This one comes purely down to personal preference. MTR's dosa's are Karnataka style, which is slightly different. Heavy on the ghee, it was literally drenched in it, and came with an extra small cup resting on top in case you wanted to pour it over like some maniacal maple syrup from heart-attack land.

KL really is too hot these days. Unnervingly so. Within a second of leaving protective shelter, you are microwaved to the bone with increasing attacks of solar spite. Streets are decimated of life, no shadows seen since everyone crawls in shady spots. The odd lady under an umbrella adds a burst of colour to an otherwise washed palette. 

I needed noodles + soup. The weather was annoying me, so my medication was called for in the shape of a vessel filled to the brim with broth. The 300 meters to Peters Pork Noodles felt like the Dakar Rally, shoes blistering on sulphurous pavements. In these parts wind only adds to the misery, like a thousand hot hair dryers peeling the skin off your face. 

For once, food was not a comforting embrace. In true style, the food court was packed, therefore heightening the heat levels. The pork was dry as a bone, the soup was fairly ok but inanely un-complex, the egg was an egg, there's not really much more elaboration available.