Restaurants link
buttonPrevious winners
Mix and Match dining
So the kids are demanding pizza, but you feel you should eat Thai because you are in Thailand after all, and it will cost a fortune when you get home, your partner wants Japanese because ‘you never take them out for sushi’ and Auntie Evelyn would just like ‘a nice cup of tea dear’.
Where do you go?
The place to satisfy you all and your best friend who wants Vietnamese food, and your uncle who wants Indian, and the cousin who only eats Chinese noodles, is the Foodloft, Central, Chitlom.
This place has “mix and match” food to suit everyone. And it is very popular with locals and tourists, so it is quite noisy and not at all intimate. We had to wait to get a table for all of us, but then they let us sit for long time after we had finished eating.
As we entered we were handed a card with a barcode, which is swiped each time you order from a kitchen, and you either wait for the food to be cooked or ask a waiter to collect it for you after a few minutes.
The only problem was, we found it was too difficult to choose and in the end we tried a little of everything: dim sum with Caesar salad, tempura with som tom and tacos (there was a special demonstration kitchen doing Mexican food) with phad Thai, all washed down with juices, smoothies or wine.
Oh, and Auntie Evelyn had her nice cup of tea. And a great big piece of sticky chocolate cake too.
Seafood Shangri-La
Oban. January. Raining. Really raining. Raining so hard, it drained all colour from what should have been a glorious view of the Isle of Lismore across the water from the harbour. My rucksack feels like lead, my feet are cold, I’ve got a mild headache and I’m hungry. I’m really hungry. I look around for eatery choices and it was looking like I would have to, yet again, squelch my way into another tartan carpeted cliche restaurant for yet another Rob Roy set menu for one.
Shuffling my leaden feet around the corner to have a look at the car ferry just arriving at the quayside, I see a shack. A little green shack. A little green shack that sells seafood – the kind of seafood that fancy restaurants can only dream of serving.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Oban’s little green seafood shack, otherwise known as the Temple of Seafood Heaven, Seafood Valhalla, Seafood Shangri-La, or Seafood Bliss.
This place prepares fresh, inexpensive seafood right there in front of you, which has been caught right there in the seas in front of you, and landed right there on the very quay you are stood on. They serve the finest crab, lobster and smoked salmon – the likes of which I have never tasted before in my life. Local shellfish of every description are there in small, cheap portions for you to try. The friendly, chatty staff will make you a fresh seafood sandwich just to your liking while you wait and whatever you decide to buy, it’ll hardly cost you anything.
I sat down on the bench they provide and tucked in to my purchases. Ok, it was still drizzling rain, but as I munched away an imaginary steel band was playing in my head and my spirits lifted. Come to think of it, my headache had gone too. Touring western Scotland wasn’t that bad after all – in fact, it was great. Thanks, little green seafood shack!
Bamboo! Tofu! They’re from Asia!
True or false.
You use cutlery to eat noodles.
You like to ogle pedestrians while looking cool and cultured.
You have never been and don’t ever want to go anywhere in Asia, ever.
You are really, really white.If you answered true to two or more of the above, well, enjoy! Noodle Box is your new favourite restaurant.
It’s lunchtime and you want something quick, but not a sandwich. This restaurant hopes noodles are the answer and that you won’t notice they’ve ruined every single Asian cuisine, all at once. Peanuts designate your meal is “Thai-style” and “Asian greens” are for teriyaki lovers. Exotic!
From its cliched zen interior (bamboo! It’s from Asia!), patrons have ring-side seats to watch Kitsilano’s residents strut from shopping to spa. Order your food at the till from a native English speaker (none of that awkward language barrier) and wait for your meal to be called. Then you can safely hop the Pacific in one swift jump without any of that dirt…or culture. It’s like Las Vegas, for your mouth! Indeed this is Asia stripped bare and rearranged into various combinations of “noodles” and “bean sprouts” and “tofu”. (Tofu! It’s from Asia!)
If your taste buds and cultural acumen begs you to distinguish between the many flavours and cooking styles of a vast region, Vancouver is definitely the place for it. Hugging the ocean, next stop Japan, there are plenty of “exotic” and “adventurous” restaurants mere paces from Noodle Box. Try the Thai-2-Go on Cornwall and Yew; it’s run by real live Thai people and you can eat on the beach across the road. Now that’s Vancouver.
Have your pancakes and eat them too
Ravenously roaming the cobbled streets of Tallinn after a long day’s sightseeing, we asked a local to recommend a good and cheap place to eat. ‘Kompressor’ replied the elfin-visaged yet grungy bookstore attendant instantly, helpfully marking it on the map. We dubiously set off for our destination, thinking it sounded like the title of an overlooked Schwarzenegger film and expecting to find a heavy-metal dive filled with threatening-looking characters serving knuckle sandwiches. Imagine our surprise, then, to find a warmly lit, unpretentious cafe-bar teeming with students animatedly chatting over beers and heaped plates, bopping along to the latest Eurovision hit broadcast over the radio (which seemed to be playing the song on a continuous loop, much to our chagrin).
