Eating History

Everytime we drive down Jalan Raja Laut, through Kuala Lumpur's historic city center, we see them: bewildered tourists, guidebook in hand, gazing at Merdeka Square and the majestic edifices that surround it, wondering, 'Where's the there here?'

I sympathize. This crop of dated, history-laden buidlings (there aren't that many of them left in KL, anymore) sits in a section of the city utterly devoid of human activity. There's the Tudor-style Selangor Club, windows blackened as if to shut out prying eyes, its green cricket pitch empty. And the concrete expanse of Merdeka Square, site of only of the rare promotional event (or National Day celebration, which must have been something to see before Malaysia's seat of government was moved to Putrajaya), otherwise bleakly vacant. KL's not much of a walking city to begin with; busy, five-lane Raja Laut and the lack of anyplace to stop for a bite or a beverage makes the area even less hospitable to visitors than usual.

I want to grab these disappointed folks - the ones who've made the effort to see something of KL other than its shopping malls - by the hand and walk them a couple of blocks north, and east, to Tun H.S. Lee, a street of old Chinese shophouses (many, unfortunately, now vacant or badly renovated and adorned with 'For Rent' signs). I want to sit them down in a plastic chair at an old formica-topped table at Hong Ngek, a typical Hokkien restaurant that's been in the same family, at the same spot, for over seventy years. I want to tell them that the yellowed, peeling paint on the ceiling and the cracked tile walls and the faded, magic-markered menu posted almost too high to read are real, living history, the history of just one of the many communities of immigrants who came to Kuala Lumpur long ago as imported labor and stayed to build their own small businesses - the kind of history that's getting harder and harder to find in Asian cities, the kind that is too often overlooked by travel writers.

I'd like to introduce them to Hong Ngek's brusque-yet-friendly proprietor and his daughter-in-law, who will inform them that the restaurant's well-loved sambal, a limey, fishy, surprisingly spicy puree of chiles, is still made according to the original owner's recipe. I'd encourage them to solicit his and her opinions about what's best to eat.

If my rescued tourists were lucky they'd end up with stir-fried dongfen (bean thread noodles) and sweet and sour pork (a rice dish and a noodle dish, 'for variety'). The dongfen would be smoky from the wok that's given birth to thousands and thousands of previous orders. Just kissed with oil, the noodles would be twined around that 'Chinese-tasting' combination of Napa cabbage, pork, shrimp, scallions, bean sprouts, egg, and soy. They'd be pleasantly toothsome and completely comforting.

Hong Ngek's sweet and sour pork would be a surprise, at least for anyone who's familiarity with this southern Chinese dish (Hokkien/Fujian is a province on China's southeast coast) extends only to the poorly executed versions standard at American-Chinese restaurants. The pork, deep-fried to a non-greasy crisp, would be in big, meaty, two-bite pieces, and the sauce, as tartly sour as sweet, would contain not a hint of gloppiness. The taste of the meat would hold sway over other elements in the dish and there'd be no fruit - no pineapple, no tomato - except on the side, as a garnish.

If my companions were adventurous, they'd take a stroll around the restaurant to see what other tables held. They might spy these delectable crab balls - a mixture of crab and pork, really, and slightly crunchy carrot and Chinese celery, the whole mix touched with a hint of nutmeg - wrapped in the thinnest tofu skin and deep-fried to golden. They'd be crazy not to place an order.

Sitting at their table near Hong Ngek's entrance, these tourists might be approached by a couple of sprightly ladies of a certain age heading out for a spot of shopping after their weekly lunch. They'd be surprised to learn that  one of these women, who's probably someone's grandmother, plays football and cricket, and enjoys a good workout at the track. They'd welcome these seasoned regulars' advice to return to Hong Ngek soon for the 'wonderful' sweet and sour fish, soup on the side.

And, they might leave Hong Ngek with something that a roll of photos of Merdeka Square, the Selangor Club, the Industrial Court, and the sanitized Central Market could never offer - a sense of Kuala Lumpur as a city of neighborhoods, of anonymous lived lives and personal, rather than famous, histories. The most mundane, but interesting, histories - the kind the guide books rarely tell.

(Thanks to the reader who pointed us in the direction of Hong Ngek.)

Hong Ngek Restaurant, 50 Jalan Tun H.S. Lee (aka Jalan Bandar), steps from Jalan Tun Perak, Kuala Lumpur. Tel. 03-20787852. 1030am-7pm (5pm on Saturdays). Closed Sundays and public holidays.

