Decidely western in their approach, i'd heard good things about the lamb burger, but chose pork since non-halal places can be tricky to find. For those who pine for tastes more commonly threaded through their psyche, not for weekend travellers who want to explore Malaysian foods endless bounty.

Smack bang in the middle of a South Indian cluster of divine proportions stands this trendy Nyonya eatery. Replete with the token naked brick walls, a hipster bicycle by the entrance, signage done with tongue-in-cheek forethought, and a clinically clean appearance, I had doubts about how the food would venture.

This was a very decent Laksa. Definitely nowhere near the top tier of KL's offerings, but decent. My main gripe would have been the choice of noodles. They were oddly uncomfortable to eat. Broth and accompaniments all held their own, but the noodles dragged all things beneath the murky surface.

Don't even attempt to eat here during rush hours, the line will be so long that you'll resemble a piece of tandoori chicken before you manage to get out of the beating sun. Rather choose the beginning or end of service to have some relative peace. I've heard it upon good authority that this place changed hands recently and the food quality has suffered slightly, whilst the prices have shown phallic growth. Typical how that happens so often eh?

I ventured out in the late afternoon and snagged a table without much ado. The usual was ordered, along with a healthy serving of their deep fried bitter gourd (which is delicious). Everything was good, some of it was great, but none of it was fantatic. It's one of those places that is just not nuanced enough so it captures the majorities attention, whilst other seek out the ones with more acidity, chilli, punch.... 

Battling against the sweltering heat, pearls of sweat peeling off tanning skin, walking down dark alleyways until Madras Lane opens up like an oasis offering treats for the soul. Find the stall with the green bowls, order a curry laksa, pay the old lady grinning soul, occupy a chair of further intense heatspots, try to remain conscious whilst slurping down delicious broth and noodles and cockles and beans and all sorts of other hidden goodnesses. 

Wipe away sweat collecting above brow, replace sunglasses in victory proclamation, push plastic stool back into previous position, walk out into furnace and pray the AC was left on in the hotel room, buy a can of cold coffee and press it against your veins in a form of cooling repentance. 

Blogged about to within an inch of its life, I still had to track it down and give it a go. On the way there my taxi driver grinned in delight that a tourist was heading to his favourite spot.

​To be honest, the chicken and bean sprouts were delicious (if salty). Get yourself a plate, pronto!