And now for the main course: the pancakes, or pannkoogid as the Estonians call them. Now, I’ve tasted some delicious pancakery in my time : potato blini in Russia, nutella-coated crepes in France and maple-syrup soaked flapjacks in Canada . These, however, were pure Baltic bliss. Close to the thin texture of a French crepe, the delicacies served by Kompressor ranged from steaming savoury delights to sweet dessert treats. I ordered a champignon and blue cheese pancake, while my dining companion opted for the apples and vanilla sauce variety. A steal at between 25 and 70 EEK. Our eyes certainly proved bigger than our stomachs, however, and the pancakes even larger at around 25 inches across…
I know where I’ll be spending the next Shrove Tuesday. Hearty, simple, delicious food at a decent price: what more could you ask? Well, maybe for a change of radio station…
Be the only American in the room
Tired of the study-abroaders-at-night scene, four American girls and I followed our gracious host Antonio to the small upstairs bar overlooking Santa Maria Novella. The upstairs is small and generally packed with bodies flailing to the latest Euro-club favorite, Elvis or Britney Spears, so soon we found ourselves surrounded by Italians, glistening in the hottest fashions as we sweat ourselves sober.
“Gli Americani non vengano qui mai.” or “Americans never come here,” we were told four or five times, at least two of those times by the bartender who found it in her heart to spray us down with water and aim for cleavage with ice cubes.
As hot as it was and as small as it was, this bar was the best time any of the five of us had in Italy. We danced, for fear of being the one person in the room to stand still. We met Italians – real Italians – not the Italians who show up at all American clubs looking for some blonde tail. We all lost our voices from laughing.
Go to Colle Bereto at night.
The Restaurant of porking paths
On a rare, grey gloomy day, with Cambalache in the air, we trotted in with our snouts held high.
If a group of cannibalistic pigs decided to set up a burlesque house-cum-Spanish tavern for cabaret and dining, it might look a little like this. There was no singing – thankfully, though it seemed like there should have been – just plenty of scoffing sounds, not quite oinking (they were too busy with the business of eating).
With its old world, wooden charm and varnish; and, at least partial, privacy from the prying eyes – of those waiting on, and waiting at other tables – a must for any piggish diner.
It was much more stylish than our pigsty, pig-stylish you could say – for posh pigs. Alas the same cannot be said of the clientele – it was full of foreigners feasting on all things fleshy; all that was missing was our communal trough.
When asked about their pork portions, they told us:
“9/10 greedy pigs prefer their pork from the Museo del Jamon.
This ham will have you squealing with delight, and will make you squeal with piggish pleasure.
We’re addicted to the piggy. Who said religion was the pork of the people – pork is our opium.
The best looking piece of pork I’ve seen since Miss Piggy; just don’t tell Kermit – he wasn’t on the menu; you’ll have to go to a French restaurant to eat him.”Being pigs, we ate sea food, we’re not cannibals.
As for our meal – we’ll leave that description in the capable trotters of our preferred blind porkteno piggy poet, who wrote a poem about dining in this very restaurant:The Old Restaurant and the Sea
Ravenous fish caught by fishermen’s bate,
Enormous cylinder shapes of pasta
Swimming around the oceanic plate.
Teeming with a pescados plethora
Aromatic seafood fresh from the deep;
Unusual herbs with flavours sublime.
Rare is this treat, as it’s not very cheap.
Artists created this seafood shoreline,
Nautical noshing and nausea free,
To fill your mouth with the taste of the sea.J.L. Porkers
‘Send a salami to your boy in the army!’
Sure, you’d think your boy in the army might prefer a letter from home, maybe some new socks, but the neon sign at the famous Katz’s Deli proclaims it’s salami they need and they might have a point. What Katz’s does with smallgoods would make the most war-hungry soldier lay down his gun in favour of a whopping pastrami on rye.
Katz’s Deli (yes, it’s the deli more famous for the faked orgasm scene in ‘When Harry Met Sally’, and if the waiters had a dime for every time some yuckster had said ‘I’ll have what she’s having’, you can bet they wouldn’t hardly be waiting tables anymore) on New York’s Lower East Side is still the real deal – classic Jewish fare is hurled across the counter for you to enjoy under the gallery of signed celebrity photos. Matzoh ball soup certainly tastes a little more piquant under the gaze of Bill Clinton.
Many people would say that the classic New York diner is disappearing, and that’s true to some extent, but Katz’s (in business since 1888 already!) remains loyal to a toughened clientele who can knock off a serve of brisket and pickles and leave the Pepto Bismol to the amateurs.
No roast seagull here – but maybe there should be…
This colourful fish-n-chippy wallows in the mud for much of the day, while wheeling seagulls cackle and laugh at it. But it’s definitely worth a bite when the sparkling Tamar River is visiting. Just check tides in the local paper first and obey.
Chips and fish are cooked on the fly by chefs hovering over shiny stainless steel. Chips are big and crunchy and the fish is juicy and light. Everything’s tasty and filling, so the price is right.
These chefs can cook scallops like nothing else. Fried scallops are often reminiscent of those scary “fish balls” – where you can’t tell which part of the animal they were made from, but they weren’t of the scallopus regulatus species. Yuck! But THESE scallops are tender and translucent, subtle and sublime. Sweet and succulent. And those little crunchy orange tails, ah, it’s heaven on a fork! You need these scallops OK.
You can get wine here and beer (and local fantabulous ice cream too), so it’s not out of the question to bring your chickadee or man-hunk round for a quiet evening. But families converge during the early evenings on Fridays and weekends, so plan ahead.
