Wendy's - the newest chick in town

Popped into Wendy's for a really quick lunch on the go at Liat Towers amid pouring rain.

Good thing Liat Towers wasn't flooded at the basement again!

Had the Ultimate Chicken Grill Combo set ($7.20). Was glad for an option for grilled chicken since Macs took off their grilled option a while back.

Ultimate Chicken Grill Combo



Sadly, for all the hype created with Wendy's in town, the burger wasn't much to die for.

Although the chicken breast fillet was pretty ample, the sandwich was too dry overall. A few miserable pieces of lettuce leaves and a dollop of their special sauce on crumbly bread.

But the fries were pretty good. Crisp on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. And thick enough to provide satisfaction with each bite.

Nonetheless, I think I'll return to Macs for my McSpicy burger instead. Especially with their lunch time value meals -- definitely worth it in every way.

How to drink your cuppa. And other Italian quirks.

As I happily ordered my usual cappuccino to go with my eggs benedict brunch, Kristian laughed at my Singaporean coffee-drinking habits. Italians would find it offensive, he joked.

My friend, Kristian, is Austrian by descent, but practically Italian by nature since he's spent the last decade or so living it up in Venice as an industrial designer. (He's supposedly pretty well-respected and regarded in his field, but despite his many attempts at explaining his work to me, I still don't quite get it!)

Anyway, Kristian educated me on the art of drinking coffee, Italian style.

Lesson number 1: Italians don't drink coffee with full meals, much less after them. Coffee is entitled to its own meal slot.

Lesson number 2: Italians only drink cappuccino in the morning. And at the most with a croissant or a brioche (both of which I smugly pointed out to him were French breads. The Italians should be having biscotti instead! He agreed. Ha.)

Lesson number 3: Italians don't have coffee past 1 or 2pm in the afternoon. A shot of espresso and that's it for the rest of the day.

Unlike us ill-breeds who have our kopi fix at every imaginable hour, paired with condensed milk or evaporated milk or lots of sugar. And taken with all sorts of local hawker food.

The Italians would find our bastardised coffee habits abhorrent :)

The other thing Kristian showed me was how to express satisfaction the Italian way.

Eccellente. (Pronounced eh-chay-lent-tay) With a flourish of the hand in a straight line from left to right, forefinger and thumb together facing you, the remaining 3 fingers in a vertical line up facing across, as if pulling a zip.

It's equivalent to our local expression shiok.

I added a little zest to my zip motion by ending with my fingers higher up, a bit like a 45-degree angle line.

No no, Kristian corrected me. It has to be a straight line, like zipping something across. He demonstrated again.

I zipped an imaginary line across from left to right and curved round my back as far as my arm could bend. I'm zipping up something! I quipped and grinned.

My Austrian-Italian teacher could only shake his head in amusement at me.

Maybe I will try it one day, when I'm sipping a cappuccino at 4pm at an al fresco cafe along one of Italy's renowned streets, and do a little zip motion all round back to see what kind of reaction I'll get. I'll probably get thrown out onto the pavement by the waiter :)

[Kristian just told me that al fresco in Italian just means "in fresh air" but not outdoor seating like we refer to it here in Singapore. Talk about lost in translation! The proper translation to refer to outdoor seating should be al aperto -- in the open.]

Random trivia: Illy, Italy's (arguably) best coffee brand, puts its coffee beans through a glass tube with light sensors on both ends to determine the quality of the bean. The glass tube then tilts either to the reject or accept pile depending on the test results. Wow!

Monkey Business

My grandma used to take me to MacRitchie Reservoir pretty often when I was a kid, and I have fond (albeit a bit vague now) memories of picnicking and running around the area.

Funnily enough, my most vivid memory of MacRitchie is the very painful 10km run that the school made us endure through the wooded greens more than 10 years ago. Surely I was scarred :) 

So it was with much anticipation that my family decided to troop back to the old reservoir for a Sunday mid-morning walk and picnic. 

Much has changed, yet much has remained the same. 

For starters, there is a triple-storey parking lot operating on the ERP system that now stands on what used to be a simple flat open-air carpark that functioned on old-school punch coupons.

Development spares nothing, not even nature parks. Then again, the whole concept of "park" was created because of development. Hmm.

Renovation is also ongoing at one end of the reservoir, although to make way for what I have no idea.

That being said, the rest of the reservoir remained much the same as I foggily recalled it to be -- calm, tranquil and serene.

We couldn't have asked for more beautiful weather - clear, blue skies with just the right amount of clouds to provide that perfect picture opportunity.

In fact, there was a 25km marathon taking place and we happened to walk right into the last leg of it, and past the finish line!

MacRitchie is notorious for its brazen monekys that run amok through its protected soil and these monkeys decided to take a walk on a Sunday morning as well, basking in the human attention they received.  Some of these monkeys are more daring than humans -- stare them in the eye and they'll stop in their tracks to stare right back at you.

Careful where you leave your food too....we heard a man mimick a tiger roar to chase away the monkeys descending upon his picnic lunch. Pretty hilarious actually, but it worked!

