The Hunt for Roti Canai

*A good local friend of mine, Tom, detoured to KL one sunny weekend from his Thai holiday. This is him guest blogging about his adventures. -Jules

On an emotionally tumultuous day eleven years ago a skinny, bespectacled boy took off his school uniform for the last time. To this day the grey tie lies forgotten in a dusty corner, the shirts and trousers packed away never to see the light of day. It was the day I left Kolej Tuanku Ja’afar and Malaysia in 2000.

For those of you who haven’t heard of it, KTJ is a respected boarding school in the middle of a jungle. It is surrounded by a fence, patrolled by guards. One of the strongest memories from my time there was this dark grey haze clouding the school for a week after a local pig farmer was forced to incinerate all his stock. Swine flu was rampant in the area during the time and drastic measures had to be taken to contain it. The cloud and the school as well as every tutor, teacher and pupil in it smelled like bacon for a week.

Apart from the cockroach-infested boarding houses, drills, detentions, rules prohibiting public displays of affection, and lasting friendships formed under the Proctor’s punishing gaze, KTJ had something else to offer. Namely food. Nothing quite compares to learning about the cuisine of a country than the meals served at schools. At KTJ they were good, away from the school, even better. Let it be settled once and for all then: Malaysian food is the best in the world. The best of the best – the uncrowned emperor of all the dishes in the world – being roti canai. This particular dish was also the reason for my return.

Okay, fine. Not even the most hardcore foodie would travel to the other side of the world for just one dish (unless it was this). Served with chicken, fish or lamb curry, roti canai is more buttery than a gang of greasers. It’s also the dish I’ve been dreaming about for the last eleven years. So, off to Kuala Lumpur I flew.

Good thing I knew a few people from there.

Friday. As I arrived at the Low Cost Carrier Terminal near Kuala Lumpur International Airport I was already starving. Not stopping to waste my taste buds at the airport cafeterias, I hopped into a taxi giving the directions to KTJ. Arriving at the school gates was an eye-opener. Were the gates really so low? Where was the barb-wire from the fences? Why were the guards so amicable? Waiting at the foyer near the teachers’ common room was my old Drama teacher. Him leading the way, I was taken to be the assistant teacher during a drama class where the kids were only beginning to learn English. Nothing had prepared me to be reminded of how much I enjoy acting. Not to mention being part of that class and helping the kids out. I enjoyed it so much I forgot how hungry I was. To rectify this horrendous oversight, I made my way to the Tuck Shop, the small kiosk selling snacks. Here it was that I had my first authentic Malaysian meal after eleven years: chicken rice with sambal (a chilli based sauce) and a can of coke. Though not a religious man by any definition, it was still an epiphany.

The very same evening I had another revelation. An old friend from the KTJ days took me out that night. After much back clapping, hugs and whoops of glee, I was taken to the Sultan Lounge at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Just as a 5-star hotel should, the lounge was impeccable and packed with beautiful things as far as the eye could see. Bottles of Möet & Chandon resting on their icy beds, a Cohiba Esplendidos enhancing the chilled out smoky atmosphere, it was hard not to like the place.

One of the first things on the drink menu for that night was an introduction to a local drink. Whisky with green tea and soda. I lost count of the times we had the following conversation:

Friend: “You don’t have to drink it, if you don’t like it.”

Me: “Don’t worry about it, I like whisky and this sounds too interesting not to try.”

Friend: “Yeah, but really, if you don’t like it…”

This went on for a while until the bottle of Johnnie Walker Green Label (really, what else was it going to be?) and the necessary complements arrived.

Sip.

Me: “Dude. This is the only thing I’ll be drinking from now on.”

And during my time in KL, it was, as evidenced by the following night.

Great night, but no canai.

Saturday. Beef rendang for breakfast. Heaven. Fast forward to the evening and a Chinese place on Jalan Alor near the Changkat area. The smell of durians wafted on the streets as we passed them on our way from Bukit Bintang. Although wafted may not be as accurate of a description as it being more like being hit in the face with a two-by-four. If you’ve ever smelled durian, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, then there’s one more thing to add to your bucket list.

Having free rein, my friend ordered all the good stuff. Stingray with some sambal and fresh lime, a Chinese omelette with oysters, and some mussels spiced with garlic. I was in heaven for the second time that day.

Julia, the wonderful hostess of this post had kindly provided me with Tim the Tomcat’s number, and Saturday night was my great pleasure to be taken out to Zouk.

Tim: “The only thing I wanna know is where you wanna go, and what you’re drinking.”

Me: “It’s your home, so anywhere. And whisky and green tea.”

Tim: “Done.”

Great guy. Entering Phuture, the R&B club at Zouk, I fell in love with KL just a little bit more.

Another great night, but still no canai.

Sunday. Always a chilled out day. At Nirwana’s in Bangsar, having breakfast off a banana leaf, it truly was. Some rice, chicken curry sauce, fried chicken and bitter gourd washed down with iced red tea. Cured the remnants of a hangover without any problems. Then it was time for me to mosey on over to the bus station and head off to the airport. With a belly full of all the good stuff, it was not hard to appreciate the trip.

And the canai? Never had it. Tried to hunt down a place on Sunday, but for some reason all the restaurants only served it in the morning and later at night.

I finally did find a Malaysian restaurant in Helsinki. Their canai was delicious. But not the same.

Looks like I need to go back.