Shared Eats, French Style

First published in Options, The Edge Malaysia, June 12, 2017

Casual French dining for sharing among family and friends

A relative newcomer tucked into an upper floor of The Greens Condominium, Cocott has attracted quite a following, if the crowd on a recent weekend is anything to go by.  The restaurant has an airy, light feel, thanks to wide expanses on glass on three sides with outdoor and indoor seating.  A long counter and a large window into the kitchen occupy the last side.

Within, the décor embraces the spacious theme, with a clean, uncluttered design.  A herringbone pattern wooden parquet floor overlaid with rugs, and classic wooden cushioned chairs provide balance to the open space, white and glass walls. Sprays of orchids in bloom and a few strategically placed plants add further touches of warmth.

Neighbourhood French

 First published in Life+Style, Digital Edge Weekly, September 12, 2015

Authentic French cooking made accessible in a casual neighbourhood restaurant

Near the bustling commercial area of Bangsar, yet a little apart from it, Lorong Maarof is just a turn off Jalan Maarof. Rows of houses flank the relatively quiet residential road, except for a row of shophouses which feature a number of Indian banana-leaf restaurants, and a French restaurant. 

Rendezvous occupies a corner lot, open on two sides. To many Malaysians, French dining and ‘casual’ do not occur together, yet that is just how the restaurant feels. Plain wooden tables and chairs line the verandah outside, while within, it has a simple décor, with a plain cement floor and tables and chairs, extending to a long bar on one side, while the main feature of the other wall, with windows into the kitchen, is a large aquarium.  Red folded napkins on tables provide a visual connection to the deep-red painted walls. 

Overhead, rustic wooden lamps occupied by incandescent bulbs make for intimate lighting at night.  The bustle of the open road, exposed at both open sides of the restaurant, is never far away, although a row of potted bougainvillea plants provides a semblance of a screen. Although air-conditioned within, seating at the periphery of the restaurant invariably means being exposed to the natural humidity of the night. 

Homely French

First published in Options, The Edge Malaysia, June 6, 2015

The unexpected find of honest-to-goodness, hearty, traditional French food.

Away from the shopping complex of Plaza Damas, there is a section occupied by offices, and it is in this quiet section that the Red Herring restaurant is located.  Within, the restaurant is long, narrow and small, with a cozy, intimate atmosphere.   The far wall, painted in black, is decorated with white outline drawings of food items – vegetables, cooking utensils, meats, bottles and glasses, and a herring in red. A long blackboard runs along the length of one wall, with the menu chalked on it with playful drawings at the periphery.  There is a wine list as well. The touch of whimsy contributes to the informal mood. Below the blackboard is a glass panel which peeks into the serious-looking kitchen.

There are less than 10 tables, covered in white paper, with various types of chairs, colourful posters, a wine cooler and a counter on the other wall. Downlights and four red pendant lampshades suspended from the ceiling cast a warm glow over the restaurant.

The Island Abbey

First published in Options, The Edge, on May 9, 2015

Mont St Michel is separated by a few hundred meters of water and centuries in time from the modern world.

Only about a half-kilometer separated me from the island, with its stone ramparts and mossy buildings and steeples, yet it might as well have been a gulf of centuries. I stood on the mainland, my feet rooted firmly in the 21^st century, and within sight was the island abbey of Mont St Michel, which belonged to a different era altogether, a medieval fragment that had withstood the passage of time and modernity, embedded as irrevocably in the past as the rock island was rooted in the seabed.

Time had slipped slowly, and almost imperceptibly by, as I left the modern suburbs of Paris, and headed towards the northern coast of France.  The lush colours of autumn were gently brushed over the rural landscape of wheat fields and poplar trees, with their grey foliage in the breeze, the smell of freshly-harvested hay bales, upturned leaves turning silver by the roadside.  There were small somnambulent villages, neat and tidy looking, with cobblestone streets, boulangeries, patiserries and small grocery shops that flashed by. All that was needed was a woman with a parasol or a man in a beret to complete what could have been an Impressionist painting.

Time slipped further by at the coast, shedding the hectic modern world for fishing villages with slate roofs and wooden piers, fishing boats in the harbour, the salty tang of the sea and narrow, colourful houses jostling against each other.  And then, there in the distance, was the improbable mirage of Mont St Michel.