Viva Lewes Issue #162 March 2020

FOOD REVIEW
Pestle & Mortar
Malaysian Laksa
Photo by Alex Leith
Sometimes, when you
regularly go to a restaurant,
you can’t look past a
certain item on the menu,
and for me, at the Thai
noodle bar Pestle and
Mortar, that’s Malaysian
Laksa.
I go there every Tuesday,
at around midday, to avoid
the lunchtime rush-hour. That means that when
I wake up on a Tuesday morning, it’s not long
before I think ‘wahay, it’s Malaysian Laksa day!’
I’m not exaggerating, it’s that good.
My favourite item on the menu used to be
another item, which I’ve written about in this
magazine before: the Bánh Mì. This consists
of spicy pork in a baguette, a legacy from the
French colonial occupation of Vietnam; I used
to eat it sitting in the All Saints graveyard, and
enjoy every bite. But not anymore. Now I find
a spot at a table in the colourful café, and sup
a bowlful of the rich broth that is Malaysian
Laksa. I order it with extra prawns, which adds a
quid to the (originally £7.95) price.
It usually takes about five minutes to prepare, so
I’ve taken to ordering a spring roll (£1) to temper
my hunger. Chopped vegetables and dark vermicelli
in a crispy batter, served with a decorated
porcelain spoon, filled with sweet chilli. I’ve taken
to keeping hold of this spoon to eat my laksa,
instead of the steel ones on offer on the table.
The broth arrives, served in a big decorated
ceramic bowl, and it’s quite a looker. The dish
is dominated by coconut milk and coloured
and flavoured with turmeric, and there are at
least ten ingredients semi-submerged within it.
These include, in reverse
order of magnitude:
coriander, crispy-fried
shallots, spring onions,
beansprouts, shiitake
mushrooms, mangetout,
pickled mustard rings,
Chinese cabbage, king
prawns and hunks of tofu.
It’s multi-textured, then,
and it takes a while to eat, which is a positive
thing, because every mouthful is worth savouring.
The broth itself is the star of the show, characterised
by a piquant chilli-hit with notes of galangel
and lemon grass. I like fishing out the bits of
vegetable and protein with chopsticks, which
sabotages my tendency of hoovering my food up
without properly appreciating it. I accompany
the broth with a glass of tap water, which acts as a
palate cleanser, between umami hits.
I’d like to be able to tell you about the other
soups and broths and curries available on the
crowded menu blackboard, but I’ve hardly even
noticed they’re on offer, and won’t until I’m over
this year’s lunch crush.
I normally go back to work at this point, but Ed,
the front-of-house fellow who runs the place with
his partner Honey (who heads the cooking team)
offers me a cup of Vietnamese coffee. It’s black,
as I don’t fancy condensed milk, in the Oriental
fashion, and is accompanied by a slice of homemade
pineapple and rambutan upside-down cake
(£2.50). Rambutan, it turns out, is a lychee-like
fruit, and tastes delicious within a delicate sponge.
Tuesdays just got even better.
Alex Leith
4 Lansdown Place
73