NOT a food blog
Sometimes, it can be really hard to be inspired to write a new post. A milllion things flutter around in my mind, all demanding equal attention, and despite knowing that this is my own personal time to utilize as I want, the words just don’t come out. Instead, my mind wanders. My fingers reach up to a pimple on my face. I scratch the scab off but the scar is ever present. When will this scar ever heal? It is right in the centre of my forehead, almost like a pottu. I’m approaching middle-age, and I still have a pimple that refuses to leave me. Even children know when to eventually leave their parents, but this pimple looks like it’s here to stay. Why can’t I be like one of those famous bloggers who gets a plastic surgeon to sponsor her nose makeover? I don’t want much. I just want to be rid of this pimple.
It doesn’t get better on MSN. As I type this, a separate conversation is happening on MSN:
Me: I’m trying to get inspired for a new post now. Can’t, though.
FBB: Oh, just think of me and write something viciously wicked. Imagine each poke of the keyboard a stab of the knife. bwahahahaha
Me: That’s an excellent idea. Thanks.
FBB: See. I am ur muse. Take out the ur. I am muse.
I am muse??!?! Now, in addition to being uninspired, I also have to cope with this intense feeling of wanting to throw up all over this keyboard.
And so I turn to email, to a friend close to my heart living down south. I tell him I am uninspired. He replies:
“why dontcha ask ME what to write. i have tonnes of ideas. well, you just need to add substances to it.”
Errrr, and feed that ever growing ego?
God help me, I’m surrounded by egomaniacs.
On Deepavali day, Bald Eagle and I spent the whole day at home watching the Golden Globe winning series, Mad Men, on DVD. We took breaks only to eat and use the toilet. By dinner time, I was feeling exhausted from sitting on the couch. “Let’s go out,” I said. “Chuish spoke about this great Japanese izakaya at Hartamas.” “You’re buying?” he asked me with an manipulative smile. “Yes.” Sigh, the things I have to do to bribe the man to go out.
Izakaya Tamako is tucked away in a section of Plaza Damas like a hole in the wall. It is so small, it won’t fit Bald Eagle’s uncles, aunts and their children. But as far as izakayas go, it is charming. There’s a whole bunch of Japanese writings on papers pasted on the wall, probably the menu, and there are a couple of pictures, one a pencil drawing of the KLCC, and the other a photograph of the owner with Tun Mahathir (or at least, that’s what it appeared to me from 7 feet away). Walking in, I thought I was in heaven. Billows of smoke surrounded me (them Japanese love to smoke), and my ears were filled with vibrant sounds of Japanese chatter. As I said, it’s charming.
There are salads, and there are salads. No doubt, this plate consisted of a bunch of leaves thrown together with a very light vinaigrette and sprinkled with sesame seeds, but one should never look down on a simple salad. I’ve eaten substandard salads at a prominent organic restaurant in The Gardens costing three times what I paid here, but the leaves looked tired. I doubt that I’ll ever eat at that restaurant again. Anyway, the salad here, at only RM6, was nicer.
I was expecting more with the agedashi tofu (RM6), and while the exterior was nicely fried, the tofu was not the silken variant that I was expecting.
This restaurant is in-your-face non-halal, with multiple pork dishes on every page of the menu. The buta bara (RM8), pork morsels on satay sticks was delicious, very simply marinated and grilled, with just a hint of salt and pepper, and sweetened with slices of grilled onions. The pork slices had a nice bite.
My oyakodon (RM18) came with two raw eggs broken on a bed of rice covered with chicken. The resultant dish can be a bit soggy (from the sauce from the braised chicken) and slimey (from the eggs), but it is absolutely tasty.
His katsu curry rice (RM21) came with a generous portion of pork chops, which despite looking dry, was actually quite juicy and tasty. The sticky japanese rice was covered in a moderately spicy curry with bits of pork in it. The curry was excellent and reminded me of meals in Tokyo in wintertime.
The restaurant is open from 12pm to 3pm, and 6pm to 12am, perfect when I’m working late and need to grab a quick bite. I’m confident that finding one seat in the restaurant will be a lot easier than getting a table for 6.
E-0-10/E-1-10, Plaza Damas (Opposite Starbucks)
Jalan Sri Hartamas 1
50480 Kuala Lumpur.
Food, for me, is a means to an end and not an end in itself.
Food, for me, represents the love of family, the fellowship of friends, and the community and communality it brings.