marcky.my [That Thing I Do]

Ever since I knew better, I held a certain disdain towards the way we blanket certain types of food with the generic categorization of “western food”. I consider it blantant ignorance and lack of appreciation towards all cuisines that we consider foreign. Enter Amadeus, a European-themed bistro and wine bar that brings a variety of “western cuisine” together in a single menu, while respecting the origin of each with such references in the menu to indicate where each dish originally comes from. This respect also apparently carries through their preparation of food, as I would discover in my maiden experience at Amadeus, through a group-buy opportunity.

To start, we shared between us a Spring River’s duck terrine, and Gustav’s cured Norwegian salmon.

The warm duck breast terrine, in essence, is duck ham with pistachios. While unexciting (as ham usually tends to be), it was a pleasant dish with with balsamic sauce.

It’s so easy to mess up anything made with salmon, but Amadeus did the fish justice, curing it wonderfully in a concoction of Russian Vodka and citrus, then rolling it in dill cream cheese stuffing, and serving it with wild sprout salad with (presumably the same) citrus-Vodka sauce. Oh, Gustav, what wonderful salmon you make! The salmon tasted fresh and had just the right balance of firmness versus softness.

Also flawlessly executed, were our Highlander’s wild portabella soup and Manhattan seafood chowder.

Dubbed “Zoran’s spare rib goulash”, chunky prime beef spare rib, slowly braised in rich tomato and onion broth was my main of choice. Served in a garlic baguette, accompanied with pasta, cauliflower and coarse mash, the flavours were lovely with plenty of natural sweetness from the slow-cooked onions and tomatoes. It’s a real shame, though, that the meat was extremely chewy and was not fall-off-the-bone-tender as it is claimed to be. Zoran dropped the ball on this one.

Carlos’s Secret lamb racks, on the other hand, was marvelously tender. I am inclined to think Carlos sabotaged Zoran in the kitchen. Served with the same coarse mashed potato that absorbs gravy greedily, this dish hit the spot with us. Predictable in its flavours, Carlos deserved plenty of praise though no standing ovation.

It would seem strange to come to a wine bar for dinner and not have any wine; the house pouring was good enough to complement our red meats and fussy palates.

Indeed, you rocked me, Amadeus.

Sometimes, I daydream about walking down the street in France and just walking into an unassuming little French bistro, taking in the air of freshly baked bread, and sitting down to have myself a simple French meal cooked to perfection and enjoying the warm hospitality of the locals; and I’d like to think I’m not the only one who dreams such romantic dreams.

One fine evening, I found myself doing just that; except instead of France, it was Bangsar. The unassuming little French bistro goes by the name of Yeast; Frenchmen and scents of freshly-baked bread included.

Sweet pea veloute with smoked duck, RM12++

I couldn’t resist ordering the soup of the day that evening; and I’m still not sure if it was because it was sweet pea veloute with smoked duck, or if it was because I could practice saying “soup du jour” to a stereotypically droopy-eyed French server. It proved to be a great decision. The veloute was silky smooth without being creamy, rich in natural sweetness and a subtle tickle of saltiness from the duck, which lay quietly at the bottom of the bowl. Well-executed, and plenty to share between the two of us, we thought it great value for money at 12 bucks.

Bouef bourguignon, RM48++

At first sight, the bouef bourguignon didn’t seemed very overpriced; and since we were sharing this between the two of us, it did not seem like it would satisfy. Our initial impression faded with every bite of this immaculately-executed dish. I don’t think there is any way this could have been done better! The silken mash of root vegetables was so light yet rich and filling, with a light cheesy taste to it. I could hardly believe the best mash I ever had isn’t even made with potatoes, but healthy root vegetables! Braised in red wine, the beef submissively gave way to gentle pokes of our forks, so tender and soft that I could hardly withold my audible disbelief. Two juicy, caramelized shallots accompanied the beef, brilliantly sweet; disappointing only in the fact that there were only two of them, though I would think such scarcity was purposeful in achieving a balance that only the French could. Texturally contrasting fried onions lent a mild sweetness and saltiness to the dish, without being greasy or intrusive. The rich flavours and perfect execution left us feeling very satisfied despite sharing the small portion between two; and we even felt the price tag was commensurate with its quality.

They say French food is very expensive. They say good meals are always too heavy. They say good food is rich in fat and carbs. I say leave it to the French to prove us wrong.

Curry laksa has always held a special place in my heart as a simple and inexpensive comfort food. Sadly, the years had seen us drift silently apart, rarely to reacquaint and reminisce over bygone years.

I remember way back in my early school days, when I was first introduced to her; she was hot and her smell turned many heads. Her simplicity defined her beauty: curry, noodles, a few beans sprouts, and perhaps a piece of fish cake. At school canteen prices averaging 50 sen a bowl, she was pretty cheap.

Our distance began to grow after my primary school days, and though our contact has since been sparse and brief, I found her again in Restoran Shang Ji (149, Jalan Lumba Kuda, 80300 Johor Bahru; near CIQ complex). The meeting was out of pure chance, as we were in the area for some other breakfast. I could not resist a second breakfast (who could?).

The hot bowl of curry had the perfect Goldilocks balance of spicy, coconutty, and sweet; with fresh ingredients of fried fish balls, fu chuk, and tofu. Beauty in simplicity never sounds remarkable, but a taste reveals her splendour. Fresh, moist tofu soaks up curry like a warm morning hug, leaving the same fuzzy feeling as I lapped it up with generous scoops of curry. Fried fish balls left no hint of coming right out of the freezer – fresh and springy.

Another lovely breakfast option to add to the list that I break out before every trip to JB. Though I’m sure the list will keep growing, I have no doubt that curry laksa will always have a special place in my list, in my heart, and in my stomach.