Speaking of the kids, they’ll love mucking around with the chalk and chalkboard to their hearts’ content – the board is huge, and there’s jazzy paintings of seafood delights in their original live statesswimming around the edges. You can have your dinner and draw it, too.
And folks, the seagulls around here are big cheeky buggers, so for those poultry aficionados who’ve been cajoled just this once into seafood, just munch your way through big healthful forkfuls of omega-3 fatty acids while planning your roast seagull restaurant for the next empty rental on the waterfront. I believe there’s a lot of potential here to close the ecosystem.
One last tip. Don’t eat their tartare sauce. It’s seriously lame. Smuggle in your own jar inside your handbag today and season like a king!
Smell the coffee..
There is a place in Calcutta where it’s still circa 1975. Indira Gandhi is still prime minister and the cold war still rages on.
That place is the old Indian Coffee House on College Street which seems to be stuck in some kind of a socialist time wrap. Black-and-white framed photographs of Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, and Indira Gandhi adorn the walls of the coffee house. The interiors are shabby; the waiters are dressed in uniforms that look like props from an old Indian movie. Their elaborate headdresses are usually a metaphor for the type of service on offer: clean, starched and upright, or limp and ill-fitting. The lemon water still comes with seeds floating in it, and the cold coffee is exactly the same as the hot coffee, except that it is served cold. Nothing has changed in thirty years. Yet, despite the coming of many trendy new coffee joints, the old coffee house holds a unique place in the hearts of the people of Calcutta.
Here the coffee comes as coffee, no frills, no fancy names. And it’s delicious. For a handful of rupees per cup, you can’t complain. For these and other reasons the coffee house has been a favourite Calcutta hangout. Its cups of coffee have fuelled many a lengthy discussion on politics or cinema or literature, or simply who the prettiest girl in town is. And even if you order just one cup of coffee and use it as an excuse to sit and idle away an entire afternoon, nobody really minds.
The coffee house operates as a worker’s co-operative and is unmolested by the cynicism and profiteering of the corporate world. And for better or worse, it shows. Maybe it’s a place trapped in time. But perhaps it’s a place in time that people of Calcutta prefer.
SCENE #1: Lunch on A Magic Leaf
It’s the weekday lunch hour. Parking in Bangsar is a hopeless lucky draw. You’ve set your mind on the perfect lunch for this uncomfortable heat – rich, hot, spicy curry and a generous helping of rice and herbs on banana leaf – Hey, it’s your life.
Within seconds of leaving your air-conditioned vehicle, sweat soaks your shirt; your head pounds. You reach Devi’s Corner, and wait 5 minutes before you find a table amidst the full crowd.
YOU: Boss – one banana leaf. Fried chicken, thigh, chopped up; drink – iced lemon tea.
WAITER #1: (Nods curtly, doesn’t look you in the face, grunts, and walks away. Clock’s ticking, ya know?)
You decide to eat with your hand, even if it’ll take 3 washes before the curry wears off your fingers. Because using utensils would be wrong. Would you eat pizza with a fork? NO.
3 waiters serve you in 3 different stages.
WAITER #2: (Brings you the banana leaf and scoops steaming white rice onto it)
WAITER #3: (Comes with three sorts of vegetables – hopefully deep fried bitter cod included – and poppadom chips)
WAITER #4: (Brings the curry gravy – chicken, mutton or fish? – And drowns your rice)
Waiter #1, from earlier, will be the one bringing your drink and the chicken. It’s just a system they have here.
The first scoop – you mix rice, one green, chicken, and a chomp of poppadom. Then you rotate and repeat the next few scoops, or mix them all. There’s just something about how the ingredients slide and blend easily on the slick surface of the leaf.
By the 10th bite, you start to feel the effect of a successful “Banana Leaf”. This is when the herbs and spices kick in – the fulfilment of appetite meets contented daze. A gastronomic drug that nourishes for just RM12.
Again, if you’re lucky, you don’t have to return the office later and face battling the next 3 hours trying to focus (so instead you Facebook to look busy), because you could just go home and watch TV. Or nap. That. Is. The Life.
Pure coronary-inducing bliss.
I can’t believe my eyes.
Can it be true…
…or have I gone one shot of raksi too far and been reduced to utter delirium?
The day I stumbled upon BK’s place in the backstreets of Thamel was the day my faith in humanity was restored. The world is a truly beautiful place.French fries, freedom fries, hot chips, call them what you will…these golden, artery-clogging pieces of potatoey goodness just don’t exist in Nepal, and like any good young Australian male with little to no respect for my poor body and what I fill it with, I had been having cravings.
Serious cravings.
And then came BK’s.BK’s is a small takeaway joint claiming to have the best (and only) belgian fries in Kathmandu, and I can honestly say I believe it. Not only do I believe it but I would go even further and say they are better than the real Belgian fries. Or maybe that’s just the raksi talking again.
Anyway, try a cone of fries with some topping (get a regular, it’s plenty), washed down with a local beer for good measure (Everest or Nepal Ice) in the shady courtyard. But bring your wallet and be prepared to use it, BK know’s he’s onto a good thing and prices accordingly. You can also buy mo-mos and other fried snacks, although as is the rule all over Nepal, when eating mo-mos, stick with the vegie ones. When you see where the meat comes from you’ll understand why.
