Macau Asian Tavern

13 July 2019

MACAU ASIAN TAVERN

101 Hout Street, Cape Town

Is there a word for that moment of utter, bleak, unfathomable despair, halfway through your delectable main course when you realise, as a direct consequence of over ordering on the starters and gorging yourself in a feeding frenzy that would put piranhas to shame, that there is no way you can finish your food without threatening the very physical integrity of your belly?

That’s what happened to the wife and me tonight at Macau Asian Tavern. Sometimes too much of a good thing is just plain too much.

To put it another way, there are those menus that cause despondency when you realise that there’s hardly anything there that interests you and that it’s going to be a case of making the compromising best of a bad job, and then there are those menus that cause anxiety because everything is so tantalising that the prospect  of having to choose only a few items induces major stress.

The latter situation is true of Macau, though we obviously weren’t actually anxious, just exhilarated.

It was a spur of the moment decision this afternoon. Both of us had wanted to eat at Macau for a while but had parked it in the bucket list garage, so to speak.  I phoned and booked, and we pulled in just after 19h00. The last time we’d been at these premises, it’d been Savoy Cabbage and we’d come to celebrate my birthday. Tonight we were just celebrating life.

I’ve never been further east than the transit area of Dubai airport or perhaps Qatar airport,  and for me the feel, getup and look of the restaurant pretty much sum up how I would imagine a tavern in Macau, with lots of hanging lanterns, Chinese decorations, dim lighting, the happy buzz of excited patrons and party music in the background. I must commend the house for delivering a celebratory atmosphere of joyous noise that still didn’t overwhelm one; we could have a proper conversation, despite the  din, and that’s a marked contrast to the unpleasant loudness of Bones where it’s just unbearable noise that detracts markedly from the experience.

\We were seated on the mezzanine floor, coincidentally just about where we sat last time around. A second set of stairs has been added for access to this section and there’s counter seating at the railing with a grandstand view of the floor below.

One is handed a few cards: main menu, sushi menu and drinks menu.  The one big downer at this point was that the dim lighting, while great for mood, made it impossible to read the menus, until we lit up the night sky with the flashlight apps on our phones.

The cocktail menu is quite extensive. We ordered a Singapore Sling and a Mojito to set the tone. It’s date night, it’s a tavern, you gotta have a pretty drink with a kick. They didn’t come with tiny umbrellas, though.

The food menu is, as I might’ve alluded, entirely enticing, seductive, alluring, tempting, enthralling (isn’t a thesaurus wonderful?) and all that, with so many things that could be first choice that it’s a challenge to refrain from ordering one of everything, at least from the smaller portioned items. 

Apparently, the cuisine of Macau the place is a glorious mingling of Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Indonesian, Vietnamese, and whatever else is good in Southeast Asia. This menu showcases that kind of intoxicating fusion.

We ordered two petticos of duck spring rolls and salt and pepper chilli prawns, plus pork and prawn dim sum and a reloaded California roll sushi platter, with the promise to our waitress that we’d probably order more later, as I’d spied the crispy porky belly under the mains, and the wife foresaw a pulled pork bao bun in her near future.

The egregious amateur error here was ordering the four items at once instead of two at a time. They were brought almost simultaneously, crowding the small table, followed by a small bowl of ramen with chicken dumplings, which confused us because we hadn’t ordered it. The mystery was  cleared up by head chef Kuan Lai who came to greet us, well, mostly me.  The ramen was a pasella.

His Afrikaans, the chef said, isn’t very good but his Dutch is better. I’d say his Afrikaans was okay and better than my Dutch.

The wife tells me the chef was previously at much loved and much missed Kitima in Hout Bay.

Because we were hungry, because everything was on the table at the same time and because we were greedy, I guess, we wolfed down (there’s no other way of describing the modus operandi) the food with joyous gusto and indulged ourselves to the max because it was all so damn good.

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The calamari and spring rolls were both the best we’d ever, ever had and will spoil me for these dishes for the rest of my life. The crumbly wisp of a batter coating on the calamari was lighter than helium and each morsel almost literally melted in the mouth. The spring rolls had been cut in half and were plated vertically to resemble the sliced tops of a tiny bamboo grove. The casings were thicker than we’re accustomed to but with a hugely enjoyable crisp brittleness and the duck filling was sublime.

The pork and prawn dim sum were utterly delicious too, soft, slightly gooey and deeply flavourful, and the sushi took me back to my youth in Japan, well, they would’ve, if I had ever been to Japan, during my youth or at all.

The wife had never had ramen (except maybe for 1 minute noodles) and would not have ordered any, whereas I quite like this type of dish. She was immensely, pleasantly surprised by the scrumptious, soft chicken dumplings and the deep, intense flavour of the broth. I do believe our next Asian meal might be at a ramen bar.

Man, I tell you, we were buzzing with culinary delight (and perhaps also from the cocktails, two glasses of wine and a glass of prosecco), studied the menu again to decide on possible dessert options and, with 20/20 hindsight, supremely foolishly ordered the two main courses.

The bao bun was soft and the juicy pulled pork filling was divine with a delicate, perfect balance of sweet, sour and spiciness.

The crisp pork belly was served as small fingers, as if they were short ribs, with a wasabi mayo on the side, with braised potatoes and vegetables. The meat was succulent, well textured yet without being dry and absolutely gorgeous. I savoured each mouthful as long as possible especially when I realised I shouldn’t have ordered the dish  after the previous indulgence and I hoped, by pacing myself at this late stage, that I could manage to finish my main course.

We caught each other’s doleful expressions. We’d realised, at the same time, that it was a lost cause. We couldn’t eat anymore. Dessert was blown off too. Serves us right for over indulging at warp speed.  

It was with embarrassment that I requested a doggy bag for the leftovers. Usually, I leave a clean plate.

The bill for food and drinks came to R979 before tip.

On the way out, Chef Kuan Lai said goodbye and introduced me to his partner Seelan who was toiling away in the open kitchen downstairs.  I can’t deny that it’s heart-warming to be recognised  by  restauranteurs, and by other members of the group, and appreciated for my humble efforts. It’s happened to me often enough that I continue to be impressed by the wide reach and influence of this group.

Macau Asian Tavern is a marvellous place with a great vibe, excellent service and great food. I’d be so bold as to say that this supper was one of the best, if not the best, I’d eaten in Cape Town so far this year, with individual components that’ll linger in the memory for a long time.  The simplicity, technical mastery and abundant flavour of good Asian food just can’t be beat.