Look at me, and my girl. Nothing phony about those expressions, and what we are eating. Raju- Petaling Jaya, Malaysia. Anyone with a wedge of reason in his/her mind would know that it would be perfectly reasonable to go to Raju instead of some foreign-transplant type food in Malaysia. Think wasabi in KL. Think creamed spinach and hash browns at the hotel. Not cool in a country teeming with uniquely Malaysian, uniquely Asian, flavors. Why bother with the blandness of anything else?
There were tons of Roti Prata, lots of Roti Tisyu, and curried meat. Our friend Sharon had so kindly brought us over to Raju so that we could get a clear understanding of what typical Malaysians would chomp down on a typical Saturday.
I yearn for real hawker culture to unabashedly invade my home country. We have street food here in Manila, but there does not seem to be a method to the madness. As much of a kaledioscope of chaotic sauces, of tangy insanity, what I had seen in Malaysia tended to be, it all made sense. Those from my generation who had been exposed to the Super Nintendo and Playstation games from our collective childhoods would probably remember Mai Shiranui of "Fatal Fury" fame. What she is packing defies gravity, defies sense. Not everything that is illogical is wrong. So much food, outdoors, on leaves. More food you can finish.
It's crazy. It's absolutely correct.
Like any good restaurant you go to with people who matter to you, the feeling you get once you leave, tends to point to when you will actually have the chance to return.
And return we shall.
MC
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