelling together to a food destination. So when Smokin’ SOB informed me one day that he would be leaving the firm for “greener pastures” (I am unsure if the pastures are indeed greener, for what could be more joyful than working in our beloved firm? —> Boss Man, please take note of apple polishing), I was unsure what our future as the Makan Club would hold. It was certainly an unprecedented move for the Makan Club. As a founding member, I didn’t want to delete Smokin’ SOB’s name from the list. It would feel so final.

Several farewell parties had been thrown in honour of Smokin’ SOB. One such party was held last weekend…a sort of potluck party (where most of the food was purchased rather than cooked at home! Accountants are busy people too)…and to redeem myself for not cooking, I decided to impress the group with only the best dish. Thankfully, Fatboybakes came to mind; he suggested a very non-halal bacon and mushroom quiche and I immediately agreed. After all, it is virtually impossible to get a good, very non-halal quiche here, and I knew my friends loved very non-halal food. The quiche was amazing! Baked with oodles of chopped bacon and mushrooms in a buttery base, its texture was fluffy and smooth at the same time due to the use of cream rather than milk and it made all the difference in the world. Certainly worth every cent of the RM60 that I paid.

Fatboybakes takes orders, so drop him an email if you ever want to impress your friends. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you passed off his pie or quiche as yours either. Pop it into the oven and let the scent envelope your home. Aaah…better than any room fragrance!

Smokin' SOB

Smokin’ SOB – thank you for being a friend and a confidante. The man at our regular tea stall will miss your taunting. I shall miss my German beer “kaki”, my punching bag, and your car. The office will be quiet without your loud expletives. Okay, that’s a good thing. 🙂 And I shall probably be less drunk without you! Hmmm. Is it me, or does this seem good too? Sigh. There goes the only negative influence in my life.

Call us if you’re ever hungry, dude!

Jangan Lupa Kawan Lama

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coffee

6.00pm. Immediately our body clocks signalled tea-time.

Having tea with friends at the mamak (said in the very broadest of terms) stall is a Malaysian pastime. It’s a time to take a break from the drudgery of work as we make our way to the stall and partake of the local fare. Half an hour later, after a satisfactory meal, we return to our tables and chairs and computers and calculators and files. Until it’s time to go home.

Pretty Pui (PP) and I had a favourite tea-time stall. Located at Jalan Tun Sambanthan 3, opposite the Petronas petrol station in Brickfields, we had been frequenting this place for several years. The slightly wrinkled man with smiling eyes knew our orders by heart. I would get a teh halia (ginger tea) while Pretty Pui’s order was a Nescafe Ais. If we wanted to eat the prepacked nasi lemak, we knew we had to go there early. I would always request for extra sambal for that extra oomph. And sometimes, when I felt extravagant, I’d order a fried omelette, generously drizzled with soy sauce, for that lovely saltiness that tasted so good. On days when we were staying back late at the office, we would order maggi goreng (fried instant noodles) or nasi goreng (fried rice).

At this stall, PP and I would update each other on accounting standards, legal updates and news of the stock market.

That would have taken the whole of 2 minutes.

For the next 28 minutes, we would discuss in detail on ways to get the attention of the cute guy next door.

Occasionally, the wrinkled man with smiling eyes (we called him Uncle) would join in our discussions and offer us nuggets of wisdom. Well, not about getting the attention of the cute guy, but about life in general. He’d always say that it didn’t matter what our jobs were, as long as we earned an honest living.

He led a simple and happy life. When his daughter gave birth, he explained that his wife, who normally worked by his side, had to stay at home to help take care of the grandchild. He loved his wife, giving her whatever she wanted. On Deepavali day, he’d go to Jalan Masjid India to buy new clothes for his wife and his children, ignoring his own needs. He always told us that he didn’t need much to be happy.

Weeks before we moved out of Brickfields, PP and I discussed how we’d inform Uncle of our move. “He’s definitely going to be upset”, we told each other. “We need to soften the blow.”

When we finally summoned the courage to tell him (or perhaps, it was only a way of comforting ourselves of the big move), he took a deep breath and his eyes looked tired. “Jangan lupa kawan lama,” he told us. Don’t forget old friends.

For months after the move, despite not being able to visit his stall as frequently as we did before, PP and I still made the effort to drive over to Uncle’s stall for our favourite drinks and familiar company. When one of us went without the other, he’d ask, “Mana kawan? Ada sihat?” (Where’s your friend? Is she okay?) Sometimes, Boss Man visited his stall, and he’d come back and tell us that Uncle asked about us. Boss Man told us that he could tell that Uncle was very fond of us. Words like that warmed our hearts.

Y Y Y

It has been over a month since I last visited Uncle’s stall. Boss Man told me today that Uncle had passed away from a heart attack 2 weeks ago. I never got to say goodbye.

This is my goodbye. What a privilege it has been to be a part of your life. I’ll never forget you, old friend.