The Chongqing Kitchen That Kajang Didn’t See Coming

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Some restaurants you find through Google. Others you find because a friend grabs your arm and says, you need to go here.

Shang’s Restaurant, or Shang Zi Wei (尚滋味), in Kajang, is exactly that kind of place.

Ten months ago, it relocated from Semenyih, Negeri Sembilan.

No fanfare, no influencer launch, no balloon arch.

Just a kitchen, a chef from Chongqing, southwest China, and a menu that has absolutely no business being this good at these prices.

Fiery, Fragrant and Dangerously Good

Start with the Chongqing Spicy Chicken (重庆辣子鸡, RM33) — the dish that put Chongqing on the culinary map — a mountain of dried chillies concealing crispy, wok-tossed chicken pieces that are simultaneously fiery, fragrant and dangerously addictive.

It’s a dish that rewards patience; dig through the chillies, and you’ll understand why this is considered one of China’s great comfort foods.

The Signature Grilled Fish (招牌烤鱼, RM48) is the table centrepiece — a whole siakap of around 1kg, at a price that would easily fetch RM88 elsewhere in KL, where tilapia is the more common substitute.

A whole siakap, grilled then finished in either mala or sour-and-spicy broth — theatrical in presentation, serious in flavour, order the mala if you want the full Chongqing experience.

The claypot section deserves its own visit: Garlic Shrimp Claypot (RM38) — twelve white prawns in a rich, aromatic base — and the Spicy Hotpot (RM35), loaded with lotus root, enoki mushroom, black fungus, potato, fresh shrimp and crab filament.

Don’t overlook the Claypot Eggplant (煲仔茄子, RM20), served either with salted fish or in a fish-fragrance sauce — a quietly brilliant dish that punches well above its price, and a particular favourite among Malay customers drawn to that deeply savoury hit of salted fish.

And don’t leave without the Peking Duck (老北京脆皮烤鸭) — whole bird at RM118 requires two hours’ notice, while a half bird is available anytime, both served with crepe-thin pastry, fresh cucumber and onion — it’s a dish that requires commitment and rewards it.

The Signature Grilled Fish (招牌烤鱼, RM48) — a whole siakap, grilled then finished in your choice of mala or sour pickled broth, blanketed in dried chillies, fresh peppers and spring onion. Order the mala. Trust the process. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Pickled Fish Soup (酸菜鱼片) — silky fish fillets poached in a tangy, lightly numbing pickled vegetable broth with black fungus and Sichuan peppercorn. The gentler side of Chongqing, and just as dangerous to your appetite. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Chongqing Spicy Chicken (重庆辣子鸡, RM33) — a mountain of dried chillies concealing crispy, wok-tossed chicken pieces that are simultaneously fiery, fragrant and dangerously addictive. Dig through the chillies, and you’ll understand why this is considered one of China’s great comfort foods. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Stir-Fried Chinese Yam with Black Fungus (淮山炒木耳, RM18) — silky black fungus and crisp Chinese yam tossed with green chilli in a light, clean wok sauce —an understated dish that reminds you great cooking doesn’t always need to shout. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Dumpling Soup (清汤水饺, RM10 for 10 pieces) — plump, hand-folded dumplings in a clean, delicate broth, scattered with fresh spring onion. Available in chicken, beef or lamb, this is comfort food at its most honest — and at RM1 a dumpling, possibly the best value on the table. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The star of the show arrives pre-sliced and ready to impress — Peking Crispy Roast Duck (老北京脆皮烤鸭), served the traditional way: lacquered skin glistening, tender meat fanned out beside thin pancakes, fresh cucumber strips, and a dark dipping sauce. No pork, no compromise — just a classic done right. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Not Your Mall Mala: The Difference a Chongqing-Born Chef Makes

To understand what’s on the plate, a brief geography lesson helps.

Chongqing was once part of Sichuan province before becoming its own provincial-level municipality (like Beijing or Shanghai) — which means the food here carries that deep Sichuan DNA: the numbing heat of Sichuan peppercorn, the slow burn of dried chilli, the kind of flavour that doesn’t just sit on your tongue but occupies it.

This is not the sanitised, crowd-pleasing version of mala you find in mall food courts or tourist spots.

The chef here is from Chongqing, and it shows: every dish is cooked fresh to order — the menu proudly states 每一份都是现炒，拒绝预制菜 — “every portion is freshly stir-fried, no pre-made paste.”

In an era when freshly-cooked mala is harder to find than it should be, that matters enormously — and clearly, word has reached the right people.