After my first blissful encounter with BK’s, I came back every 2nd day while working in Kathmandu, despite the concerned look of BK and his daughter who seemed to be picturing my heart stopping right there in their courtyard.
There’s no way to romanticise it or spin it beyond what it is…a good old fashioned greasy chip shot. It may not be authentic, and it DEFINITELY isn’t the place for that candle-lit dinner on your last night in Nepal, but after weeks of dal bhaat, you can’t do much better than a deep-fried afternoon pick-me-up at BK’s Place.
Do the Kopi-Shmoki
Scones, smoothies, soy-milk
Hippies, cookies, veggies
Arty, farty, bagel-party
Cheese-plateScreenplay, sketchbook, cozy nook
White tea, green tea, red tea, blue tea
Musician, deglutition, nutrition
PercolateDessert, de-stress, defrost
Creative, meditative, vegetative
Outcast, outspoken, non-smokin
Kopi Cafe
Where vegetables go to die…
Meat. Lots of it. Germany seems to have a Festival of Meat – Ein Festivisch
die Meaten as it is known, I believe, in the original German. It runs 365
days a year. You cannot avoid it. Stock up on greens before you enter the
country.We turned up at the Zur Letzen Instanz, an eating house tucked down a warren of medieval streets in East Berlin. Two claims to fame.
One, it’s the oldest pub/restaurant in Berlin.
Two, Napoleon once ate here.History does not record what Napoleon ordered, but I can tell you with dead
certainty:
Meat. Lots of it.We perused the menu.
Immediately we paused. Pork knuckles.
Pigs have knuckles?
Rouladen.
Sauerbraten.
Veal schnitzel.
Jagdwurst.Taking comfort from the bar and the knowledge we had scurvy-fighting oranges back at the hotel, we surrendered to the forces of the flesh.
We ate lots of good German meat, washed down with lots of good German beer.I noticed a bust of Napoleon on display, apparently over his favourite seat.
I saluted him with my beer stein as I realized why he went to Russia: for the
vegetables.
Cheap & tasty
Between the sheep’s heads and snail soup, smoke billows as the turmeric-tinted brochettes are grilling. Spiralling ever upwards toward the darkening sky, merging to blanket the food carts and their white-capped workers. I smell the spices. I smell the cooking meat. I smell people as the crowd swarms around me. This is Marrakesh and the evening food fiesta in its Djemma-el-Fna
I pass the orange juice stalls, where I regularly stop for a sweet fresh juice at only 3 dirhams, then the dried fruit and nut stalls where dates, apricots, peanuts and almonds are piled high. Finally passing the squatting henna lady I enter the alleys between the food carts. “You want to eat, you like brochette, you want dinner then come sit here”, assaults my ears from all sides as the stall touts jostle for my business. A menu is pushed under my nose, but I escape with my standard reply “Maybe later”.
Finally I reach my destination, Stall number 1, long tables with bench seats. A place mat of a piece of paper. Here salads are piled high in silver bowls: potato, beetroot, eggplant, while brochettes sit geometrically aligned on trays waiting for their turn on the BBQ. In between, stands a woman who controls the stall: collecting the money, issuing the orders. Sitting I have mixed brochettes, beetroot, eggplant, fries plus the tasty orange juice. Who would choose sodas over this? An idyllic meal costing less than $5 with a ceiling of sparkling stars. Who could ask for more?
Don’t Sail Past Junk
Its raining in Kuching. It hasn’t stopped raining since I arrived four days ago; I’m wet, very wet. I travel light and now nearly every item of clothing I have is also wet. I need cheering up; I need slow cooked lamb shank with real mashed potato and crunchy vegetables served with a glass or three of decent Merlot – I need Junk.
Now please don’t get me wrong I am a big fan of fried mee served on a plastic plate, bright red chopsticks artfully wrapped in a thin paper napkin, but tonight I would like to stay dry, I would like to sit in comfort and relax and I am prepared to blow the rest of this week’s budget on a great meal. {Not that Junk is expensive but it is going to cost a bit more than your average hawkers stall.}
Junk’s interior is enough to hold your attention, its decor a jumble of eclectic pieces – clocks that look like they once graced a platform at Kings Cross to native Sarawak artefacts. Each step of the rickety stairs boasts a gothic style candle with years of molten wax flowing down in a gentle waterfall. The building itself, with its carved wooden shutters and uneven floorboards adds its own unique atmosphere.
I peruse the menu for a while but stick to my plan and choose the lamb, after much deliberation my dining partner opts for a chicken salad {you can take a girl out of London but you can’t stop her worrying about her weight} The food arrives, huge platters laden with delicious smelling fare, even the salad smells good – how do they do that?
And it is good. The lamb falls indulgently from the bone onto the creamy mash {just like mama used to make – yum} and the salad is an infusion of Asian flavours with a satisfying chilli kick to finish. A couple of bottles of Merlot help to ease the evening along.
I had skilfully dodged downpours and sacrificed my only dry clothes to go to Junk and it was well worth it. I happily splashed back to my hostel through ankle deep puddles relaxed, very full and just a little tipsy.
Inked and in the pink
Melbourne’s famous Chapel Street spans the suburbs and genres, from chi-chi South Yarra to gay mecca Prahran all the way to the designer grunge, thrift stores and new gourmet of Windsor, which is exactly and aptly where you’ll find Orange Cafe.
