Mint-topped assam laksa at Big Tree Foot, Jalan King and Pasar Pinji, on Ipoh's south side.
I happily sunk myself into today's lunch at Dai Shu Geok Big Tree Foot and will eternally remember it as a meal sent down by some Supreme Being to redeem the human race. I walked there, which no sensible Malaysian person would ever contemplate. There is a palpable antipathy toward the pedestrian here. Not antagonism, mind you ― I find the motorists in Ipoh to be adorably cautious. The thing is, in this self-reinforcing state of affairs, nobody walks because it is stressful to do so. Why give any thought to the walker's experience when nobody walks?
Of course I use cabs and Grab (Southeast Asia's version of Uber), but prefer not to because the risk of traveling at high speeds in a stranger's car is immense. If I am to be maimed, it should be by my own miscalculation, not someone else's.
Fish-stuffed peppers, part of the yong tau fu lineup at Big Tree Foot.
One other thing, also pedestrian-related. You can tell Ipoh is an ancient city (and it is one of the peninsula's oldest) by the height of its sidewalks. Thoroughfares generally remain unchanged, but over centuries, people tend to build on the detritus of their ancestors. We're living on top of garbage, in other words. People don't build on streets, naturally, or they wouldn't be streets. After 900 years or so, you've developed a big 18-inch differential, which is why you see boulders and bricks and transitional ramps easing the way from today's sidewalks to yesterday's boulevards in cities like Bologna, Beirut and Cairo. And Kuala Lumpur and Ipoh.
Right, the food at Big Tree Foot. First, you line up for yong tau fu, which kinda looks like Japanese tempura. You grab a bowl and a pair of tongs, and a lady adds up the number of pieces you have in your bowl. Then you make the decision on which every meal here pivots ― rice or noodles? Noodles, please.
She's counting pieces of yong tau fu and calculating your bill.
Your cashier takes your bowl, cuts up some of the bigger pieces with scissors and splits your selections into two bowls. I don't know how she decides what items go in which bowl, but she's quite decisive. One bowl will be laksa noodles, one bowl will be yong tau fu. She asks where you'll be sitting. That's it. Then a little kid comes around and asks you what you want to drink, and you say "iced red bean" (because you've been to Hong Kong and have the internet), and after that, you sit and wait for the tide to come in.
Maybe it's my Euro-centrism, but I prefer firmer noodles. These are like vermicelli noodles, almost translucent. I just don't find them "fun" to eat, but everything's an acquired taste. I spent a lot of time with the assam laksa broth. It is insanely complex ― tangy, sour and smoky. What is going on, I wonder? Clove, for one thing. Garlic and ginger. Nutmeg? I can see and taste sweet red onion. Something citrusy/lemony, but there's no way ― Asians don't use lemons; lemongrass, sure, but that's not it. The only thing I can think of is tamarind, which gives pad thai its zing. Right part of the world; it adds up. The slightly bitter smokiness? I have no clue. I have signed up for a cooking class in KL, so I will ask.
I cannot stop thinking about these fried fish cakes ⤕ their firm texture, in particular, and just how snappy and sprightly they are in your mouth.
The pieces of yong tau fu seem to have minced fish in common, for the most part. The peppers, for instance, are stuffed with fish. Those discs that look like freshly baked cookies? Fried versions of fishballs, and seriously they are so bouncy and fun to eat. One of the pieces of yong tau fu I chose turned out to be a breaded, fried hard-boiled egg! When you factor in the pint glass of creamy, sweet red bean juice ... I was just astounded by the whole experience. Just considering the liveliness and unpredictability of what lay before me, it was easily one of the most memorable meals I have ever had in Asia.
Why is red bean ice not readily available back home? What is holding us back?
I walked home in a sweaty dazzle, stopping roadside for a hot bowl of sweet bean curd and at a bakery for a box of flaky kaya puffs (with a coconut milk/sugar/egg filling), which I am now eating over the sink. Strike me with your cars, you ridiculous humans. I am already deceased.
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