Shang’s was officially opened in January by Yang Amat Mulia Raja Shuibah, heir to the late Sultan Idris Afifullah Shah of Perak, a royal endorsement that speaks to the restaurant’s standing as a serious halal Chinese dining destination.

A cross-section reveals the generously packed filling within each hand-folded dumpling: chunky, seasoned meat with a juicy, just-cooked interior that speaks to the kitchen’s no-shortcuts philosophy. Every portion freshly made, never pre-fab — and it shows. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Hot & Sour Shredded Potato (酸辣土豆丝, RM15) — julienned potato stir-fried to that precise sweet spot between tender and crisp, tossed with dried chilli and spring onion in a bright, tangy vinegar sauce. A deceptively simple dish that is a staple of every Chongqing household — and proof that the best things on a menu don’t always carry the highest price tag. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Braised Beef Noodles (红烧牛肉面, RM15) — slow-braised beef chunks swimming in a deep, mahogany broth that has clearly been coaxed over hours, not minutes. Crowned with blanched greens and a scatter of spring onion, this bowl warms you from the inside out. Your choice of ramen or rice noodles — though honestly, either works beautifully with a broth this good. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Spicy Cucumber & Black Fungus Salad (凉拌黄瓜木耳, RM6) — a fiery, glossy toss of cucumber chunks, silky black fungus, peanuts and green chilli, drenched in a bold chilli-garlic dressing that pulls absolutely no punches. The kind of cold dish that wakes up your entire table — and at RM6, it might just be the most exciting six ringgit you’ll spend all meal. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

Brown Sugar Lava Rice Cake (爆浆红糖糍粑, RM8 for 5 pcs) — six golden, panko-crusted pillows of glutinous rice, fried to a satisfying crunch on the outside while harbouring a molten brown sugar core within. Chewy, crispy, sticky and sweet all at once, this is Chongqing street-snack nostalgia done right. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The Pork-Free Pivot — And Why It’s Significant

Sichuan and Chongqing cooking is traditionally built around pork — remove it carelessly, and the cuisine collapses.

Shang Zi Wei removes it entirely and somehow pulls it off without the food tasting like an apology.

The kitchen is pork-free, with a halal certification already in the pipeline, submitted three to four months ago.

That single decision has opened the door to Malay and Indian diners who would otherwise never get to experience this flavour tradition.

And to be clear — this isn’t Xinjiang Muslim Chinese food with its lamb skewers and hand-pulled noodles; this is full-blooded Sichuan-Chongqing cooking, mala and all. The adaptation here is done with care, not at the expense of compromise.

The result isn’t a watered-down version of the cuisine — it’s the real thing, just with a wider seat at the table.

Raja Shuibah (middle), also known as ‘Ku Ess’, receiving a token of appreciation from the Shang Zi Wei team — and the smiles in that room say everything. When multiracial community leaders show up at the same table, sharing mala and braised beef under the same roof, that’s not a photo opportunity. That’s a neighbourhood coming together over food, the way it always should. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

A table of happy patrons deep in the Shang Zi Wei experience — drinks in hand, phones down (mostly), and the kind of relaxed, unhurried energy that only comes when the food has done its job. The sort of scene that no marketing budget can manufacture. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The dining room on a busy evening — tables filled, conversations overlapping, the warm glow of rattan pendant lights overhead. This is what an inclusive table looks like in practice: not a concept, but a full house. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The credentials on the wall tell the story plainly. Alongside food safety certifications sits the official opening plaque — bearing the name of Raja Shuibah, who officially launched Shang Zi Wei as a Restoran Halal Cina on 17 January. A royal endorsement for a restaurant built on the quiet conviction that great Sichuan food belongs to everyone. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The Kajang Factor

Pricing here reflects the neighbourhood, not the postcode ambition.

Snacks from RM8, set meals from RM9.90, and claypots that feed two for under RM40.

In a city where a bowl of mala soup in a mall food court can set you back RM25 for the privilege of eating next to a bubble tea queue, Shang Zi Wei feels almost rebellious.

Kajang has long lived in the shadow of its more glamorous neighbours.

But the city has always had a quiet confidence about its food — and Shang Zi Wei fits right into that tradition.

It didn’t come here to be discovered; it came here to cook.

Shang Zi Wei (尚滋味) is located in Kajang. Reservations for a whole Peking Duck require 2 hours’ notice — contact Xia at 016-5259917. Halal certification pending.

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The Chongqing Kitchen That Kajang Didn’t See Coming
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