With the Blue Jays hosting game 1 of the World Series, I planned to be home on Friday. So while I was pondering what to do, this week's daily posts reminded me of the song by The Cure. In the early evening, I headed over to Chahaya Malaysia. Why? It was one of the last dinner my crush and I had some decades back. Before going, I should have consulted my entry about Chahaya because I ordered the same bad dish.
Found on busy Montreal Road, near a run-down motel and a condo construction (formerly an autoshop called Marier), the trip to Chahaya wasn't quite as romantic as strolling along the Rideau Canal from the university campus to The Glebe for its old location. They had long taken over half of what used to be Chinese diner Kung's Palace. From the utilitarian interior without much charm, apparently they haven't bothered with any upgrade in the decades since.
My vegetarian Sayur Masak Lemak (now $18) was spicy but not much else: tough onions, unremarkable young jackfruit, and a forgettable mix of veggies. I even missed the wok hei flavour of fast-food joint Thai Express. The bowl of traditional basmati rice ($4) was also a problem. The Nasik Minyak was dry by itself (nothing like chef Saha's) yet it retained a tasty hint of spices and ghee. But when you add the curry, the latter overwhelmed the rice. I might as well have chosen white rice and save $1. Mostly though, I mistook the dish's description of raisins and almonds garnishes (they were barely there) for another dish. I'm pretty sure my crush and I had Nasi Goreng, even if the typical preparation isn't vegetarian-friendly. Raised by hippie parents as a vegetarian, either we had asked for some changes or agreed to gloss over some of the ingredients.
Compared to the last few days of delicious eats, this was a major disappointment. I suppose the lesson here is that whatever magic (or so you think) happened back then, it's unlikely to be duplicated in the present day. Nostalgia is best left as a daydream.
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