You may notice a few changes. I archived the site this week and then deleted the majority of posts. I kept some for reasons apparent only to myself. I also removed the ability to comment. I have no interest in the “social conversation”. Like the social contract, it’s an artificial construct.

I’m also filling in a few holes. Our May-June Paris trip wasn’t fully documented in all its gastronomic glory. Today, over two months later, I posted about Michel Rostang. Next week I’ll write about Passage 53, Le Quincy, and then our most recent trip to Singapore (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four).

After that I’ll get back to steady posting. Whatever that entails.

Today’s post discusses our first true Singaporean feast—Red House Seafood Restaurant (1204 East Coast Parkway, #01-05 East Coast Seafood Centre), recommended by our wonderful local “handler”, Mags, who joined us and then ordered while we munched on boiled peanuts and chugged Tiger beer.

We started off with Crispy Fried Baby Squid, each tiny cephalopod crunchy and juicy and incredibly addictive. What a way to whet our appetites. I can’t imagine a better bar snack.

Next up were Steamed Scottish Razor Clams with Minced Garlic—although Mags referred to them as “bamboo clams”. The brininess of the tender clams was offset by the sweet garlic sauce. An absolute hit. Thankfully there was one razor clam per person; I can’t imagine the fight that would’ve broken out had there been a couple extras.

One of Red House’s signature dishes followed: Prawns Wok Fried in Creamy Custard Sauce. The honey-sweetness of the butter-based custard was a little surprising—what was I expecting with the word “custard?”—and, honestly, a little too much for me, despite its spicy undertones. Even when paired with the whole prawns (crunchy shell, juicy head), the sweetness was only slightly tempered. The custard never approached cloying; it was just sweeter than I like (though thankfully nowhere near as sweet as cereal prawns, the only dish in Singapore I didn’t like).

The dishes really started to come thick and fast now, but we were up to the challenge.

The Deep Fried ‘Yu Tiao’ stuffed with Cuttlefish Paste was another hit. So far on this trip I’d enjoyed my fair shair of yu tiao (deep fried dough, also known as Chinese cruller), but I’d never experienced it as a dish unto itself. Coated with sesame seeds, the yu tiao was crispy and savoury with cuttlefish flavour.

Our favourite dish of the evening appeared next: Crab Tossed in Black Pepper. Singapore may be known best for its chilli crab, but the black pepper crab is more memorable. Rich with butter and spicy with the deep-heated complexity you find in great peppercorns, this was the best crab dish I’ve tasted. The Sri Lankan crab meat is tender and sweet and marries perfectly with the pepper sauce. I wish we’d ordered a second, but there was still more food on its way.

Steamed Whole Scallops with Minced Garlic was wonderful, but my tastebuds were still lingering over the black pepper crab.

People were beginning to get full when the Garoupa Steamed with Superior Soya Sauce appeared, which allowed me to claim the best part: the cheek. Awesome. I ended up eating about half of the grouper; it was perfectly moist and melted on the tongue.

The Crayfish Wok-Fried with Sambal was another winner; its crunchy batter imparted a spicy zing.

Everyone was grateful that Mags ordered the Sautéed Baby Kai-Lan in Oyster Sauce, a perfectly executed dish, the kai-lain tender without any of that overcooked limpness common to greens under less watchful eyes.

And then came the Crab Red House Chilli Stew, the famous Singapore chilli crab. Don’t let the name fool you: this is a tomato-based sauce, thick and sweet, with only a little spice from chilli. Ribbons of egg add to the sauce’s creaminess. The Sri Lankan crab was tender, meaty, and rich. Is it the best crab in the world? It may well be.

I’m really happy to have tasted chilli crab, and I’d never turn it down . . . but on this sultry evening, my heart fell in love with black pepper crab.

A thousand thanks to Mags for a memorable dining experience and insight into the real, non-Disneyfied Singapore.

Seafood flavours today’s post . . . and will continue to flavour the rest of my culinary tour of Singapore.

Rojak

Before I wax euphoric about rojak, let me quote one of my favourite Singapore food bloggers, ieatishootipost:

If you ever have to describe the ingredients that go into rojak to a westerner, I am sure none of them would want to eat it. I mean seriously, does fruit salad dressed with a sauce made from fermented prawns sound delectable?