For the first time in my life, I saw baby monkeys, not more than a few months old, walk around on their own, with their mothers watching sharply close by lest any alien being come too close for comfort.

The monkeys also bring new meaning to the term "piggy-back". Check out how they carry their young. Almost like an anti-gravity gymnastic act!

Caught a mother-child pair, where the mother was acutely aware of the human paparazzi surrounding its nursing child, and kept shifing its back towards us to shield the little chimp.

Parental instincts remain the same, regardless of what creature you are, eh? :)

Along the way, I also found this little signboard, hidden somewhat behind foliage. Bet many Singaporeans don't know this little snippet of history.

As the noon-day sun gradually began to creep up upon us, we found our way into a fairly new covered rest area that had a cafe called Mushroom. Perfect for our lunch time break since we were hot and sweaty after the walkabout.

The cafe is very simple, serving modest local fare under colonial style ceiling fans, but surely a welcome reprieve for the many hikers/ runners/ families that thronged its counter.

Pity though that the view from the cafe was blocked by a powergrid substation and a little hilly bump forming the dam of the reservoir.

We ordered the mee siam, laska and nasi lemak (all $3.90), as well as some fried snacks ($1.20 each) to try.

Nasi Lemak.
To give credit to the cafe, the egg yolk was perfectly intact when served,
but my grandma made a dent in it before I had a chance to take a photo!

 

From left: Fried chicken wing and chicken curry puff



The nasi lemak came generously served with a fried chicken wing, fish cake, ikan bilis (anchovies) and a sunshine egg with excellent chilli on the side. However, the rice was not as sufficiently fragrant as coconut rice in nasi lemak should be. Nonetheless, good value for money.

Nasi lemak literally translated from the Malay language means "Rice fat". Little wonder since the whole plate is topped with sinful sides!

The mee siam and laksa (no photos unfortunately since my ravenous family descended upon the dishes like starving vultures) were both pretty good too, served with several pieces of peeled prawns each.

But I think our unanimous favourite was the fried chicken wing -- crispy on the outside, succulent on the inside and just the right amount of taste. Mmmm...finger lickin' good!

We spent a good part of an hour seeking shelter at Mushroom, enjoying the lazy midday warm breeze and flipping through the Sunday papers. Perfect way to wind down a weekend.

I'm going to go hunt for more lazy weekend hangouts for my Sundays. Will share them soon!



And they lived happily ever after. Or not?

As I was planning a trip back to the US to be a bridesmaid for a really good friend of mine, it struck me the inane number of weddings I've attended in the condensed span of the last 2 to 3 years.

I'm at that generational crossroad, where people uncheck themselves from the singlehood list and sign up for (or in some cases, get drafted into) the married or married-with-kids list.

And the thought of it, is pretty freaking freaky.

Think about it: overnight, your life changes.

You acquire a new set of parents, a new extended family on top of your own. As if family drama isn't enough in one family (and every family has its fair share of drama), you now get double dosage, like it or not.

I've heard horror stories of in-laws, even before they officially become your in-laws. Every bride has an anecdote about her mother-in-law-to-be. It seems almost a baptism of fire to suffer a scuffle (metaphorical or not) with the other woman in your husband's life.

You can't just up and splurge on yourself because you feel like it. You can't just have your own social life, do what you want to do, whenever you want to do it.

You now have responsibilities. That's a pretty darned heavy 6-syllable word.

There's mortgage to be paid, financial planning for a lifetime of together-ness, future education fees for children yet-to-be-born.

People wish you a lifetime of happiness when you say "I do"; from a young age, we're all conditioned to believe that happy ever after is a given when the princess finds her knight in shining armour. The End. 

But they fail to talk about life after "The End", when the knight falls into sloppy disarray, becomes a fat, lazy couch potato and snores in his sleep. Worse still, he drools.

Or the princess becomes a naggy squat, constantly berating her useless husband for not doing this or that, retreating into the abyss of auntie-dom.

Let's not even get started on the children. As far as I've heard / seen, it gets worse before it gets better. And that's if it even gets better.

And it all starts when you take that leap of faith to spend the rest of your life with who you think / hope is your soul partner (well, that's my hope at least).

I am, of course, stereotyping and oversimplifying the nuances of marriage.  But I'm trying to make a point here.

I attended a wedding recently, and during the homily, the priest said to the couple, "If you don't remember anything from my homily today, just remember these 4 phrases, all 3 words each.

I was wrong;

I am sorry;

Please forgive me;

I love you.

And if you're right, just shut up."

And the congregation erupted in laughter. It was telling just by watching the nodding and knowing looks of the married couples present, that this was no laughing matter, that underneath the surface, this was indeed a much-needed antidote to complacency in a relationship.

Wise words indeed, particularly from a man who had taken a vow of chastity for the rest of his life.

Relationships are a constant work-in-progress. I do find it rather amusing that as human beings we spend effort and time on our jobs, on securing that next paycheck and upgrading ourselves to be better managers at work, more competent at our domain jobs. But we don't do the same for our relationships.

Then again, I'm guilty of such treason myself on occasion.

