You’ll nearly be in Thailand by the end of the meal. Looking for a funky date? A bowl of the Thai chili pan mee, a massive order of flat noodles tossed with dried fish, ground pork, fried egg and a not-too-spicy sambal, with some curry fish balls and a side plate of roti canai will easily please two. They’re ladling out rich bowls of bone marrow broth or cranking out hundreds of orders of fresh noodles or crisping up roti on the griddle or mixing bottles of San Pellegrino with house-made syrups for bright, flavored sodas. In place of that singularity, Wong and Ewe have hired a small army of cooks, all of which can be seen in the massive open kitchen tending to various tasks. You never get the feeling that one chef is trying to satisfy an ego by putting personal or biographical touches on these dishes. Food Terminal sounds a little impersonal, which is at least correct in signaling that this isn’t a singular chef’s vision. It is also a loving celebration of the diversity of Malaysia, those various and wide-ranging menu options mirroring the myriad cultures and ethnicities that call that country home. It is an accomplishment that I imagine has been no small effort for owners Amy Wong and Howie Ewe, even considering their previous experience running their small chain of Sweet Hut bakeries. My meals since have been similarly consistent, no matter what menu section I order from. A big plate of barbecue pork, cooked red, tender and salty sweet, brought us to meaty, glorious satisfaction. Cumin beef skewers sang out their herby essence. Szechuan dumplings were fiery but focused, the depth of those peppercorns as well defined as the dumpling wrappers. Fried slices of pig ears were both crisp and gelatinously tender. A bowl of garlic noodles topped with salty fish eggs (mentaiko) lit our taste buds up with lightning strikes of pleasure and flavor. That first night, our random assortment of dishes, chosen from nearly every section of the menu, landed on the table without a single dud. Much of that comes down to the simple, astounding fact that the kitchen actually pulls this huge menu off. Our first round of beers was nearly done. When he came back a third time, we just started rattling off dishes in near random order, flipping back and forth between the pages like a reference dictionary. There’s so much to read! There are more than a dozen chapters in the Table of Contents! Should we do soup noodles or flat noodles? A rolling hot plate or a roti plate? Crispy baos or steamed veggies? All of the above? How would we eat it all? Which section should we ignore? The combined power of our culinary brains couldn’t process the best way to approach things. He came back again and we still weren’t ready. He came back to take our order and we sent him away. Our young server delivered the menus, glossy magazine-style books about as thick as a recent issue of Vanity Fair, and a round of beer. Food Terminal is a big restaurant, both in size and ambition, and I knew I would need the help. In other words, he’s got an appetite and I wanted to order a feast. He's spent much of his adult life working in kitchens and making food pilgrimages, whether eating his way through Southeast Asia or wandering the boroughs of New York in search of the perfect slice of pizza. The first night I ate at Food Terminal, the new Malaysian restaurant on Buford Highway, I brought a friend whom I consider to be about as food-obsessed as I am.
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