belly indulgences
J and I have been indulging ourselves, food-wise, over the last few weeks. Mainly because we know for the next few months, we won't have as much time (or energy!) to go out and a) have a leisurely dinner, b) eat with both hands at the same time, c) even sit at the dining table at the same time for a meal. I don't write any of this with any resentment, I am just being realistic. And I know that at some point all this will pass, we will adapt and enjoy the company of a little one at the dining table with us, and before I know it I will have a surly teenager who wouldn't be caught dead eating with the parents in a public place. Hah.
Sin Huat
A whisk-away (meaning I got into the car and J drove off to a mystery dinner location) meal at Sin Huat Eating House, a seafood eatery in a dingy coffeeshop (its signboard still has its old phone number with only 6 digits) in Geylang. We've always wanted to try this place but the scary crowds and long waits on the weekends always discouraged us, so this time round, we turned up just before 6pm on a weekday night and there were many tables still available. We still had to wait for the evening news to end before the auntie waitress would come and take our drinks order, though, and chef Danny appeared shortly afterwards. The ordering process was quite interesting in the way he assumed we would simply eat what was good there, and what was good that day: scallops in the shell with black bean sauce, sauteed vegetables (no need to even ask what kind of veg, there is only one kind - kai lan) with garlic, and the signature dish - crab beehoon. No menus, no recommendations, no fuss. We ordered like this:
Chef: Crab beehoon, for just the both of you?
Us: Yes.
Chef: And scallops?
Us: Yes.
Chef: And kai lan veggies?
Us: Yes.
And that was it. The food arrived, without fanfare, about 30 minutes later. Before that we saw chef Danny grab a bucket and scoop scallops from the grubby tanks that stand outside the kitchen. When they were served, they were liberally coated with a fragrant garlicky black bean sauce that was thick and viscous, a perfect complement to the sweetness of the scallops. I hadn't expected them to be served with their shells, I had imagined a kind of scallop stirfry that is common in other Chinese restaurants. The vegetables came next, crunchy if a tad oily. But the star of the show was the crab beehoon, served steaming on a large plate with orangey-red nuggets of crab roe littered about the noodles. Amazing. Although it's hard to resist tackling the crab at once, I recommend eating the noodles first, while they are still firm and coated with the delicious seafood broth and chunks of crab roe. If you leave the noodles too late, they end up soggy. After that, you can slowly enjoy the crab, eating it with both your hands, the juices and broth dripping down your fingers.
By this time, the other tables were crowded with people, and as I looked around, no one was eating anything else: scallops, crab, vegetables. The chef had decided, and it was all good.
My Humble House
I've always wanted to try this restaurant, if only because I wanted to see what a restaurant serving fancy, gourmet, and rather pricey Chinese food would be like. J and I are always willing to spend on expensive Japanese food because we love Japanese cuisine so much, but when it comes to Chinese food, we usually eat at places like Sin Huat, the grubbier the better (sometimes!). Anyway, we had some points to redeem at the restaurant which would make the wallet burn a lot less intense, and we figured we might as well have a nice long meal at a fancy restaurant before The Bun arrives.
We decided to take on their tasting menu, rather pretentiously named 'Someone is Singing Behind the Mountain' (I guess it sounds a lot better in Chinese, and maybe more poetic). Eight courses, somewhat like a Chinese wedding dinner, with a soup course, fish, meat, etc, and lovingly plated. Overall, I think that the standard of the cooking is good and that the kitchen knows exactly what it is doing. The soup we had, a thick conpoy broth with shreds of abalone and mushrooms, was very well done. So was the pork rib marinated in marmite - crisp on the outside and so tender inside it simply fell off the bone. But despite their efforts to be imaginative and experiment with some fusion cooking (there was a truffle chawanmushi that was pretty good), I was not particularly impressed nor excited about their food. Well-executed for sure, but I couldn't help thinking that a good zhi-char stall could do the same for about half the price. Still, I'm glad I got to try it, and J and I had a nice time watching the sun set over the Esplanade, and having a leisurely meal together.
Durians
The Bun had better like durians, because that's all this mom has been craving for the last couple of months. Durian season always coincides with the hottest time of the year, and I have been indulging in this sweet treat in a big way. I also love the way this fruit brings family and friends together - everyone sitting at wooden tables lining the roadside, eating with their hands and throwing the husks and seeds into giant rattan baskets that act as trash cans. The stalls disappear after the season is over, so it always feels like you're entering some magical zone where everyone comes together for this smelly, love-it-or-hate-it fruit.
J and I have always gone to the 717 Durian stall near Kovan ever since we ate a spectacular 'Super D24' durian last year. When the durian seller presented us with it, he told us that eating it would make us feel like it was our 初恋 (i.e.‘first love') which was hilarious, but utterly true: that fruit only held three large seeds, but biting into its soft creamy flesh, I could understand why he had described it that way. It was intense, bittersweet, decadent, tender, fleeting, and utterly memorable. This year, J and I waited for the right time in the season, hoping to find another durian which would make us swoon like we did last year. After missing out a couple of times because it was sold out, we managed to have one magnificent taste again last night. We made sure we went early (8pm) and we savoured every bite. This time round it seemed to have an almost alcoholic tinge to its flavour, melting with a distinct warmth upon the tongue, bitter but not exceedingly so, and with a marvelous thick and creamy texture. After eating it, I told J that it was my last one for this year and this season. Satiated. It might not have been the same as that first love (which is never to be replaced, because of the way your memory heightens the taste and experience), but it was still pretty damn great.
