The sign on the entrance read "Eat all you can. Leave nothing on your plate". One could be forgiven for thinking that this was nothing more than a well-meaning but grammatically-challenged Malaysian Hot Pot BBQ restaurant encouraging its patrons to indulge at the buffet. That would only be possible before reading the warning: "3 RM for every 100g of cooked food left on your plate".
The waiter poured two tall plastic cups of cold jasmine tea. It was drinkable when we suspended our taste buds by not breathing while we were drinking. The Hot Pot consisted of an old electric fry pan with a silver bowl full of water perched in the middle. "Self service. OK?" our waiter said. "OK" we nodded. It turned out that it was not OK. An hour later, we had been spat on by an angry frypan, scalded ourselves with steaming water, eaten raw corn and concocted a soup that simultaneously managed to be too spicy and utterly tasteless. And during all this time, the threat of uneaten cooked food loomed over us. We wondered whether we would get charged for the undrunken broth as well.
The restaurant wasn't all bad. It was family-friendly. "Children under four foot eat for half price. Children under three foot eat for free." Maybe we could palm off our inedible soup to someone's kids if they were immune from the penalty rates. It was so draconian, we thought. Surely even attempting to eat our inedible dinner was punishment enough. In the end, we took a deep breath, calculated that the extent of our penalty would be 9 RM (A$3) - assuming the broth was included in the measuring - and paid the bill. The waitress never charged us the extra 9 RM.
We walked into a waft of donuts. That would fill a hole, we agreed. The sign at the donut shop said "Self-service". But the only way you could serve yourself would be to hurdle the counter and the perspex display case and push the plump pimple-faced Malaysian girl out of the way. And she looked like she took her job seriously. There were too many varieties to choose from, but a quick decision was required because the girl was recommending a pink-glazed one. I chose "Chococino". So did Reecey. While the girl rang up our purchases, a sign on the counter informed us to "Please choose your donut carefully as no exchange or refund will be given." We had never thought an exchange or refund of donut could be necessary, but that was until we tried "Chococino". The icing was cooking chocolate with the consistency of a runny egg. Somewhere hidden in the middle of the donut was a chunk of coffee in whipped cream. We now know why donuts should have holes in the middle. It's so that you can eat a whole one without wanting to gag.
Wandering home, we concluded that our evening's culinary experience was all very confusing. Even the storekeepers seem confused. One proudly proclaimed: "Home recipes. Serve no pork". It may have even been the name of the restaurant. It's neighbour had no such ethical qualms: "Fresh grilled pork. Be tantilised."
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