Food tripping in Singapore

My heart usually yearns for the exotic. The discovery of new and exciting destinations, walking through hidden temples, contemplating old artifacts, getting lost in the streets of an unknown city… But when you’re 31 weeks pregnant like I am, adventure doesn’t come easy. In fact, adventure is restricted and perhaps limited to daydreaming from your sofa.  What does a pregnant lady do on a holiday escape? Long walks and full days of sightseeing hurt the back and forget shopping because everything just looks terrible. There is only one thing we preggos can do, and something I most definitely can do well – EAT.

Singapore was a top choice – a variety of excellent restos, different types of cuisine, different price ranges, all accessible by a short flight and in case of contractions due to overeating, a truly safe place to be. I had planned my trip to the last minute. There is an art to the food trip, with each meal carefully selected to complement each other. I’m not one of those who like to accumulate fancy awarded fine-dining joints; there has to be a balance between high and low. From the glinting silverware and crystal glasses to the dingy chairs and grimy chopsticks, a perfect medley of refinery and just a good old chow-down. It is a serious strategy for indulgence and enjoyment. I also tried to balance my oldies but goodies, favorites that I was craving with the new and exciting. And as with any food trip, I prayed that the food gods were with me, because if the tides were not in my favor, it would have been a long weekend of crushed hopes, disappointment and despair.

Molecular used right

Call me old-fashioned but when I go out to eat, I want to be nourished. Food is beautiful in our sense that it is one of the few creative and exquisite things that are both pleasurable and an essential to life. While I admire these difficult scientific techniques, at the end of the day I cannot survive on foam, air and “snow” alone. I abhor these deliriously long tastings where I come out hungry, in the search of the closest McDonald’s because there was nothing to really bite into. A good chef can master these techniques and recreate them, but only a truly excellent and talented one can discern with wisdom the appropriate times to use it. It should ultimately only be used in my opinion to ameliorate an actual dish done with actual cooking and real ingredients. Not everything deserves to be deconstructed or reinvented. Some things are just good the way they were meant to be.

Anti:Dote at the Fairmont is an interesting example. This cocktail and tapas bar uses these techniques when applicable, like the beautiful parmesan pizza, and keeps things real as with their to-die-for veal cheek, foie gras and truffle bao. The parmesan pizza was paper-thin, super-crisp with tomato powder and all kinds of fancy molecular toppings that simply worked. A melt-in-your-mouth perfect bite that left you wanting more. After a few more light tapas that were brought to our table by this young man with a big smile and a fedora, we were offered to try his special bao. Fluffy pillowlike mantou dough adorned with a slice of black truffle opening up to velvety braised veal cheek and foie gras… It was sincerely the best damn siopao I have ever had in my life. As the young man was explaining, only then did I realize he was the chef! He is passionate and enthusiastic about what he does and knows when to keep a good thing the way it is.

Jaan

One of my favorite chefs since back when I first ate at Jaan is chef Julien Royer. The entire time throughout my first meal there I promised myself I would come back and bring my husband along. A little over a year or so later, Royer has managed to make a mark on the scene, garnering #17 in Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants. I had been looking forward to this date-night dinner with my husband with anticipation and quite frankly, a little suspense. “Maybe I over-glorified it in my head?” “Jonathan might not like it…” “What if things got too molecular?” Our 11-course tasting menu with countless little amuses-bouches did not disappoint. It, in fact, made it even clearer to me that Royer is one of my favorite chefs to date and definitely one to watch because with his enthusiasm, skill, honesty and youth on his side, he will definitely go far.

Our meal from start to finish was spectacular. Bright, glittering vegetables arranged like jewels on a plate, perfect pieces of produce treated with respect, sweet raw hand-dived scallops served perfectly chilled. In an age of farfetched and sometimes convoluted exotic flavor profiles, it was served up in bold simplicity – citrus, dill, radish and some horseradish snow, which for my husband, who detests the pungent root, was a true revelation. The silken grilled foie gras served with berries, mangosteen and hazelnuts, which at first sight made our noses scrunch, expecting something sickeningly sweet as most places do it, then brought smiles to faces as we discovered the beauty of its tartness, the charred undertones, the bitter radicchio. Sadly, foie gras is almost often served up like a dessert, with sugary compotes. Most people forget it is still a savory dish and my old French Cordon Bleu teacher chefs’ words ring constantly in my ear as we made the duck à l’orange: “Eet eez not desser! Eet mus not be sucré!”

The flurry of fantastic food continues, balancing delicate gastronomic treatment with frank rusticity made playful by some molecular techniques – a smattering of snow, a sponge of parsley, a glossy pearl – culminating in homage to the chef’s agricultural roots with the most beautiful hay-roasted pigeon, presented to us tableside, personally by the chef sporting a big smile of satisfaction, held up like an offering worth its weight in gold. Disappearing into the kitchen, it returns to us transformed from its pastoral nest to a sophisticated plate adorned by truffled barley and chanterelles. A breast as tender as butter and that glorious amber golden leg, crisp skin, juicy meat, the crunch of fleur de sel… Who needs silverware? All decorum went out the window as I picked it up with my fingers and nibbled away.  That’s what good food is truly all about… something you can really sink your teeth into. That splendiferous perfect bite that lets everything else around you disappear.

