I was thinking, the day after our usual July 4th explosions and fist-pumping and beer swilling, about what makes America great. Its the fact that, despite all of the terrorists and predatory bank scandals, and lack of health care, that I at least had the freedom to sit in this rustic/jungle themed cafe and eat a giant breakfast bowl of spicy, steaming curry noodles, with fried and stuffed tofu, eggplant, and bitter melon, all while sipping a glass of chilled Malaysian-styled Ipoh coffee with sweetened condensed milk. Wait, no. Fuck that--that's what makes Malaysia great. Freedom of second-rate choices, (which is how "Penang", the restaurant, measures up to Penang, the paradise), is what makes America simply tolerable. Sometimes.
In some ways, Malaysia is the actual melting pot that we Americans brag about. As a food jerk and a lover of anthropology and people and shit, Malaysian culture (and food) is an unbelievable work of art; a mix of Malay/Indonesian roots, Thai influence, the Hokkien diaspora, and the presence of a sizable South Indian population-- the consolation prize left behind by plundering European colonists. Well, that and the little known "smoked ham-hock curry", I shit you not. If you like any of those foods, Malaysia is your heaven. Naturally, every Malaysian place in the US is thoroughly disappointing. as most of these places are operated by Hokkien entrepreneurs (Chinese originating from Fujian province). While they offer passable versions of the Chinese-influenced dishes of the Malaysian spectrum, they usually fail to deliver the unique, contrasting and explosive flavors one would experience from any given street hawker on the restaurant's namesake island, where I"ve hadsome of the most memorable meals I've ever had in my life, for under a dollar, at 6am in a dingy noodle shop.
Penang is as close to the real thing as I've had, stateside. Those famous rice noodles known as chao kway teow (which can be spelled 7 other ways) was quite good, though lacking the diversity of seafood that warrants a "specialty" tag. The nasi lemak is a great introduction to Malaysian fare, like a Malaysian bento: a heap of light coconut (& screwpine leaf, hopfeully) flavored rice, surrounded by achar (a cross between Indian pickle and kimchi, sorta), a bit of creamy chicken curry, and a pile of ikan bilis, a sort of condiment consisting of deep fried peanuts and tiny anchovies tossed in a tangy and spicy tamarind sauce. Speaking of tamarind, the assam laksa isn't bad, either, Assam laksa is a spicy /sweet/sour mackeral and rice noodle stew. In a perfect world known as Georgetown, this would have the mind altering finishing touches of fresh chilis, fresh mint and fresh pinnapple, torch bud ginger and sweet and stinky syrup on the side. But this isn't Georgetown or KL. Oh well, still decent. I also have a "cendol" fetish, which Penang indulged adequately with their passable version--a mound of ice, green noodles, palm sugar syrup and coconut milk. There may have been sweet red beans in there too...
I'm not entirely sure about Penang's owndership, but, in my experience, they have done just as well as any hidden gem in Queens. But here's th thing. Where is the effing BELACHAN? If you walk by a restaurant purporting to be "Malaysian", you should be struck in the face by the delighful scent of belachan, the fermented paste that carries a delightful bouquet of rotting shrimp anus; the not-so-secret but indispensible condiment of every Malaysian table. Or what about the sweet and slightly astringent scent of Indian curry leaves and other whole Indian spices hitting hot oil. No, Penang doesn't deliver what I want: shrimp ass. Melting pots. Organ meat breakfast stews and "bone teas". Crispy and tender layered flatbreads (roti chennai, which suck EVERYWHERE I've ever had them in the US). Amazing beaches, warm tropical air, monkeys, giant butterflies, monitor lizards, and durian ice cream, which tastes like oniony armpit custard, but is fucking delicious. Truly a land of plenty. Stop eating out and save up for a plane ticket. read more