Bak Kut Teh - A Soup of Home

I never met my cousin Augustus before till I visited Singapore but we bonded instantly over a shared age and love of food. He took me to the hottest club shows and the best late-night eats.

Our first early morning food adventure together was another Zouk club night.

After a Wednesday night of highly choreographed dance moves to popular 80's tracks (Mambo nights), Agus was raring to take me for bak kut teh — pork rib soup. I wasn't one to refuse.

It was also the first time I had a barley drink before (no alcohol). I didn't like but it's supposed to be very good for you.

But the soup. Oh my. The soup (bottom right corner). It's not much to look at but one whiff and I was drowning in a haze of meaty aroma that flickered with the life of a nighttime campfire. I slurped up the broth with abandon. And I wanted more. I was like the greedy little fat kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, except instead of a river of milk chocolate, I wanted to fall into this river of bak kut teh.

What does this smell like?

I couldn't stop gobbling it up, inhaling it, wondering why it was so familiar yet so different from the original dish. Then it hit me.

It smelled like Montreal Schwartz's smoked meat.

I was home at last.

Chicken noodle soup

I arrived in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia from Kolkata, India at 11:30 p.m. local time. By the time I arrived at my hostel via bus from the budget airline terminal, it was nearly 1 a.m. It was my first trip to Asia: a solo backpacking experience I designed for myself as a brash, strong-headed kid, who recently graduated with her bachelor of journalism and wanted to taste adventure. Having tasted life in Kolkata, I was ready to call it quits, but I kept it going somehow and decided when facing defeat, I would eat.

The next morning, I set out at 9 a.m. humidity in search of food. I wasn't sure what I wanted to eat but I stuck to the rule that if the place is busy with locals, it should be good. By the end of this southeast Asia tour, I found it was the best rule I could arm myself with when it came to experiencing the authentic daily meals of every city.

Somehow I lucked out with a hostel that was located just down the street from one of the most popular food stall strips in KL. I stumbled upon a couple of fellows frying up bacon, which completely blew my mind. I thought this was supposed to be an Islamic country...

As much as bacon tempted me, the place was more of a market than a sit-down place. If they were layering those delicious pieces of fat on bread with some eggs, I would've been all over it. Instead I opted for the guy who called me over to his stand with the plastic chairs and tables set up right off the sidewalk.

I opted for what everyone else was eating -- or at least looked like they were eating: chicken noodle soup, Asian-style, of course.

It was simple, hot and dirt cheap. It was the first time I ate noodle soup for breakfast, though it's virtually common practice throughout Asia.

I felt ready for exploration.