The Evolution of a Cendol Snob

Over the past few years, R. has developed a taste for cendol, the great Malaysian shaved-ice drink. But really, how much can one learn, weaned on a diet of Sanur (NYC) and Penang (Philly) cendol? Time for her first trip to Malaysia.


We may have started off with the good stuff too soon. Baba-Nyonya cendol on Melaka's Jonker Street. After this, R. was even thumbing her nose at a good mamak cendol just a few minutes later. I'd created a monster.


Up to Penang, R. was not looking impressed. "I don't think these guys even have pulot, are you kidding me?"

Down to Singapore, armed with the Makansutra guide, R. would barely give Singapore cendol the time of day. "Even Penang Road cendol is better than this stuff." Oh dear.


I was definitely troubled. I found myself married to a full-on cendol fiend. When my uncle pulled off the side of the road somewhere near Seremban, heavily travelled by lumber-lorries, I definitely had my concerns.


R. tasted. "Pulot also got. Gula ok, not gula melaka, but ok." Well, at least she was assuaged, if not satisfied.