Noodles for Breakfast in Penang

Breakfast is a meal to be considered.  And to consider breakfast in Penang is to bewilder yourself with choices.  Jori and I have the good fortune to agree that noodles, whenever possible, are the cornerstone of a healthy and satisfying breakfast.  In Penang, deciding that you’re going to eat noodles doesn’t narrow your choices all that much.  Just off the top of my head, pre-coffee, the list goes: laksa penang, coconut laksa, hokkien char mee, super hokkien mee, java mee, curry mee, char kway teow, prawn mee, wan tan mee (wet or dry)…and that’s just getting started.  We went through this exercise and it was on wan tan mee that we stopped. 

Wan tan mee includes a thin wheat flour noodle often referred to as Hong Kong style noodle and is served either in a bowl with broth, or, as is most often the case, on a plate, topped with some chicken or pork and a small bowl of hot, savory chicken broth and wantons served on the side.  It’s the perfect noodle to ease yourself into a day of eating. 

At Kedai Kopi May Loong, wan tan mee and coffee are the specialties.  The seasoning of the noodles was delicately balanced between sweet and savory, a fact belied by the dark tangled mess in which they were presented.  A deft hand with straight soy, savory chicken stock and kecap manis is required to execute at such a level.  May Loong’s noodles were topped with both chicken and slices of char siew and were, perhaps, the finest version I have yet to eat.  I was tempted to order a second round but reason prevailed, as I thought of all we were going to have to eat that day. So instead, I spent a few minutes comfortably reclined in my red plastic chair, sipping my sweet coffee and watching practiced hands work the wok.  On moments such as that, when absorbed in watching someone so skilled, no matter what the craft may be, I have such admiration, envy almost, for a level of repetition and routine I know I will never achieve. 

These are the things I think about as we wander through Chowrasta market, the famous wet market, stopping in awe to watch the woman making Chee Cheong Fun, as she sweats over her steamer, scraping up impossibly thin sheets of rice noodle wrapper and rolling them around toothsome shrimp.  The life in this market is overwhelming. I walk around, wide-eyed, ordering dishes from each vendor I pass, building a collection of multi-colored plates and littering our wobbly tin table with half eaten dishes.  I have eaten java mee, curry mee, chee cheong fun, taro cakes, chicken rice, char kway teow and it is barely noon.  We hold our stomachs, proud of our diligence in testing and tasting such a variety of flavors, repelled at our insistence on doing it so rapidly. But we know there is more to do.  We stagger through the crowds to the outskirts of the market and walk, silently, until one of us summons the courage to utter the word “lunch.”