Sin Huat
A whisk-away (meaning I got into the car and J drove off to a mystery dinner location) meal at Sin Huat Eating House, a seafood eatery in a dingy coffeeshop (its signboard still has its old phone number with only 6 digits) in Geylang. We've always wanted to try this place but the scary crowds and long waits on the weekends always discouraged us, so this time round, we turned up just before 6pm on a weekday night and there were many tables still available. We still had to wait for the evening news to end before the auntie waitress would come and take our drinks order, though, and chef Danny appeared shortly afterwards. The ordering process was quite interesting in the way he assumed we would simply eat what was good there, and what was good that day: scallops in the shell with black bean sauce, sauteed vegetables (no need to even ask what kind of veg, there is only one kind - kai lan) with garlic, and the signature dish - crab beehoon. No menus, no recommendations, no fuss. We ordered like this:
Chef: Crab beehoon, for just the both of you?
Us: Yes.
Chef: And scallops?
Us: Yes.
Chef: And kai lan veggies?
Us: Yes.
And that was it. The food arrived, without fanfare, about 30 minutes later. Before that we saw chef Danny grab a bucket and scoop scallops from the grubby tanks that stand outside the kitchen. When they were served, they were liberally coated with a fragrant garlicky black bean sauce that was thick and viscous, a perfect complement to the sweetness of the scallops. I hadn't expected them to be served with their shells, I had imagined a kind of scallop stirfry that is common in other Chinese restaurants. The vegetables came next, crunchy if a tad oily. But the star of the show was the crab beehoon, served steaming on a large plate with orangey-red nuggets of crab roe littered about the noodles. Amazing. Although it's hard to resist tackling the crab at once, I recommend eating the noodles first, while they are still firm and coated with the delicious seafood broth and chunks of crab roe. If you leave the noodles too late, they end up soggy. After that, you can slowly enjoy the crab, eating it with both your hands, the juices and broth dripping down your fingers.
By this time, the other tables were crowded with people, and as I looked around, no one was eating anything else: scallops, crab, vegetables. The chef had decided, and it was all good.
My Humble House
I've always wanted to try this restaurant, if only because I wanted to see what a restaurant serving fancy, gourmet, and rather pricey Chinese food would be like. J and I are always willing to spend on expensive Japanese food because we love Japanese cuisine so much, but when it comes to Chinese food, we usually eat at places like Sin Huat, the grubbier the better (sometimes!). Anyway, we had some points to redeem at the restaurant which would make the wallet burn a lot less intense, and we figured we might as well have a nice long meal at a fancy restaurant before The Bun arrives.
We decided to take on their tasting menu, rather pretentiously named 'Someone is Singing Behind the Mountain' (I guess it sounds a lot better in Chinese, and maybe more poetic). Eight courses, somewhat like a Chinese wedding dinner, with a soup course, fish, meat, etc, and lovingly plated. Overall, I think that the standard of the cooking is good and that the kitchen knows exactly what it is doing. The soup we had, a thick conpoy broth with shreds of abalone and mushrooms, was very well done. So was the pork rib marinated in marmite - crisp on the outside and so tender inside it simply fell off the bone. But despite their efforts to be imaginative and experiment with some fusion cooking (there was a truffle chawanmushi that was pretty good), I was not particularly impressed nor excited about their food. Well-executed for sure, but I couldn't help thinking that a good zhi-char stall could do the same for about half the price. Still, I'm glad I got to try it, and J and I had a nice time watching the sun set over the Esplanade, and having a leisurely meal together.
Durians
The Bun had better like durians, because that's all this mom has been craving for the last couple of months. Durian season always coincides with the hottest time of the year, and I have been indulging in this sweet treat in a big way. I also love the way this fruit brings family and friends together - everyone sitting at wooden tables lining the roadside, eating with their hands and throwing the husks and seeds into giant rattan baskets that act as trash cans. The stalls disappear after the season is over, so it always feels like you're entering some magical zone where everyone comes together for this smelly, love-it-or-hate-it fruit.
J and I have always gone to the 717 Durian stall near Kovan ever since we ate a spectacular 'Super D24' durian last year. When the durian seller presented us with it, he told us that eating it would make us feel like it was our 初恋 (i.e.‘first love') which was hilarious, but utterly true: that fruit only held three large seeds, but biting into its soft creamy flesh, I could understand why he had described it that way. It was intense, bittersweet, decadent, tender, fleeting, and utterly memorable. This year, J and I waited for the right time in the season, hoping to find another durian which would make us swoon like we did last year. After missing out a couple of times because it was sold out, we managed to have one magnificent taste again last night. We made sure we went early (8pm) and we savoured every bite. This time round it seemed to have an almost alcoholic tinge to its flavour, melting with a distinct warmth upon the tongue, bitter but not exceedingly so, and with a marvelous thick and creamy texture. After eating it, I told J that it was my last one for this year and this season. Satiated. It might not have been the same as that first love (which is never to be replaced, because of the way your memory heightens the taste and experience), but it was still pretty damn great.