Malaysia's coffeehouse culture

I think I get it. A guy opens a coffeehouse, invests in the chairs and tables, hires a staff to wipe 'em down, brew the beans, chat up the customers and generally keep order. But he doesn't stop there. He sets up stalls, in this corner, in that corner, and invites street hawkers to rent them out. One vendor sells only chicken and pork skewers. Another makes only noodle soup, another only caramel custard. A coffeehouse like this in Malaysia is called a kopitiam, and you see the concept fully realized at Restoran Thean Chun at the western terminus of Concubine Lane.

Clockwise from top left: pork and chicken satay with cucumber chunks, soy sauce with super-hot green peppers, a kopi-C, and peanut sauce.

It's all pretty confusing for a hungry newcomer, but I learned a lot today through trial and error. Here is how my second visit to Thean Chun would go, and I think this might be helpful to any solo travelers out there: Walk in, stop at the first stall on the right and order the chicken and prawn noodle soup (kasi hor fun) because it will take the longest to make. Then find a table. Good luck with this. I became pretty adept at sitting at other people's tables in Hong Kong, where it's culturally acceptable to do so. You smile, you bow, and you learn that people lie about waiting for non-existent dining partners about to arrive. It's all OK!

When you find a table for yourself, place a non-valuable personal item on it ― a cap, for instance ― to reserve it, and visit the other stalls, placing your orders. No need to point out your location; they are incentivized to find you. Sit back and watch the magic unfold. This doesn't apply to groups, mind you, but we table-for-one guys have got to work harder.

The result is that you will ― at your table ― make about five different payments to people who stop by with your orders.

Kasi hor fun, a chicken and prawn soup with extremely soft, flat rice noodles in a shrimp broth, with a side of what I am assured are Asia's plumpest, juiciest bean sprouts. People from Kuala Lumpur dream about these in their sleep. The flavors of both are restrained. The sprouts remind me of baby corn you swipe from a farmer's field in southern Ontario before maturation ― you can taste the earthy terroir in which they were grown.

The ordering of coffee has its own elaborate, Starbucks-type lingo. If you order a "coffee" (kopi; just swap consonants), you will get a coffee with condensed milk, which is kinda sweet. A kopi-C is coffee with evaporated, unsweetened milk. I think the "C" stands for Carnation. Kopi-O is black coffee with sugar. Hardcore black coffee without milk or sugar would be kopi-O kosong. For iced coffee, add the word teng. All these terms are from the Chinese Hokkien dialect. Culturally, Malaysia is a three-legged stool (Malay, Indian and Chinese). Ipoh leans Chinese, if you catch my drift.

Spring rolls (popiah) ― at room temperature, not fried ― with a crepe-like casing, surely rice-based, smeared with either a plum or date sauce. The crunchy filling is largely a mystery. I broke one apart with my hands and can confirm only sprouts and crushed peanuts, with a presumption of shallots, maybe turnips? This was a real surprise to me. I encountered so many new flavor combinations today that I am still trying to process them.

Keep in mind I've only been here three whole days, but I'm a quick learner. If this post helps just one solo backpacker or middle-aged wanderer, I will be gratified. Enjoy!