We went in search of the original Laksa in Malaysia - here's what we found

Sometimes, if I'm wearing white or am feeling a little clumsy, I'll tuck a napkin into my collar to save my shirt the indignity of orange speckles. Such is the danger of eating laksa.

It's my lunch favourite, so it's a peril I face regularly in Australia. But here in Malaysia, there's another threat every time I order - not knowing exactly what I'll get from the large range of laksa options.

Although they fall into two broad groups - the asam laksa with a clear soup of mackerel and tamarind, or the cloudy soup with a spiced broth enriched with coconut milk - there are then choices of thick or thin gravy, different sized noodles, and countless additions like cockles or even pig-blood curd (much tastier than it sounds, by the way).

It wasn't always this difficult. Before all these variations appeared, there was the very first laksa, the original recipe that started it all, and I've decided to try to find it (with or without napkins, if necessary). Although there's debate about exactly where it was invented, the most popular theory suggests the city of Melaka, about 120 kilometres south of Kuala Lumpur ... so that's where I've come.

Around the edge of Melaka's historic centre is the legacy of the various European powers that controlled the city for more than four centuries, turning a settlement along one of the world's busiest shipping lanes into a pulsating trading port. But although the stone fort atop a hill, the imposing Christ Church, and the rich-red-painted town hall are all worth visiting, these Western powers didn't create the cuisine that flourishes and nourishes today. So, putting my back to the colonial symbols, I cross a bridge over a small river and head into Melaka's old town, a multicultural melting pot. In the tightly packed streets of two-storey shophouses, temples and mosques, immigrants from countries like China and India mixed with local Malays and European traders.

The first laksa was essentially an amalgam of two cuisines - the coconut milk and spices of Malaya with the noodle soup of China. Walking around, I see the same combination in the architecture, where pastel paints are coupled with ornate tiles and intricate woodwork. Also born from this cultural blend was an ethnic group called the Peranakan, which emerged from the 15th century when Malay women married Chinese traders. It's the Peranakans who are credited with inventing laksa.

To understand a bit more about them, I start on a street called Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock, dubbed "Millionaire's Row" because it was once where the upper class lived. By the 19th century, the Peranakans were some of the wealthiest in the city, taking advantage of better commercial opportunities from the British. One of their mansions has been converted into the Baba & Nyonya Heritage Museum, offering an insight into their elegant lifestyles.

The museum's name comes from the honorific for a Peranakan man (Baba) and Peranakan woman (Nyonya) and - inside - you'll discover how both lived. Only men were allowed in the reception hall, decorated by tall panels of silk embroidery and filled with wooden furniture inlaid with mother of pearl. Up the central staircase adorned with gold-leaf carvings is the games room where women would gather to play Mahjong. And on the other side of the ground floor's open-air courtyard, a large kitchen is full of benches and stoves. Is this where laksa was made? Perhaps, but it's not in use anymore so doesn't help my quest.

Instead, I wander a block away to the famous Jonker Street which runs the entire length of the historic centre. It was once an important commercial hub of old Melaka and its heritage-listed shophouses are a reminder of that time.

A sign at one restaurant is advertising "Nyonya laksa". I now know enough to understand this is a laksa made by a Peranakan woman - a likely candidate for that original recipe. So, in I go.

The curry paste has given the coconut milk an orange hue, thin noodles are mixed with bean sprouts and prawns, half an egg floats on one side while tofu puffs are sponging up the broth. I happily slurp it up straight away, orange speckles be damned - and guess what? It's delicious! I pay the four dollars it costs and proudly congratulate myself on finding the original laksa ... until dinner later that evening when I decide to have Nyonya laksa again from another restaurant. And. It. Is. Different!

The broth still includes curry paste and coconut milk, but it's grittier and has a bit more of a fishy base. The noodles are thicker, there's no egg and there is chicken instead of prawns. I ask around and it turns out everyone makes their own version of Nyonya laksa here in Melaka. If there was ever a single recipe that started it all, it's likely been long forgotten as hundreds of different variations have been created.

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So, in a sense, my mission has failed. There probably is no original laksa to discover any more. But the visit has also been more successful than anticipated, as it's led me to the heart of Melaka's heritage, to uncover a city where there are no originals anymore, just a fascinating blend of cultures that each share their best to create something really special ... including an iconic dish.

Getting there: From Kuala Lumpur, a direct bus takes about two hours and costs about $4.50.

Staying there: Good budget hotels start from about $30 a night. Liu Men boutique hotel is set in a row of converted shophouses. Rates from $160 a night.

Explore more: visitmelaka.com.my

The writer travelled at his own expense.

Pictures: Michael Turtle; Getty Images