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!

Another extremely long detour outside of central KL led me to this neighbourhood joint, set in a small enclave devoid of tourists. I noticed the noodle machine at the entrance where they hand-make them every day. Good sign.

The restaurant was decorated like a Japanese lamp hoarders cave. Tons of them hanging from the ceiling and Kanji wording plastered on the walls in that typical chaotic calm. 


The most important part of course is the food. I personally don't care if i'm eating on a sinking ship as long as the food is up to par (and there's a life-jacket). Solid noodles, decent broth, tender pork and a pretty good egg. All in all, they knew what they were doing but just need a little more umami in the soup. A very promising shop that I could see hitting it's stride in a year or two if they stay the course and push.

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.

With hankerings for Dim Sum becoming a daily annoyance, thankfully Ipoh had me covered. Expect a line of revellers eyeing your table before you're even done, this place is insanely popular. Not what you'd call exceptional Dim Sum, but completely acceptable.