Senses on overtime. Sai Woo is rowdy street food that meets the elegance of unfussy Malaysian flavours.
Ratings:
Taste – 7.0
Atmosphere – 8.0
Service – 5
Value – 5.8 (70-100rm pp)
Sai Woo’s setting
Bukit Bintang. You hear that name, and it screams at you: “Oh, tourist spot.” Rammed with brightly lit bars and massage parlours that seem to have an armada of workers. It’s not really a spot to take your girlfriend or family, but tucked inside this hectic stretch is Jalan Alor night market.
You shuffle through the crowd like a snail, past the oyster stalls that will give you the shits, the durian spots that fill your nose with shit, and the sewage, where you will visibly see shit. All this to reach a luminous blue tiger sign bearing the name Sai Woo.
It’s a vast outdoor restaurant littered with plastic chairs and rickety tables, and a man in a Man United shirt deviling you in. The humidity hits the second you sit down. You’re pouring with sweat, overstimulated by the noise and the neon lights filling your peripheral vision. It’s that classic food street feeling.
Sai Woos, Wooing Food
Seafood is the main event. The fish sit in giant tanks in the classic Asian style, which is a bit sad to look at, but it means they’re as fresh as they get. I always go for the stingray. It arrives as a single wing, charred and crispy, served on a banana leaf with spicy sambal sauce. This is your chance to avenge Steve Irwin, and my God, it is meaty. The idea that there’s nothing to eat on a stingray is a myth. It’s plump and juicy, with thick, fleshy meat that falls straight off the bone. The bones are big too, which is a bonus. None of that shoving a bone in your mouth, chewing inconspicuously around it, then trying to fish it out without anyone noticing. Think skate wing with bigger bones. It becomes the centrepiece of the table.
The table fills up fast after that. The salted egg yolk prawns are rich, salty and buttery, which surprises people, because “salted” and “egg” together sound like another one of Asia’s weird egg endeavours. There’s barely any eggy flavour at all. The prawns are slightly overcooked and a bit dry, so the sauce does the work here.
The mala clams come perfectly steamed and fragrant, with that unmistakable mala hit. They bring a freshness to the table and so much flavour it’s like a bath bomb fizzing away in the tub, every speck of it soaking into your tongue.
The vegetables hold all that seafood together and give your palate a breather. The lotus root, which always looks to me like a cartoon wagon wheel, comes soaked in dark soy, with a watery, fresh bite and a simple, mild flavour. The kangkung, or water spinach, carries that on: watery, crunchy and cooling, a small mercy when the sweat is still dripping off you.
Then the chilli crab lands, slumped in a red sauce you could plaster a wall with. Sugary on the first lick, then the chilli rolls in late, itching the throat like someone complaining about their hayfever. The two large crabs come in, reddish, with soft flesh inside that slides off the shell. By the end, my fingers are orange, and I’m dragging rice round the plate, pouring at every little bit of sauce left like a dog licking its bowl clean.
The fried rice is also a hit for the fussy lot who can not bear the idea of eating anything outside of their comfort zone. Served in half a pineapple, it is sweet and tangy, sharply sweet, giving the young kids a sugar burst.
I have been talking highly of this place, and don’t get me wrong, it is all great, but it is the kind of food that is comforting and decent. It won’t blow you away, but it’ll give you a delicious bite every time you go. It is consistent, and sometimes that’s what food should be. A place you can keep going back to without breaking the budget or being ripped off.
Sai Woo is the shallow end of the pool. There’s stingray for the brave, pineapple fried rice for the nervous, and enough in between that nobody leaves hungry or traumatised, which makes it the place to start if you’re new to Malaysian food or just need feeding at midnight. Then it’s back out the way you came, dripping and smelling of sambal. Past the durian, past the oysters, past the shit. Worth every step.