UPDATE August 2013: 

We're sad to learn that the days of Hong Ngek's crab balls are no more, according to reader Pete, who reports that "Hong Ngek today no longer offers Xinghua Hokkien food, but one-plate "dai chow " dishes which KL's office workers in that area look for."

Comments

[Cupcake]

Hrrmph! I thought I'd be really smart and look at your blog when I'm full from lunch. Instead, now I find that I'm hungry again! And it's just an hour after munch time.

Great story, and great pics too. I can almost taste the sweet and sour pork. And the crab balls too.

We really should go to Penang. There are loads of places like these there!

[szer]

Wow..good stuff...there's also a famous Pan Mee near Jln Raja Laut..with really spicy dried chilli paste

[serena]

amazing, robyn, you've outdone yourself with this post. the number of times that i've been asked what, besides the twin towers, are "musts" for tourists - & the number of times that i've stumped as to what to say! the food, the food, & the history that lies behind deceptively blank facades.

thanks for a great post, will have to check out hong ngek.

[Robyn]

Cupcake - the only solution seems to be ... read the blog WHILE you're eating? ;-)

szer - do tell. I am a huge fan of Kinkin's (Chow Kit) pan me with spicy dried chili paste and would love to know about another version....

serena - thanks. Look, it must be said that not *every* tourist is gonna 'get' a place like Hong Ngek. But I do think there are many out there who want to find a place like this but just don't know where to look. You said it best -- 'the history that lies behind the blank facades.'

[RST]

Yes, this is one of the most eloquent posts on this blog.

[szer]

yar..that's the one..the dry pan mee near chow kit..but the kinkin one is overated i think..there's one just opposite it that is cheaper and just as good

[szer]

and..i think there's a lot of places like this in ipoh..just that people dont know where to go..but i grew up knowing a lot of these hawkers...almost like a family..its amazing that in ipoh..even after 20 years..some of the ppl are still at the same places selling their grub

[Robyn]

szer - kinkin is always packed while the other is always empty. Perhaps we need to buck the trend. Yes, gotta get to Ipoh. Dave's been a few times now and always comes back raving about lunch.

[RST]

Just want to note that there's a brief glimpse of Restoran Hong Ngek in Tsai Ming Liang's haunting "I Don't Want To Sleep Alone". The lonely all-night Chinese restaurant in the film, which is frequented by migrant workers (Bangladeshis, Africans, groups of Filipinos) in the film looks almost exactly like the interior of Hong Ngek (above). Tsai Ming Liang's Kuala Lumpur is a city of silences (no one speaks) and voids (empty stretches of highways, abandoned construction sites etc), but the film itself, though "minimalist", is packed with details, both aural and visual. It is a melancholy city of night-time street walkers and migrant workers-in fact possibly the only glimpse of Malaysian Malays that we get in the film is that of an old beggar couple seated in a tunnel of some sort singing a vaguely-food-related folk song about a handful of uncooked rice and seven birds thrown into a pot to be served to the king...

Richard
[email protected]

[RST]

Just want to note that there's a brief glimpse of Restoran Hong Ngek in Tsai Ming Liang's haunting "I Don't Want To Sleep Alone". The lonely all-night Chinese restaurant in the film, which is frequented by migrant workers (Bangladeshis, Africans, groups of Filipinos) in the film looks almost exactly like the interior of Hong Ngek (above). Tsai Ming Liang's Kuala Lumpur is a city of silences (no one speaks) and voids (empty stretches of highways, abandoned construction sites etc), but the film itself, though "minimalist", is packed with details, both aural and visual. It is a melancholy city of night-time street walkers and migrant workers-in fact possibly the only glimpse of Malaysian Malays that we get in the film is that of an old beggar couple seated in a tunnel of some sort singing a vaguely-food-related folk song about a handful of uncooked rice and seven birds thrown into a pot to be served to the king...

Richard
[email protected]

[J2Kfm]

Great post, I can almost relate to your story.
As time goes by, the younger generations (mine included - 80's baby) started to forsake the few and far in between eateries, those lining the battered streets, ie the old town of Ipoh.
Penang is the ONLY place that really promotes this type of heritage eats, with Teochew restaurants and Hokkien food still plying the menu consistently.

No more mall foods, I'd say.

[Pete]

Hong Ngek today no longer offers Xinghua Hokkien food, but one-plate "dai chow " dishes which KL's office workers in that area look for.

[Robyn]

Sorry to hear that Pete, but thanks for the update.

[Observer]

Who says they are no longer selling crab balls? They were selling it as late as 6pm on a Thursday, together with their usuals such as the koo low yolk.

[Observer]

That's not true that they no longer offer dishes. They still do when I went at 5pm.