My Chinatown Update |
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Ever so often, I have to perform this habit, which can also be seen as a ritual- head to Chinatown food centre on a fine lazy Sunday morning for breakfast or brunch. It was a naturally occurring phenomena for me since the padded shoulder pad 80’s. I’m not just as “cheena” as they come, gastronomically, but a fussy, greedy Cantonese lad. So last Sunday was no different but it has been a long while since I revisited this food centre at block 335 off Smith Street, just to see how things had changed, who had come and gone, what new fangled stuff are they touting and drawing them with, and usually so, how standards and quality have slid. One quick look-see around and the usual suspects still attract the same old long multi generational queues. I had to get in line and back in touch with the Chinatown Sunday breakfast show and tell.
I first had their rough grained, yet soft and a very comforting porridge almost twenty years ago. Their toppings were generous and there was always a steady stream of patient regulars who would first buy a stick of you tiao (dough fritters) and eagerly await to dunk it in their mixed pork porridge. It was no Cantonese style creamy congee (which I is good if your teeth and gums no longer can handle regular porridge) and their ingredients was fresh and well marinated and tenderized. Honestly, last Sunday was a bit of a let down for me. It was still appealing overall, but somehow that bowl of fish porridge had lost that, what The Tipping Point author Malcolm Gladwell call the “blink”- it could not win me over in that first indescribable ten seconds with it’s fuzzy logic appeal. I spotted one irritation, the fish was not properly thawed- it came in a well cooked clump buried under the still rough yet smooth porridge. But many in the queue weren’t complaining.
For some odd unknown reasons, our makanmatas (food cops) nor myself had never came across this stall all this years. But this time, I went up close and personal, so much so that the elder aunty gawked at me when I asked one more question than I should. I needed to, as their stewed duck was one of the prettiest I’ve seen for a while. It was smooth, pimply and the skin was nicely taut and not torn. I could taste that dark brown hue it came in. The oldest auntie “chopper” was a simple cause of the long queue- she chopped the ducks calmly, steadily and not as fast as she should. She even tenderized it with the cleaver so she need not shock the wrist joints when cutting it. The meat was tender and moist and the “lor” or stew, had all the usual five spices and hints of cloves with a good grade soy sauce, but none of the spices stood out and it was perfectly balanced. If like me, you adore the duck necks, order it, as it goes fast. They even leave the head in with a bit of the brains and the tongue intact. The soft smooth neck was one of the best I’ve ever had.
Edwin Tan left his bakery job in a five star hotel and tossed his family’s Nonya makan secrets onto a wok here. I believe he is the first true Baba hawker touting real Nonya food ever since Jeffrey of Bongs Nonya Restaurant gave up his Balestier Road coffeeshop stall some years ago. You can tell his true blue heritage by what he sells- the satay ayam stew, the Nonya chap chai and even a black sambal sotong, stuff you won’t usually find in a lookalike nasi padang stall. His ikan assam pedas came as it should- sour, spicy and just rich enough. I hate it when some gentrify them with a pinch of sugar. I noticed he did not offer the anthem ayam or babi buah keluak and he reverted with some unfathomable answer about customers in Chinatown not being used to it. If you happen to show up at his stall, go tell him that he can’t earn his Baba makan stripes if he’s not offering buah keluak or even itek sio (coriander seed stewed duck).
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