KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 25 — Going to school in Subang Jaya means I spent much of my adolescent years in SS15, hanging out with friends in pool halls and cyber cafes, living out our dorky student paradise in relatively economical fashion.

We ate mostly indiscriminately, sometimes alternating between fast food and the mamak, but more often than not we found ourselves eating the tried and tested chilli pan mee.

But I was never a fan.

While I preferred it to the occasionally mediocre quarter-pounder, I also secretly hoped nobody would suggest it whenever the question was raised.

I always found the chilli that’s so integral to the dish provides a flat sort of heat and little else, rendering the overall dish rather dull and one-note.

Still, I can remember the first time I tasted a pan mee that captured my imagination.

Years ago, my parents brought me on a stupidly hot day to a house in Happy Garden: Lucy Stall.

There, we sat under a zinc roof, sweating through my clothes, eczema acting up, I tasted pan mee unlike anything I’d ever had before.

The noodles were fried. Fried!

It carried hints of wok hei, and each thick, sturdy strand was coated in a dark brown gravy that was complemented by a punchy sambal.

Lucy Stall served its signature fried pan mee out of a house for over 40 years before closing a few years ago, but the dish has stayed with me ever since.

It’s the memory of that dish that drove me to seek out a version in Restoran 126 Kopitiam in Sri Petaling, a neighbourhood that – despite its proximity to OUG and Bukit Jalil – I don’t visit nearly enough.

The kopitiam spans two shops separated by an alley, with the pan mee stall in the shop on the right.

Here, the chilli fried pan mee (RM10) or 炒三椒板面 featured the same chewy noodles, fried once again, and braised in a dark sauce fortified with anchovy broth – similar to how Hokkien mee uses dried flounder.

Slick yet doughy, the pan mee was the perfect vessel for the deeply savoury sauce.

The 三椒 in its name refers to three "chillies”: dried chilli, along with red and green bell peppers, which added a tickly warmth that was both peppery and slightly sweet.

Crudely shaped chunks of minced pork and crispy bits of fried ikan bilis filled the rest of the plate, which is almost too easy to scarf down with dollops of tangy sambal.

This isn’t meant to be compared to Lucy’s; that version will always hold a special place in my heart for opening my palate to pan mee’s potential.

But this is something new (to me) and exciting – something I’ll be enjoying for a long time.

Because I’m a glutton easily distracted by the prospect of more food, I also took a chance on the yong tau foo stall from the shop across the alley.

They make most of the items from scratch, from stuffed tofu and fu chuk to eggplant and chillies, boiled and fried.

Our selection, which included stuffed tofu pok, eggplant, chillies, fried fu chuk, and sui kow, came to RM26.

Slightly better than decent, it might not be worth a trip just for that, but it’s a worthwhile snack – before, after, or during your fried pan mee.

Restoran 126 Kopitiam

34, Jalan 1/149D, Bandar Baru Sri Petaling, Kuala Lumpur

Open daily, 6.30am-3pm. Closed every other Friday.

Tel: 017-343 5778

Facebook: @Restoran126Kopitiam

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

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