Meatball Noodles. For just about anyone who passed their formative years in 1970s American midwestern suburbia, the words conjure up visions of limp pasta and bizarrely squishy nubs of indeterminate origin (are they really meat?) in a sweet, dayglo orange-red sauce. (Lest my mother read this post, I must note that this canned product with the chef on the label was rarely allowed at our table, and only after much whining and begging in the supermarket aisle on my part.)
The meatball and noodle product -- more precisely, meatball noodle soup -- on offer at Chun Heong Coffee Shop in Bangsar couldn't be further from that pseudo-food of my misguided (culinarily, at least) pre-teen years. According to Sandy at the kueh stall across the aisle, this vendor has been in business for more than twenty years; judging by the unlined face of the guy currently slinging noodles and meatballs, he's taken over for an older relative.
As usual, I order my noodles dry, with soup on the side. As my order is prepared, these chilies await their anointing with soy to make a zippy dipping sauce.
Meanwhile my guay teow (wide rice noodles) are softened in boiling water (one half of the pot below is devoted to bobbing meatballs while the other is used to prep noodles) before being tossed into a bowl,
and then sauced with two types of "black sauce" (dark soy and, perhaps, kecap manis?), a bit of oil, and a good-sized spoonful of stir-fried chopped pork.
The result is two thirds of a pork triumvirate: satisfyingly slippery noodles topped with green and white scallion slices, nubbins of chewy, crispy pork (do I detect a hint of star anise in the pork? Sandy says no and the noodle guy's not saying) and a couple of thick slices of succulent, mildly spiced Chinese sausage.
The triumvirate's other third -- the pork meat balls for which this vendor is justly famous -- arrive alongside, floating in a cloudy broth featuring more scallion bits.
Before being formed into balls, the pork is pounded to produce a smooth, somewhat elastic paste. Some makers of meat and fish balls add ingredients to heighten the elasticity of their product and help the balls hold their shape under the duress of a swim in boiling liquid. I'm not enough of a connoisseur at this point to say whether or not our Bangsar vendor does the same, but I will say that these are some of the nicest Asian-style meatballs I've encountered. Springy and somewhat resistant to the bite but not at all rubbery, they evince the flavor of pig and nothing else, and the weak broth lets them take center stage in all their porky glory. Forget the dipping sauce -- these went straight from bowl to mouth with nary an adornment.
Find this Meat Ball Soup vendor at Chun Heong Coffee Shop, Lucky Garden on Lorong Ara Kiri, Bangsar. Early morning to mid-afternoon.
Oh, yum! God they sound good. Though at this point I'm so hungry that even the Chef Boyardee is sounding like something I'd eat... ;)
I tagged you for a new meme...check out my blog Tuesday morning PST for the details!
Posted by: Catherine | 2005.09.20 at 09:25
Oh man Catherine, that's gonna be a bit of a challenge. As you can see I'm not exactly eating in wine-ish establishments these days....
;-)
Posted by: Robyn | 2005.09.20 at 12:43