Saddle up at this stylishly worn enclave and as you watch the GQ-with a-wasted-elegance waiters serve washed up rock stars their coffee and all-day breakfast, you’ll begin to hook into the Windsor groove: the hopeful new alongside the used and elegantly shabby. Grab an on-street table and a Bloody Mary if you’re paparazzi-ready, or ditch the paps in favour of a classic soul soundtrack, a cozy indoor nook and the fixed-price lunch. Dishes rock a modern Italian bent, keeping it light on the palate, and the waiters have a sixth sense for recommending the best accompanying drinks.
Tattoos are obligatory in this area – in fact there’s probably more clingwrap swathing the tender new inkings of the outdoor patrons than there is on the food in the warp-speed kitchen that has been nourishing the locals for a number of years now. Still mostly free of multinational chain stores, Windsor’s identity is as idiosyncratically marked out as the arms of the lunching Bon Scott wannabe drinking his Sav Blanc outside Orange.
Skip the Pats/Genos debate. Head for a real winner at Jims!
While Jim’s doesn’t have a place in the city’s famous debate, what it does have is our best cheesesteak. Quintessentially Philly, from the line cooks barking orders to the no-nonsense cashiers, this is the place to go to enjoy a real meal. While it’s bigger than its competitors, it doesn’t just offer more cheesesteak for your money, but it is also the leanest and tastiest to boot. Not that it’s a healthy meal – if you’re counting calories Jims (or Philadelphia) isn’t the place for you. Order like a local by telling the cook you’ll take it “Wiz wit” and you’ll be rewarded with drippy, melted cheese wiz and onions. While you’re waiting in the infamous, yet fast-moving line, check out the wall full of photos and autographs from celebrities who found their way to this South Street hangout. So when you get asked who has the better cheesesteak, show your insider knowledge of Philadelphia and let them know you’re a Jim’s fan.
Second City Ranks #1 for Chocolate Lovers
The desserts are to-die-for. The dinner is perfection. And the hot chocolate? Well, let’s just say, if you’re looking to indulge any cocoa cravings, this is the place to go.
Nestled between up-scale boutiques and hipster-filled watering holes, Hot Chocolate is a welcoming, dessert-filled oasis in the middle of one of Chicago’s most popular neighborhoods. Dim lighting, a simple, clean interior and an open kitchen (where you can actually watch Hot Chocolate’s decadent dishes get assembled) give the place a contemporary vibe. The dinner and brunch menus are to-die-for – local and seasonal ingredients fill the plates at this Bucktown hotspot. The pork loin is picture perfect, framed with homemade sauerkraut, Honey Crisp apples and Brussels sprouts all doused in a delectable mustard grain jus.
Of course, with a moniker like Hot Chocolate leaving room for dessert is a must. Hot Chocolate’s owner Mindy Segal is single-handedly trying to destroy the already ample physique of the Chicago diner. Sipping (ok, maybe gulping) Segal’s Affogato hot chocolate is probably the best way to spend a Friday night, or any night for that matter. With a generous scoop of coffee cocoa nib ice cream that’s drenched in two different kinds of rich, warm chocolate and topped off with a house made marshmallow, the Affogato will take care of those chocolate cravings for days to come. But if chocolate isn’t what you’re yearning for, Hot Chocolate’s warm brioche donuts are equally delicious. Before putting your taste buds to rest, cap things off with one of Hot Chocolate’s signature (and oh-so yummy) cocktails.
Anemic, but in a good way!
Even if the food wasn’t awesome—which it is—it would be worth it to visit the Naam just for the interaction with the waitstaff.
Think hippie throwbacks with new millennium dreads.
Think facial piercings and blank eyes.
Think milk-pale skin, and weed-slow motion.We ordered some water and a bottle of house white. I scanned the menu
and asked our waiter’s opinion.
“So, what’s good here?”
Pause.
Glance at dining companions.
Pause.
It’s like you could see he was searching for some remaining dregs of energy
to fuel his response.
“Well…the sesame fries…they’re really good.”
“Is there a dipping sauce?”
Pause.
Blink.
“Okay, I need you to reach down through your cellular levels and marshal the mitochondria…do the fries come with a dipping sauce?”
“We have…a miso gravy.”
Time passed. The earth cooled. “The miso gravy…is really good…it’s
really famous.”It took us well over 5 minutes to order, and then our poor pale waiter
shuffled off. I’ve seen more alacrity in a palliative care home, but I
unwound and shifted nicely into the Naam’s laidback vibe.The food at the Naam is Full-On Vegetarian, but they somehow managed to keep all the taste, and the portions—unlike the waitstaff, God bless them—
aren’t anemic. Even non-vegetarians will love the food here. The waiter was right, the sesame fries with miso gravy totally rocked. The chapatis are a meal unto themselves, stuffed with cheese and guacamole, cucumber and tomatos and beets and sprouts. And even the butchest of he-men can order a Dragon Bowl—a big bowl of brown rice with carrots and beets and chilis and curry sauce—without worrying their manhood might be put on trial…
Soups are likewise fabulous, and if you can resist the urge to slip the waiter a PowerBar, the Naam is a definite thumbs-up!