No, it doesn’t . . . but to this Occidental, rojak may have been my favourite discovery during ten days of non-stop eating in Singapore. So taken was I with rojak, that I don’t have a single picture of any of the rojaks I ate, only mouth-watering memories.

Sweet, salty, spicy, sour . . . syrupy, crunchy, chewy, juicy . . . a symphony of flavours and textures.

My favourite rojak of the trip came courtesy of Toa Payoh Rojak (Old Airport Food Centre, Blk 51 Old Airport Road #01-108). This rojak was also the most savoury; there was no disguising the sauce’s base of fermented prawn paste. Mixed into the warm viscous sauce tinged with chilli were cuts of pineapple, cucumber, jambu air (“water apple”), you tiao (deep fried dough, also known as Chinese cruller), and tau pok (deep-fried tofu). Before being served, the uncle topped the salad with ground peanuts.

More than a few locals noted their surprise at my love for rojak. I don’t understand how someone couldn’t be smitten by this brilliant, slightly unusual sweet-savoury salad.

Fishball noodles

One description guaranteed to turn off the Occidental is “fishball.” It conjures abattoir-floor horrors usually associated with street corner hot dogs . . . made worse by the fact seafood’s involved. Sorry, but I’ll take fishballs any day.

Intensive research directed us to Hui Ji Fish Ball Noodle – Yong Tau Fu (Tiong Bahru Market & Food Centre, #02-44 30 Seng Poh Road) for seriously shiok, authentic fishball noodles.

Hui Ji offers tah, or “dry”, fishball noodles; the soup is served on the side—a delightful broth sweet with the fresh flavour of seafood, not the slightest tinge of “fishiness”. It tasted like a whiff of clean ocean breeze. Hui Ji also offers a variety of noodles. I asked the customer ahead of us her preference and she pointed toward the mee pok (flat rice noodles). When in Singapore, eh?

In addition to the handmade fishballs, there was her giao (fish dumplings), fried fish cakes, pork slices, crunchy bits of deep-fried pork lard, and spring onion, in a light gravy of vinegar and fish sauce. The fishballs had a wonderful light texture, not the rubbery texture I’ve read comes with factory-made fishballs, and, again, a fresh flavour reminisent of clean ocean breezes.

For my first taste of fishball noodles, I can’t imagine doing any better than Hui Ji. Another culinary revelation.

To be continued . . .

Today’s journey takes us from China to India without ever leaving Singapore.

Bak kut teh

I love breakfast, but not the bacon-and-eggs variety enamoured by my Occidental brethren. Give me phở or bak kut teh any day.

OK, I admit it: I’m a broth man. And Ng Ah Sio Pork Ribs Soup Eating House (208 Rangoon Road) had me at the first slurp of its Teochew-style peppery broth.

Bak kut teh literally translates as pork rib tea and there are as many creation stories as there are ingredients that make this wonderfully complex broth: Chinese herbs, cinnamon, cloves, dang gui (female ginseng), fennel seeds, garlic, star anise . . .

The spare ribs jutting out of the broth were tender and full-flavoured, but I didn’t really care about them. The broth’s the thing. Whenever I came close to draining my bowl—and thus revealing the residue of garlic and crushed Sarawak peppercorn at the bowl’s bottom—an “auntie” magically appeared with a metal pitcher of steaming broth and asked if I’d like more. Let me quote Molly Bloom: “yes.”

In addition to the ribs, we ordered plain white rice, shiitake mushrooms in a soy broth, you tiao (deep fried dough, also known as Chinese cruller) for dunking in the broth, and Cai Sin, a soy-braised leafy green with rather thick yet easily eaten stems. The Cai Sin was the other revelation of the morning; some of the best greens I’ve eaten have had some sort of Chinese heritage, and we devoured the Cai Sin with the same speed we slurped the broth.

Bak kut teh isn’t bak kut teh without the teh—in this case, “kung fu” tea brewed in a clay pot. Our auntie recommended the Xiao Yue Gan, a sweet liquorice-tasting tea that provided the perfect accompaniment to the broth.

Mutton biryani

After reading ieatishootipost’s review of Bismillah Biryani (50 Dunlop Street), I had no choice but to go to Little India in search of Singapore’s best mutton biryani.

