Scary soup!

A couple years back, there were so much ooohs and aaahs over what was claimed to be the most expensive bowl of soup in the world, costing RM712 (£108 sterling).

Now, it might well have been that the cost was related to the location - Kai Mayfair Restaurant was in central London - rather than its actual worth, though the Star Online article (subscription required to access archives) assured readers the soup was full of top grade abalone and shark fin.

The cook who created the dish was Malaysian Alex Chow. The boss of the restaurant was fellow Malaysian Bernard Yeoh, who was also a member of the SEA Games Malaysian shooting team.

Titled 'Monk Jumps Over The Wall', the soup entered the Guinness World Record then as The Most Expensive Bowl of Soup Commercially Available.

Note: It's ‘THE’ Guinness Records, and not the Malaysian version that we hear so often.

I recall, admittedly vaguely, that the title of 'Monk Jumps Over The Wall', or in a version with continuous present tense, alludes to an absolutely wondrous, aromatic, tasting dish that would have even a vegetarian Buddhist monk jumping over the confines of the Spartan monastery to sample its delights.

Thus the title is not unique to any particular dish; it has been employed to refer to a number, and indeed variety, of fantabulous tasting Chinese dishes, and needn't necessarily be expensive.

But expensive soups have always been a bit of a shocker, hmmm, maybe for me only.

Several years ago, while strolling in an unfamiliar part of Kuala Lumpur with 3 friends, we came across a rather shabby looking Chinese restaurant - well, 'shabby' from the outside anyway. Feeling somewhat peckish, we decided to chance it and have our dinner at what we thought to be a rather dingy place.

When we entered the joint, we were staggered by the decor inside. But even more magnificent were the gorgeous looking waitresses with their elegant cheong sums which featured the traditional slits up the side of their thighs but marvellously all the way to ... er ... very hypoxic altitudes.

Being the cheap skate that I was (and still am), I immediately became wary of the ultra luxurious surroundings, but my best pal was still oblivious to the very frightening change of environment, from grubby exterior to palatial interior - somewhat like the 'before & after' scenes in a Chinese ghost movie.

He asked our fair partners to order what they liked, which I thought was rather reckless. Fortunately, those babes were the 'jaga badan' types (conscious of their figures and diet) and asked for only 3 dishes - shark fin soup, fried chicken skin and a veggie dish.

When the shark fin soup arrived, I knew we were in for trouble, financially that was - remember, told you I was a cheap skate.

At that moment, I wished we had gone down to Central Market area for soup kambing (spicy lamb soup) instead.

The damn shark fin soup did not come in the usual community bowl that we had expected, but in individual bowls - each was a marvellous work of art - petite, delicate and elegant, and made from fine translucent porcelain that was artistically decorated with the popular ‘8 Immortals sailing across the sea’ in exquisite details. I could have sworn those Divine Ones were smirking wickedly at me - or so I thought at that stressful moment.

Inside the Ming (or was it Sung) Dynasty styled bowl I noted the light brown transparent soup, itself a sign of exceptional gourmet creation, but invariably coming with a frightening extravagant price. But what I saw in the soup petrified me even more.

Lying submerged within was a whole piece of shark fin about the size of a pocket dictionary and probably one-quarter its thickness. It was sliced finely but not completely through, with the entire piece still joined as one at its thicker edge - visualize it as a broad short comb with fine splayed teeth.

Oh no sir, none of those usual el cheapo shredded pseudo-shark fin drowned in beaten egg mishmash. This was the McCoy!

All those $$$$$ indicators were ringing my alarm bells and assaulting my money-conscious antenna like gamma rays in Hiroshima and Nagasaki on two fateful days in August 1945!

Much later I was told that it was a wondrous piece of magical culinary creation and tasted exceedingly marvellous.

Hey, how come 'I was told' when I was in fact there too, with my own bowl?

... because poor frightened kaytee was at that moment, to put it crudely, sh*tting bricks, worrying about how much money we two blokes had between us.

I knew roughly the paltry amount I had, but what about my best mate? That bastard was blissfully enjoying himself and yakking happily away with the two ladies, totally oblivious to what we had gotten ourselves into.

O Tien Kong - yes, moments like that made this aethist become a believer again in God - how such unknowns terrified me. C'mon, how do you expect me to savour the shark fin soup when mental sharks circled around me?

And of course I was subsequently informed that the fried chicken skin and vegetable (unknown variety imported from China) tasted equally exquisite - my taste buds then had gone into terrified hibernation. I couldn't recall how the dinner progressed to its merciful conclusion, but I must have just made some perfunctory stabs at the food along the way.

During the dinner, my several attempts to catch my mate's eyes and call for an emergency budgetary session in the restaurant's toilet were both furtive and futile. Bloody bastard was basking in the babes' attention as he recounted his whatever experience while I mentally re-counted my ringgit and sen, again and again.

One luscious-looking sweetie that I was rather keen on then looked at me with concern and asked in her charming honey-sweet manner, "Oh kaytee, you're looking rather pale and perspiring. Are you alright?" She put her cool dainty palm on my forehead to feel whether I had any fever - how very near to the truth she was - I was sick with fear.

I gave a weak half-hearted smile, but was by then too distraught to take unscrupulous advantage of her with my usual tactic, that was, closing my hands over hers and then gently bringing it down to my lips for a seductive kiss.

To cut the scary story short, most fortunately, between the two of us, we managed to scrape together enough money, but only just, to settle the equally scary bill and escape the debtor’s prison. That realisation smartly woke my buddy up from his bliss.

Since that day, I have never approached within a mile of that place. The two darlings enjoyed the dinner so much that they even suggested a couple of time we should re-visit it. I convinced them that I had discovered some unspeakable unhygienic practice at that restaurant - we went for soup kambing and bah kut teh instead.