Saves life, leaves change for booze
It’s 2pm. I just woke up. I can’t find a clean plate. I can hardly find a dirty plate, there are so many cockroaches in this place. The heat hurts. It hurts. What is this country thinking, selling me vodka and tonic for less than a dollar?
I hate you, Phnom Penh.
Call Chi Cha. Order a vegetarian thali. Stumble outside just long enough to find my favourite motodop. Pack him up with cash and send him to get my food. Get back inside. The sun hurts!
Lie very still. Lie very still a little bit longer. Lie so still I find out I’m asleep when I get woken up by the motodop at the door.
Oh, magical yellow goo in plastic bags! Ah, the wonder of egg curry, of dahl, of rice! Sweet balm of soul! Did this really cost me less than five dollars?
I love you, Phnom Penh.
A vegetarian finds heaven just off of Khao San Rd
Regain your inner voice and sanity at May Kaidee. Stumble over the stalls of western t-shirts and young thai ” women” advertising cheap drinks and follow Khao San road til you hit Burger King. It’s official Starbucks, McDonalds, and Burger King have descended and become stake holders in the gritty real estate that young soul searchers call Khao San Rd. Follow “vegetarian ally” behind The King, pass the young thai smokers at the pool hall, and you will find May Kaidee serving up thai favorites as if Bangkok had not aged a day from the 25 years earlier that she first opened the joint.
Coconuts, Green Curry, Pad Thai, Oh My!! Every dish is delicate, packs a powerful spicy punch, and is all veggie. All the lovely older Thai women speak english well and don’t bat an eye upon a request for chopsticks. Locals pedal by, sawa-dee- ka, chit chat, and go on their way. Best of all, May teaches very a informative cooking class in the morning with the first stop of the day at the local market to pick out spices, such as chillies, lemongrass, and galanga. All in all, you learn about 10 dishes in a half day course, if you don’t pass out from food coma beforehand from the gastro-feast.
On special nights once a month, May will hold a thai buffet where you can sample all the delights and finish off the night mesmerized by the grace and beauty of traditional thai dancers.
Does Magneto play cricket and eat pasta?
Who is the X-Men’s nemesis? What country was invaded by the U.S. in 1991? What sport does Shane Warne play? Magneto, Iraq, and apparently Shane Warne is a great Australian cricketer and one of the game’s finest bowlers. We did not know this last answer, not being Australian. Or cricketers. Or having the faintest clue as to what a bowler was.
But we came in third in Verve’s weekly trivia night anyways, so felt pretty good about ourselves, a fact that was helped considerably by the bartender continuing to give us the Early Bird/Happy Hour wine special long after that promotion should have ended…
Verve’s basement location and raucous trivia-night atmosphere originally made us feel like we were at a university pub night, but then the food arrived, and it was definitely not simple pie ‘n sauce or potato wedges.
Our starter was pita and toasted breads with an array of dips: tapenade, artichoke and sun-dried tomatos, hummus. Service was a bit slow, but with the dips and wine and trivia contest, it was a pleasant hour until the mains came.
Pasta special that day was a pumpkin gnocchi that made us see, or at least glimpse God. And my girlfriend—who generally eats lower on the food chain than I do—ended up eating half of my veal marsala.
All-in-all, great food and a very entertaining place to go. Just be up on your spin bowlers.
Divine Velho Macedo some day I’ll be back!
O Velho Macedo how great thou art!
I savour your dishes from so far apart!
Your memory lingers and it has been three years
Since I climbed up the steep hill almost got lost in the maze
Of porticos, closed shops on a deserted street
Yet find you we did and sat in your glow
Under classic collections of bottles galore
The service was perfect the taste so divine
O Velho Macedo I dream of your wine
Vinho verde and peixe and olives with parsley
Cerveja and molhos and garlicky scents
You were more than we thought
You were the best of them all
Keep it up ’cause one day I’ll come back
For some more!
Burgers to die for!
It’s day one of Songkran, the Thai festival celebrating the lunar New Year. The streets of Chiang Mai are a waterlogged battleground, jammed with super-soaker toting teens, mobs of bucket-laden children, and flatbed trucks armed with overflowing tubs for industrial level drenching. It’s the world’s biggest water fight, and you know you can’t step outside without getting drenched to the bone. Of course, you could hide in your room and stave off hunger with hoarded Snickers bars. But who are we kidding? Mike’s Burgers is just down the street.
You battle your way across the moat, and by the time you plop down on Mike’s sidewalk stools, you can wring the water out of shirt. But there’s a patty with your name on it sizzling away on the grill in front of you, and within minutes you’re sinking your teeth into the best burger you’ve tasted outside the States. The staff is friendly, the root beer is cold, the fries are piping hot and the ketchup is real (an important factor – many Thais are fundamentally confused on the topic of ketchup). Who cares that you’re getting buckets of water sloshed down the back of your neck? This is all-American food heaven. You’ll come back tomorrow, and the day after that, water gun in hand, to find that the hot dogs and Philly cheese steaks are every bit as finger-licking good.
You could feel guilty for gorging yourself on American food in a country with such incredible local cuisine. But don’t. Indulge! You’ll thank yourself when you’re still on the road three months later and you’d kill for some decent ketchup.