Pollen

It is, however, in the sweet domain of desserts where I feel molecular techniques fare the best. While neither my husband nor I are truly dessert people, our lunch experience at Pollen was frankly enjoyable, but especially when we had our sweet endings at the dessert bar. We had a beautiful light lunch with refreshing dishes served up in stunning landscapes on our plates and we were about to forego dessert until we were invited to move to the dessert bar. I allowed myself to be seduced by the Rhubarb and Pistachio dish. A nice pannacotta of rhubarb, rhubarb marinated in rhubarb, yogurt ice cream, yogurt sponge, and yogurt snow, a bold pistachio puree and crunchy sweet and salty whole pistachios... everything prepared a la minute, right in front of us, explained in detail by the pastry chef Alex McKinstry. How he made the sponges, how they make the snow, his inspirations…  It was an intimate experience and made the desserts even more enjoyable.

Sin Huat

Getting your hands dirty

In stark contrast to these fancy joints I like getting my hands dirty, sitting somewhere authentic, eating straight-up good food. A visit to my favorite Sin Huat in red light district Geylang was a must. I will bypass the details as this joint hasn’t changed a bit! Still the best damn noodles, that amazing homemade black bean sauce on perfectly cooked scallops, gorgeous prawns and the wonderfully in-your-face staff that make the experience so delightful. From chef Danny in his dirty kitchen clothes taking your order, to his wife scolding my friend for ordering too much rice so he could save space for the noodles, to their son carrying over our dishes. The food gods were once again with me because due to heavy afternoon rains, I wasn’t sure we’d make it. It also had to be damn good because I would never hear the end of it as I was feeding three very hungry, very picky Europeans who, after eight liters of Tiger beer, sauce-stained hands and sweaty shirts, all unanimously agreed it was a great experience.

Burnt Ends

That evening I received an email from the super-hyped-up Burnt Ends. “Hi! Yes, we do take reservations for lunch but unfortunately we’re full for Saturday.” Noooooo! It couldn’t be. This was 

the perfect round-off to my itinerary. The hip new eatery. My husband says calmly, “Look, let’s just casually show up and see. If it’s full we’ll eat elsewhere.” It may have been indigestion but that night I had horrible nightmares fighting for a seat at an overcrowded restaurant. Fighting with clients, with the staff, pushing my way in… I woke up angry and frustrated. “I don’t want to go there anymore. I had nightmares.”  Jonathan said, “Look, let’s eat our breakfast, take our time, leave at our own pace and let’s see.”

We finally get to Burnt Ends at 2 p.m. As I step out of the taxi, the first thing that catches my eye is this sign that says lunch service ends at 2. Oh, crap. I knew it. “Let’s just go in anyways,” my husband urges. Service is winding down, a few diners are left, a waiter comes up to us and we sheepishly ask, “Can we still eat?” “Only two?” he replies. “Go ahead!” We couldn’t have asked for a better experience. The  frustration, the suspense, the pleasant surprise, the no-nonsense food and friendly chefs preparing this right at table level. Smoked quail eggs, a smoke-grilled octopus served plainly with just salt and lemon, the beautiful whole roasted fennel with burrata and orange oil… That sandwich.

The pulled pork, jalapeño, sloppy pile of goodness was plopped down in front of us. As I took a bite, as if on cue, Stevie Ray Vaughan’s song Pride and Joy came on, with its bluesy rock strains reflecting the southwestern flavors of the sandwich. It was a little crunchy, a little sweet from that pillow-soft brioche bun, a little spicy, smoky and meaty. It was “my sweet little baby” and I was it’s loverboy. My husband closed his eyes in sandwich heaven. It was so good it had its own soundtrack, my head bobbed up and down with the beat, each mouthful of simple happiness. That ultimate, perfect bite. No adornment, just made with love and patience. I said a prayer of thanks to the food gods… It couldn’t get any better than this.

Up close and personal

On the way home, I declared that I officially had twins. My real baby and a giant food baby. As I was contemplating all the vegetables I would eat this upcoming week to detox, I realized that apart from being deliriously good, all these places had one thing in common – intimacy. It is no longer enough to have a simple open kitchen; in these places the glass windows have been shattered. A private moment with the chefs, from Carlos Montobbio with his fedora at Anti:Dote, to Julien Royer presenting us the pigeon personally. Alex McKinstry at Pollen chatting casually about his little rojak macaron. Chef Danny in his grimy clothes taking our orders personally and Sin Huat and chef Dave Pynt in his rocking leather apron, caressing his oven like it was a winning thoroughbred filly… All these moments made the experiences extra-special. There’s no hiding behind closed doors, the passion and hard work is exposed in plain sight. A trend that I hope is here to stay.

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For more information visit Anti:Dote at http://www.fairmont.com/singapore/dining/antidote/; Jaan at http://www.fairmont.com/singapore/dining/jaan/; Pollen at http://www.pollen.com.sg/; Sin Huat at Lorong 35, Geylang, Singapore; and Burnt Ends at http://www.burntends.com.sg/.