Bean sprout chicken

A perfectly good meal. Nothing to see here.

I went out in the rain to visit Lou Wong for its famous bean sprout chicken (taugeh ayam). I can see Lou Wong from my 15th-floor apartment, and as soon as Saturday's intense monsoon storm cleared, the number of people milling about looking for tables kept me at bay until around 8 p.m., when I decided to pounce.

The chicken is steamed and salted, cut into strips with heavy cleavers, bones and all, and arrayed photogenically in a puddle of soy and ginger. The rice was perfectly cooked, the bean sprouts were the beaniest and sproutiest they could be. And I swear the moon will crash into the Earth before I remember to bring along tissues when I go out to eat. Malaysian restaurants simply don't believe in napkins. An old lady was selling lottery tickets to a three-generation family at the next table. She took a plastic cup out of the garbage, drank from it, then approached me.

"No lottery."
"One dollar," she said, holding out two packets of tissues.
"You are an angel. Yes, please." I gave her a ringgit. The free market, man.

Bean sprouts! More, please.

Short story: Later that night, I messaged my landlord in KL just to touch base that everything was a go for Wednesday and mentioned in passing that I went to Lou Wong.

His response, verbatim ― "Lou Wong caters to tourist. Ong Kee is where locals go."

At first I'm like "doh!" But it's fucking poached chicken. It's not going to be appreciably better across the street. As rain tapped against my bedroom window, I pondered the irony that Ipoh's most acclaimed dish might be its blandest.

Ong Kee is diagonally across from Lou Wong. If you are so inclined, you may compare and contrast.

Unless I'm missing some critical information, the steamed-chicken ceiling is low. Don't be restaurant-shamed.