The Night Ends Here
Trapped in the city’s golden triangle of malls, bars, restaurants and tall buildings of sorts, is an outdoor “parking lot” that bustles with heated talk and warm, mouth-watering aromas of grilled seafood and fried noodles. It’s 3am and everyone has left the party to partake in a compulsary KL tradition – late night supper to oil down all that booze and re-energize from all that dancing – and a bunch of them will go to Wong Ah Wah.
It’s not exactly a spot-on hygienic outlet or the most comfortable of settings, but this roadside food attraction happens to play a great sneak peek to the city’s mixture of modern night-crawlers – ranging from yuppies, fashionistas, media employees, underpaid blue-collars, students, and even the indie music scene. And almost all will agree to the restaurant’s must-have best sellers – on a big table you will see juicy chicken wings, butter prawns, BBQ pork noodle (Siu Yuk Mee), spicy balitong (chili shellfish) and, if one is feeling adventurous – grilled frog legs.
In fact, this “eating plot” is always on the checklist of unofficial tourguides for their tourists-friends, including visiting bands on tour! Whether you’re in t-shirt-and-shorts or cocktail-dress-and-heels or shirt-and-jeans, this outdoor venue is like many of Kuala Lumpur’s old school roadside classics: no frills service, all backgrounds welcomed, lively atmosphere, affordable yummy food, and despite the missing air-conditioner and lack of decor – greatly fulfilling.
Dirt-stained walls and shiny cars
Think open-faced rooms with once-white, now almost graffiti-like- dirt-stained walls that make you sick by looking at them, illuminated by blinding neon tubes, people on chairs and plastic plates on tables jammed inside with no spare square foot left and above all the suffocating heat that makes you think the power wasted for those effortlessy rotating fans could aswell have been saved.
Now take at a look at the people’s faces and notice that instead of suffocating or fainting they seem to be having the time (or at least the meal) of their lives. Yes, the food it is that delights each and everyone of them, the bus conductor, the family-with-two-children and the young urban advertising professional, the vegetarian and the non-vegetarian.
Give it a chance and trust the gaggle of Mumbaites who come here to satisfy their late night munchies. The food is freshly prepared in a street stall, the indoor-premises have been hired to accommodate at least some of the innumerable guests. If you don’t fancy to sit in there with the crowds just stay outside and find yourself amongst the upper class youngsters who simply lay out their plates on the hoods of their shiny luxury cars celebrating their midnight feast.
Vientiane’s Buddha Bar
I’ll never forget my first time here – a late night spent reclining on Full Moon’s colourful throw pillows, sipping fresh Beer Lao, sharing Indian bidis and talking about Mayan mythology with a fascinating expat. Stepped outside and wouldn’t you know it, a full moon was hanging in the sky.
The Full Moon Cafe is not a budget stop, but it’s a great backpacker’s splurge – when you’re ready to duck out of the dust and heat you’ll find a little travelers’ haven, complete with melodious electronica, funky-cool decor and a menu that is like an eastern translation of western comfort food. A particular standout: lightly panko-style battered fish and chips, a welcome taste of home after months on the road.
Best of all – draught Beer Lao available in pitchers as well as great cocktails, offered two for one during happy hour!
Africa in Italy in Germany in Africa
Swakopmund is widely regarded as one of Africa’s premier adrenalin centres. So what does one contemplate after flying down a sand dune at 60kph on nothing but a bit of plywood, or throwing oneself out of a plane at 10,000 ft? Maybe the brevity of existence? Perhaps man’s continual need to challenge the body and mind?
In my case it was food.
Specifically: ‘Where can I get a steak?’ The answer in Swakopmund is pretty much anywhere. My fellow adrenalin monkeys and myself ended up in Napolitana, a stone’s throw from the busy and popular Swakop Lodge hostel.
Napolitana is typically African in its contradictions; an Italian restaurant in a German town in the Namib desert. This reasonably priced establishment makes up for its middle of the raod appearance with big smiles, big open spaces, and even bigger portions. The garlic bread could reasonably be described as a loaf, the burger requires a full rotation of the plate for inspection, all the standards of a non-Italian, Italian restaurant were present and correct.
But the real treat is the game meat. I had a giant 12oz Oryx steak with chips, perfectly cooked – one of the few places where medium rare actually means medium rare – and extremely tasty. At the halfway point I was regretting the same garlic mushrooms I had been lauding over only a short while before. Needless to say there was no need for dessert but washing the steak down with a cheap but refreshing rose from neighbouring South Africa is a perfect and affordable accompaniment.
There is a fun, lively feel to Napolitana. The staff are friendly, the specials varied. Nothing feels too serious until you taste the food and realise that like Swakopmund, and in turn Africa itself, appearances can be deceptive.
Indulge in the grand cuisine of Bangalore
If you are have not been invited for a wedding in Bangalore to see the spread and taste the diverse flavours, never mind – step into MTR! make sure to starve yourself from the night before and be prompt by landing up by 12:30! the food is served and it keeps coming and it keeps getting better…just when you think you are going to burst…another surprise follows! an age old place with a high reputation for quality, hygene and tradition. MTR is an international brand now with its packaged foods available all over…if you need to digest the food (whish for sure you will need to) take a walk in Lalbagh Gardens – you will surely remember the moment forever
You don’t have to be mad to eat here, but it helps…..
You need to be ever so slightly mad to eat here, and judging by the queues every day then most of Plymouth must be bonkers.
