Part 1: CeritAku, No Black Tie
Finally made it to ‘Readings’ at No Black Tie, after missing it in August ’07. The line-up for the year’s finalé was: Jerome Kugan, Amir Muhammad, Dain Said, (Bernice Chauly–a bit too brief to qualify), Pang, Jac SM Kee, Shanon Shah. I didn’t like my watered-down sangria but the readings were sufficiently engaging/entertaining. As a (copy)writer, I realised that listening to people read brings about a different appreciation of a text than if you’d read it as you normally do–silently. I think this is somewhat related to why I suck at writing scripts.
(Speaking of readings, you must, must check out Neil Gaiman’s readings of his latest children’s book, ‘The Graveyard’. Go listen to it here for free.)
Part 2: The Great Chicken Wing Hunt, Jalan Alor
Work on a recent campaign had forced me to do some research on ‘exciting’ places in KL. That included the ‘exciting’ Jalan Alor, which led to the discovery–in theory–of Wong Ah Wah’s famous chicken wings. Since we were in the vicinity, we decided to grab a rare bite at Jalan Alor so that I could track down these gloriously reviewed birds.
We walked up Jalan Alor but didn’t see any stall selling chicken wings, except at the end where there were a few. Their generic names (BBQ Chicken Wings) conspired to confuse me. Which was the famous Wong Ah Fook wings?! (I was so confused I also got the name wrong). One seemed busier than the other and the tables were red, so being Chinese, we sat there and ordered 6 wings.
After a long wait, only 2 arrived. The skin on the wings was taut and well marinated, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. I closed my eyes and tentatively sunk my teeth into the first, waiting for the world to intertwine with the escaping steam, swirling and twirling into roller-coaster colour; my tastebuds hitting the gastronomic G-spot courtesy of the world’s best chicken wings.
“So, how’s it?” a voice broke my drawn-out anticipation.
I opened my eyes.
“Okay lah,” I replied, scrutinising the half-chomped wing before me. It was okay with a nice texture, but nothing in the league of extraordinary. In the periphery, the second chicken wing stall taunted me. Could that be…?
We finished the wings and moved on to the next stall. Poofie ordered 4 wings. I crossed my fingers as she chatted with the restaurant lady.
“Is this stall called Wong Ah Fook?” she asked in Chinese.
“Two watermelon juice?” the lady repeated.
“No, no. Is this stall called Wong Ah Fook?”
“Oh, you’re looking for Wong Ah… Fook? Hmm, I think it’s down the road,” she said. “You didn’t see the stall? Maybe it’s closed… But you know, all these chicken wings are really the same…”
My heart sank. More ‘wrong’ chicken wings would have to be consumed in this crazy quest–and it was already 1a.m.. The birds arrived and they were larger than the previous stall’s. Poofie liked these best.
Stomach in overdrive, we walked down the road back to where we came from, reading signboard after signboard. Suddenly, at the very end of the road, was Wong Ah Wah’s famous spring chicken wings stall. It was open! My brains and stomach started a whining match.
“Dammit, I’m going to order some!” I said, and did. Poofie rolled her eyes. Whutevar…
( [o }===:::
(If you’re wondering, yeah, they were quite good… greasy, succulent, flavourful. They also tasted like chicken.)