The restaurant’s not much to look at from the outside—though you can’t miss the red vinyl banner hanging below the signboard quoting “an authentic customer statement” about Bismillah’s greatness—and it’s not much to look at from the inside, either—though, thankfully, the wall-mounted fans do keep you cool . . .

But I wasn’t looking for ambience . . . I wanted Singapore’s best biryani—a rice dish whose name comes from the Persian word “birian” which means “fried before cooking”—and though I can’t vouch that it’s the best, it was damned tasty and I wouldn’t hesitate to return.

The Basmati rice—the grains remained separate, the sign of authentic Basmati—was fragrant with spices and the mutton was tender and flavourful, though missing the gaminess the word usually conjures. A thin yet savoury curry gravy and crispy pappadums were served on the side. There’s often the tendency to over-spice Indian food, but the chef manning the biryani pot had a steady yet assured hand—amazing when you consider that no ghee is added to flavour the rice.

Bismillah Biryani touts its food as “healthy.” Don’t let that stop you from trying it the next time you’re in Singapore’s Little India.

To be continued . . .

Seventeen years ago, novelist William Gibson called Singapore “Disneyland with the death penalty.” It’s time to retire Gibson’s conceit. Disneyland never had such wonderful food. And honestly, perhaps the death penalty for drug trafficking would curb America’s childish enthusiasm for illegal narcotics. (That, however, is another post.)

My next few posts will instead concentrate on my favourite drug: food.

Now I’d read how much of a food destination Singapore was, but I didn’t believe it until I went. Today’s post will focus on two new discoveries: chicken rice and laksa.

Hainanese chicken rice

Often considered the national dish of Singapore, Hainanese chicken rice is a deceptively simple looking dish of boiled chicken and white rice served with sliced cucumber, dark soy sauce, chilli sauce, and ginger.

Located in Singapore’s most famous hawker centre, Maxwell Food Centre (South Bridge Road and Maxwell Road), Tian Tian Hainanese Chicken Rice is touted by many to be Singapore’s best. The queue that forms before the stand opens at 11 a.m. certainly testifies to its popularity.

Indeed, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of flavour in the two main components as well as the tenderness of the skin and the juiciness of the chicken. Too often chicken that’s been boiled ends up as dry and tasteless as chalk.

Our local “handler”, however, steered us in the direction of Wee Nam Kee Chicken Rice (Novena Ville, 275 Thomson Road) with the promise, “This place serves the best chicken rice in Singapore. I have been coming here since I was young.”

And you know what? Wee Nam Kee’s chicken rice edged out Tian Tian’s. Of course, the ice-cold Tiger beer I washed the chicken rice down with on that blisteringly hot and muggy day may have contributed to this decision.

Having not been brought up with chicken rice, I don’t know exactly what constitutes a perfect plate; all I can go on are my Occidental taste buds and Wee Nam Kee’s tasted just that little bit better. I’d still go back and eat at Tian Tian without reservation, and I certainly recommend Tian Tian to neophytes. If you get the chance, however, give Wee Nam Kee a try, too.

Laksa

I must admit to only trying one stall’s laksa, a spicy coconut milk-based noodle soup, on this trip—Depot Road Zhen Shan Mei Claypot Laksa (Alexandra Village, Fine Taste Eating House, 119 Bukit Merah Lane 1)—but it was so damned delicious I went back a second time (instead of searching out other laksa stalls). Research guided me to Zhen Shan Mei for a particularly thick and creamy laksa (read: rich) which is also served in a claypot—something rarely seen anymore, but excellent at keeping the soup hot, which is, of course, what you want on a sweltering day.

The flavours of coconut milk, dried shrimp paste, and sambal dominate (especially since I added more sambal before sitting down), but every few slurps the sharp briny bite of cockle cuts through the spicy richness. In addition to the cockles, the bowl is full of noodles, prawns, shredded chicken, deep fried tofu, and bak you pok—deep fried pork fat—which adds a delightful and necessary crunch.

This was my favourite breakfast of the trip . . . until I tasted bak kut teh . . . and then I realised I’d have to become a Hobbit to justify embracing the second breakfast.

To be continued . . .