Determined to find the goddamn Malaysian restaurant we knew was there… somewhere, we trudged up and down Smith Street, Collingwood 3 or 4 times, stomachs purring aggressively from the buckets of beer consumed in the hours prior.

Masak Masak was the  place we were looking for. My friend had been there before and when she mentioned it my mouth suddenly awoke and sent a message to my gut that laksa was on its way. There was no going back. I HAD TO HAVE MALAYSIAN FOOD.

Googling (that’s a verb right?) and stumbling for a good half an hour ended in a famished slink into a BYO Thai restaurant just before it shut, and chucking down a $15 stirfry and an $18 bottle of Chardonnay in 20mins. We were ok with that, but the mystery still remained – where was that Malaysian restaurant???

You know, the same friend and I did similar missions twice in a number of weeks, both times, certain this restaurant existed. It wasn’t until I spotted an article on Broadsheet about a new Hawker-style Malaysian restaurant to open within the shell of the original Masak Masak venue, that I realised, duh.

So the guys from the original teamed up with some new and they all got together and swallowed some hip, stirred in some design, a sprinkle of pop, and they dreamed up a brand. And thus, the Smith-sters were blessed with Sugar Prawn – the Willy Wonka of Asian cuisine. A veritable gobstopper for the senses.

Of course, on the next Saturday night that we both had free I had to suggest we soberly book a table at the now infamous Hawker-house, so we did.

**Just on a side note: I want to talk about a new shameful habit: $1 after-hours lattes from 711. Since I quit smoking I seem to have a lot more time up my sleeve, and as a result and finding that I am often early for things. On this particular Saturday night I was 10mins early to meet my friend. As I reached Sugar Prawn I was greeted with a couple of balmy, tropicalia outdoor settings, complete with tiki-style umbrellas set up on the street. This particular set-up was so inviting and cute…but you know what else it was…the perfect place to have an aperitif and a sneaky cigarette while I waited for my friend. NOOOOOO!!!

I had to turn and walk away, but what would I do with my 10 minutes?…I ended up in the 711 on the corner, lining up behind a cracked-up junkie at the $1 ‘barista brewed’ espresso machine while he stirred 35 sugar sticks into his jumbo cappuccino. I know, the horror. And it’s not the first time I have been there, waiting for that one-buck-brew. But you know what, it did the trick, so shut up.

Okay, Sugar Prawn. Pow.

We enter, and instantly I feel calm and happy. The music is sweet and prominent, the staff are chirpy and pierced and the colours (oh the colours!) are divine.

Walking through the pastel pastures to our bar-stools (where we waited while our table was being cleared) gave me an immediate vibe. All of a sudden I wanted to drink sparkling wine in vintage glasses and eat vibrant food from little, kitschy plates.

“Your wish is my command,” said the magic prawn.

We ordered a bottle of Umberto Luigi Prosecco, whose label adequately slotted into its surrounds, and sipped it from a champagne coupe. After we ordered, our waiter dropped a pastel pink, plastic basket on our table, with a red rose sketch on the side, equipped with our utensils for the evening and a couple of napkins.

…and then the food arrived.

Opting for the ‘Char sui BBQ pork and pickled cucumber’ for warm-ups and the ‘Half fried duck, Tamarind curry’ (with some jassy rice) as a main; to share – which is the name of the game here – we also grabbed a bowl of greens as a side, the ‘Okra, snake beans and green papaya’, which was in fact the perfect accompaniment to the sweet, rich duck dish.

The curry was amazing – write-home-about amazing – and it was ample. Served on the bone and swimming in a sweet, creamy, but a tiny bit sour curry, we barely even drew the tide on this tamarind pond. Uncharacteristically, I had to give in when our hosts came around to clear our plates.

The fact that I couldn’t squeeze it all in, had no bearing on the quality. Quite the opposite, I was so satisfied that I didn’t want to ruin it. Probably the only criticism I could find about the meal was, albeit pretty, the silver, etched chopsticks were a bit heavy and slippery for my novice hands and I had to succumb to the clumsy fork. #straya.

Also, the little kitsch bowl(ettes) proved impractical when you needed a place to dispose of you myriad duck bones. It was fun, but verging on annoying, especially when, unlike an authentic hawker style eatery, you weren’t graced with an entire box of tissues, but only one, single napkin.

Despite the sticky fingers and little bone’s nest laid out on the table next to my unused chopsticks, the whole experience was really magical and satisfying. And when the bill came, it was equally magical, scraping in at a couple of dollars over a hunge for the both of us (including wine). No raw prawn to complain of here.

Next time a restaurant disappears on one of my favourite strips, I hope it is replaced with an oasis as sweet as Sugar Prawn, because all that pop made the dreary search worth the wear on my sandals (boots even).