The sun may have set on the British Empire, but in the teeming back streets of Malaysia's capital, the humble English jelly is making its last gastronomic stand.
Jelly and custard may have been muscled aside by sorbet and creme brulee in Britain, but in downtown Kuala Lumpur (on the edge of Little India - nearest station, Bandraya) the old boarding school pud still reigns supreme.
Step through the swinging doors of the much-loved Coliseum Café and Hotel, and you'll rediscover not only the sights and smells of a colonial Malaya, but a menu that anywhere else would merit a preservation order.
Jelly is just one of 400 items listed. Other staples include jam omelettes, sardines on toast, poached eggs on toast, ham and eggs, oxtail soup, fish fingers and chips, peaches and cream and bacon sandwiches - all served on stained tablecloths, with plates of bread and butter, and bottles of Worcestershire sauce.
First-time visitors are easily distracted by the sheer theatricality of the place. Apart from the bar room regulars and its tribe of genteel waiters, the Coliseum sports a wonderful collection of old newspaper cuttings - "When Your Servant Has Malaria" reads one - and pen sketches by Lat, Malaysia's most famous cartoonist.
While expats luxuriate in the hotel's down-at-heel atmosphere (and burgundy lounge chairs), locals flock to the cafe to enjoy the Coliseum's signature dish of sizzling steak, which fills the restaurant with a plume of wood smoke.
For just over a fiver the diner is treated to a slab of New Zealand fillet cooked on an open brazier next to his or her table by an ancient Chinese waiter. The meal is served with a selection of "potatoes, tomato, Brussels sprouts and mixed salad". You can round it all off with jelly pudding for the equivalent of 50p, or splash out on a serving of peaches and cream for £1.10.
Other house specialities include baked crab and freshly made Hainanese bread. A small army of chefs in white vests take great pride in using natural ingredients. Canned food is avoided at all costs. Indeed, the cafe still makes its own breadcrumbs, mayonnaise and chilli sauce.
Like the decor, the cooking methods (especially the use of charcoal and firewood stoves) have changed little since the Coliseum first opened in 1921. "We are still here because of what we have been known for all these years - good food," says Richard Ko, the cafe's assistant manager. "Somehow the steak tastes different when it is cooked over a firewood stove."
Indeed, the Coliseum is the last of those colonial institutions that offered succour to "up-country" rubber planters in need of clean sheets, cold beer and nursery food.
During the Emergency (1948-1953), the "old Coli" became a place of refuge where white planters drowned their sorrows and swapped "terrorist" stories. The regular Wednesday tea dances were suspended.
Later, the Coliseum opened its doors to Malays, Chinese, Indians and Eurasians. An early patron was Malaysia's first prime minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman.
Before independence in 1957 such hotels - small, family-run and offering European cuisine - were commonplace throughout the old Straits settlements. Today, only the Coliseum survives; two others, the Majestic and Le Coq d'Or, recently closed.
Architecturally, the art deco building (with curious Oriental touches) could best be described as being in a state of graceful decline. Its stucco is badly weathered, the floor gritty underfoot and the furniture chipped and worn. Upstairs, the 10 guest bedrooms have changed little since Somerset Maugham unpacked his portmanteau here. With yellowing walls, dark lacquered wardrobes and iron bedsteads, the Coliseum offers none of the niceties of a modern hotel. Guests share communal bathrooms - and greasy odours wafting up from the kitchen.
Despite its appearance of neglect, the hotel is probably more popular now than at any time in its history (turnover last year was more than £600,000).
"The Coliseum is a Kuala Lumpur institution," says Charlie, one of the regulars at the bar. "I don't need to travel to other parts of the world - the world comes to me here."
For male patrons such as Charlie, a Eurasian, and his drinking pal Bedi, a Sikh, the Coliseum offers a neutral meeting place where ethnic rivalries are safely jettisoned. In a country where business and politics dominate conversation, the old guard at the Coliseum devotes itself to the study of the female form - or at least stories of past encounters.
"In Malay we call it cuci mata or 'cleansing your eyes'," explains Bedi. "We come here to forget our worries and watch the world go by. I've been coming here for 23 years. There's nothing like it in KL."
Over the years both men have enjoyed mammoth drinking sessions as well as conversations with backpackers, writers - even the occasional university professor. "There was an Englishman, a distinguished chap, staying here a couple of years ago," recalls Bedi. "When he came down to the bar he found a group of us celebrating some fellow's birthday. He tried to buy a drink, but we refused, saying he must drink with us, so he did. Such things are not uncommon here. He stayed for a couple of months. An educated man, you know."
Given Malaysia's obsession with modernity, success and the overt display of wealth, the Coliseum is a delightful and delicious anachronism. Long may it sizzle.
Coliseum Café and Hotel, 98-100 Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia (0060 3 2692 6270); from £10 a night for a double (all rooms have air-conditioning but none is en suite). The kitchen is open 8am-10pm.