This is not your normal eaterie. For one it’s a glorified shed, decorated in a very eclectic style of shipwreck and nostalgia. There are no toilets, no where indoors to sit and eat, they only serve burgers, hotdogs, and giant baguettes. If you’re lucky you can get a bench outside, next to the rubbish bins and the scavenging seagulls, where if the wind is in the right direction you can eat to the accompanying smell of the fishing industry taking place right next to you.
Yet despite all this I can’t get enough of the place and I’m not alone!
I obviously have a severe death wish as these burgers are a heart attack in a bun just waiting to wrap their greasy claws around my arteries, but they are so delicious, you just have to do it.
Don’t go expecting anything fancy, napkins (an absolute necessity here) are in the form of torn off kitchen roll suspended on a string above the counter, mugs of tea are sloshed at you over the counter and the service amounts to being handed a raffle ticket and told to wait for your number to be called! But if you’re looking for lime milkshake together with bacon, pineapple, cheese and curried coleslaw burgers, this is the place to come. Show me any pregnant woman that wouldn’t kill to visit here.
More normal fayre is of course on the menu and it’s all very reasonably priced and well cooked. As long as you’re not expecting chips, side salads or a glass or ice for your drinks go with the flow, relax and enjoy a totally english experience.
A toast to bread!
Traditional Georgian meals have 14 customary toasts to lighten the hearts of those who have come to the feast. The experience of dining at Hotel Kopala will give you many reasons to raise your glass! Most apparent at the time will be the divine drink itself. Georgian wine is classified as some of the best in the world and it is plentiful at Kopala. The accompanying lamb and beef dishes are something to savor in between toasts, but I get serious about the bread! They serve Katchapuri, a round, flat cheesy bread that will motivate even the most timid patron to eagerly offer up a toast! Or maybe the effects of the previous 9 toasts have erased all timidity! Should someone in your team be particularly daft, they can also join in with a toast to the spectacular view overlooking Old Town, Tbilisi. The charming view during daylight or romantic moonlight will not be forgotten and the photo opportunities from this perch are enviable. I raise my glass to Kopala!
Tasty borek, welcoming hosts, impromptu Turkish music!
We only stopped in at Nazar Borek when we were weary and cold after an afternoon walk in the snow and hoped a quick tea would warm frozen fingers and lift spirits. What a golden discovery! We emerged five hours later and it was much more than refuge from the cold that caused us to stay well into the night.
Nazar Borek is a delightfully cosy restaurant serving basic, tasty food with such genuine hospitality that you feel you are in a friend’s home. The menu is simple and inexpensive consisting mostly of borek and gozleme, savoury and sweet. Portions are generous with savoury items accompanied by a deliciously fresh salad or yoghurt and tomato sauces. Efes beer is available and the lovely Cappadocian wines can be served on request.
Your hosts are born and bred locals who can tell you a thing or two about changes in Goreme over the years (“we are original caveman”) and clearly enjoy receiving visitors and sharing their love of Cappadocia. You suspect they always have a good time and sincerely want their patrons to enjoy themselves too. At one stage a saz (lute) was produced from nowhere and drums passed around as we were treated to some folk music. Before we knew it belly dancing belts also appeared and most of the 12 patrons were dancing! Participation was encouraged but not forced.
The warmth of our hosts, homely environment and seemingly spontaneous burst of live music and dance lent more authenticity to our evening than I ever imagined finding in such a backpacker haven as Goreme.
A cup of Military Orchids in ex-Yugoslav Army House
A time warp. An erstwhile Army House. Phantasms of military masculinity. Cranky post-communist bohemians bickering about iniquitous capitalism. An ideal setting for a soothing cup of salep made from the tubers of Orchis militaris and hot milk. Aphrodisiac, they insisted.
Authentic Mexican Food, Tepid Service
On a recent uncharacteristically cool and blustery day in Dubai we pulled up a seat on the terrace of Maria Bonita’s in anticipation of some authentic Mexican comfort food. With the Mexican flag flapping overhead in the breeze and the whiff of sea air coming off the beach just a block away, it certainly felt like we were dining in a little corner of one of Mexico’s tropical resorts. After receiving our menu (we had to track someone down as they didn’t seem to notice us), we were promptly served with a basket of on-the-house taco chips and two bowls of salsa. Being chilli lovers, we promptly went for the spicy one, and it didn’t disappoint. In seconds, we had gone from shivering in the cool air to beads of sweat on the forehead and impatiently waiting for the strawberry marguerita we had ordered. In the meantime, we cooled our mouths down with the mild salsa, which had a distinctively home-made rich tomatoey flavour.
For our main dish, we ordered Tacos de Maya, the house specialty. The tacos were enveloped in soft flour tortillas made in-house, and the filling, although a little oily, was full smoky, earthy flavours reminiscent of wood-fired stoves in cooking huts along La Ruta Maya. These were definitely not your average fast-food tacos served up at the mall food fair. A nice, light Mexican rice pilaf, a dollop of uninspiring baked beans, and a very fresh pico de gallo rounded out the meal. By this time we were too full for desert and as the service, while adequate, was certainly not inviting (we hadn’t seen a smile yet), we decided to pack up and head to the coffee bar next door to while away the afternoon.
Overall, an authentic, reasonably priced Mexican dining experience not easily found in this part of the world.
