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51 That fact is worth mentioning because a lot of the restau- rants in the city serve food that is a mix of styles. A good example is Pelita Nasi Kandar, a vast open-air restaurant downtown, just down the street from the Petronas Towers. When we arrived, there was a line of a dozen or so people waiting to get a plate of “nasi” (Malaysian for rice — the word precedes many dishes here) and a few of the many sauces, curries and sides on offer. Eating there reminded me of eating at the Piccadilly Cafeteria when I was a boy — you could choose a meat, two sides and a bread, pretty much the same deal as at Pelita Nasi Kandar. Standing in line I noticed that the people before me were ordering their rice with “mixed sauce.” The server would take his ladle and dip out a little sauce from five or six of the dif- ferent curries, splashing each dip onto the mound of white rice on the plate. Needless to say, we also ordered mixed sauce, along with “honey chicken,” mutton curry, cabbage and the most unique dish we had all trip: a large, curried fish head. The dishes we had at Pelita Nasi Kandar were pure com- fort food: savory, saucy, spicy and rich. The honey chicken was sticky and sweet and, thanks to some marinating in thick soy sauce, almost black. Slow cooking had left the skin of the chicken chewy and sweet. The mutton curry was pretty standard fare — delicious, but nothing unique. The fish head curry was like nothing I’ve ever seen. The head came from a red snapper. We only got the head, but there was plenty of flaky white meat on it. It was present- ed with fresh red and green chili pepper, red onion and stewed okra piled on top. The lips of the fish were parted, showing jagged needle teeth. Around the fish was a thick, spicy red gravy. Pelita Nasi Kandar is one of the few traditional restau- rants around the Petronas Towers, those twin symbols of KL. There are many more international places and chain restaurants. The base of the towers is actually a huge mall called Suria KLCC that has a Chili’s. We didn’t try it. Many of KL’s Malay restaurants have been influenced by Chinese and Indian food. It’s hard to find strictly Ma- lay dishes, but the downtown area of Bukit Bintang is a good place to look. There’s a side street called Jalan Alor that specializes in selling grilled, fried and steamed sea- food and durian, that most famous of Southeast Asian fruits. The “chicken fish” (whatever that is) is supposed to be good there, but we opted for steamed stingray, along with few sides — a soft noodle dish, some fried pork and greens. The stingray’s flesh was white and stringy, and there was surprisingly a lot of it. It was nice and simple, tasty, slightly ammoniac. But after all the bold flavors at the Indian restaurants we had eaten at, a little underwhelming. The durian for sale in carts on the sidewalk was more interesting. The fruit has a bad reputation. OK, it has a strong smell. A pungent smell. The smell of something … aged. I’ll admit that. But is it really that bad a smell? We bought some pieces already removed from their spiky yellow shell. The meat of the fruit is layered over large pits like those of an avocado. It’s soft and creamy and mildly sweet, wholly worth trying, although your fingers will smell like it for the rest of the day. Toward the end of our trip we decided to explore China- town, a crowded section of the city intercrossed by many small alleys filled with stalls and restaurants. KL’s China- town is also not as distinct as in other major cities. The city was founded by Chinese tin miners in the 1800s, after all; the whole city is Chinatown. But this is the part of town where you can try pure Chinese food, unadulterated by ex- otic tropical spices. Oh, and this is where you can come to find the best pork in the city. Malaysia is a majority-Muslim country, and you won’t find pork in most restaurants in KL. Want a pizza with pineapple and ham? How ‘bout chicken ham? You’d be hard pressed to find it here, but in China- town the pig is hanging in the windows in all its fatty glory. We had lunch one day at Nam Heong, a restaurant that specializes in the Hainanese dish of Wenchang chicken. In Malaysia, they just call it “chicken rice.” The long restau- rant was full of ethnic Chinese. The food at Nam Heong was as subtle in its flavors as the Indian food we tried was bold. Instead of overloading everything with sauce and spices, the food here focused more on quiet flavors and textures. We ordered a mixed plate of chicken and barbe- cue pork, a soft tofu side dish, and some braised lettuce. The chicken came out in little slices. No browning on the outside, no visible spices. It had been simmered at very low temperatures in a Chinese “master stock.” The result was soft, savory, moist pieces of meat. The accompanying rice had been boiled in chicken stock. The barbecued pork had plenty of color, all dark and caramelized on the out- side with tender meat inside. The soft tofu came in a salty broth, topped with crispy browned onions. The braised let- tuce came in the same broth. It was a meal full of nuanced flavors and textures — the moistness of the chicken, the saltiness of the lettuce, the silkiness of the tofu, the chew- iness of the pork. We spent two weeks exploring the cuisines of the city. As we waited at the airport for our flight back to Seoul, I decided to have one last taste of Malaysia’s most domi- nant culture — a coffee and McMuffin from the airport’s insanely crowded McDonald’s. We only got the head, but there was plenty of faky white meat on it. It was presented with fresh red and green chili pepper, red onion and stewed okra piled on top.