How many couples do you know have gone for couple enrichment programmes in the course of their marriage? How much investment do we put into our  relationships with unquantifiable ROI?

Little wonder that the romance fizzles out, the husband is more interested in his soccer game and the wife constantly asks where is the love.

Lest I fall into that trap (and horror of horrors, become an auntie), I'll be sure to be 100% ready when the time comes. Because it's going to take the next 50 years and more to keep it going. And I damned well be willing (and wanting) to do that.

This wonderful thing called Friendship

I'm blessed. Very blessed, in fact.

For many reasons of which I am well aware of. But today, in particular, I was made acutely conscious of one specific beautiful gift.

The gift of friendship. 

A really good friend -- let's call him Jack (not his real name because he once told me in jest that if he ever made it into my blog, he wanted to remain anonymous) -- was a real gem of a buddy today. 

Jack and I first met almost 10 years ago. We were then signing a good part of our youth to what would be our first career together in the same company.

We first started to bond as newbies, plunged into a local environment and struggling to adjust to a corporate world, after having spent a few years in the US and having our brains liberalised by 15-hour school weeks, freedom of speech and global travels.  

We both loved (and needed) our morning coffee fix and a jaunt to the the pantry soon became our workday morning routine. Our friendship was built on 15-minute conversations each day, over steaming mugs of coffee and eyes still beady from lack of sleep.

Even after our careers took divergent paths, Jack and I kept in touch. He was my go-to buddy in the office, and even outside the office, our friendship was (and still is) solid. 

Jack knew that in the last few weeks, I was having a really rough patch dealing with home care matters for my mother and juggling my full-time job.

He had a few days of time left to himself before he started a new job. He messaged me today to offer any help, be it running an errand or watching the house.

I was so grateful. There were so many things I had to do at the same time, but I couldn't be everywhere all at once. I felt bad taking him up on his offer on his day off, but I knew that I needed the help.

Jack didn't have to offer his time. He could have just offered a word of support, or even none at all. 

In fact, he even had to make a detour because I initally gave him the wrong address to run an errand.

But he did it all without grumbling, not even jokingly. And his simple act of kindness gave me the space to take care of other pressing matters.

Man was not created to be a lone creature. Even God fashioned woman from man's rib to provide companionship. And that's what our existence is really all about - our relationships with our fellow human beings. 

Not just boy-girl relationships, or parent-child relationships. But also the simple, fundamental concept of platonic friendships.

Of like-minded people who may not have had the natural privilege of being related to one another, but who love you not despite your flaws but in spite of them.  Who stand by you in your best and more importantly, in your worst, of times; put an arm around your shoulder and help you hobble through the pain and difficulty when the terrain gets rough. And who don't ask for anything in return but the intangible gift of your friendship.

Thank you, Jack. You know who you are :)

Italian Nannies

Well that's what it sounds like and looks like to me.

Actually, the restaurant's proper name is Italiannies (see the resemblance to Italian Nannies??)

Located at 111 Somerset (the revamped Singapore Power building), the Italian restaurant self-proclaims authenticity with the mantra "We cook more than we eat".

Although, shouldn't a chef eat what he cooks to know whether it's any good?

Well, I love my Italian (country, food...and men!) and a sampling of Italiannies was certainly in order.

Ordered the Bruschettona for an appetiser. Italiannies' version was a more elaborate take on the humble bruschetta - toasted focaccia topped with tomatoes, capers, onions, arugula leaves and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese.

Bruschettona

It looked really good. But unfortunately the taste test came up short.

The bread was too dry and hard.  Tomatoes were not sweet because they weren't ripe enough, and Italiannies' used the local tomatoes instead of the much sweeter (and more suitable) vine tomatoes or roma tomatoes. There was insufficient olive oil in the mix and just not enough punch of flavour.

Mediterranean food has so much natural goodness and flavour, the explosion of flavours in your mouth should be a natural occurrence. But this dish was just bland.

Clearly Italiannies' motto about cooking more than eating backfired on them in this case. They've been cooking too much to do a taste test.

Gave them a second chance with their Pesto and Prawns pasta dish. We asked for linguine noodles instead of the recommended fusili.

Pesto and Prawns with linguine

Thank goodness this dish saved them some.

Generous serving of prawns paired with a very moist and tasty pesto sauce. The pasta was cooked perfectly al dente with the right amount of chewiness. I have to say the flavours of this dish came together very very nicely.

A pity though, for a self-proclaimed authentic Italian restaurant, they don't make their own pasta noodles from scratch. 

Their fresh fruit shakes were not bad either, a welcome reprieve from a humid evening in Singapore. These are essentially fresh fruit juices blended with ice (not to be confused with their fruit coolers which are served with soda water).

Strawberry and mango fresh fruit shakes

We tried the mango and the strawberry fruit shakes. Both were very refreshing and thirst-quenching, although I personally preferred the mango one more for its stronger fruit oomph.

Overall, I wasn't particularly enthralled by the quality of my meal, and service was also mediocre. On several occasions I had to wave my hand frantically before a manager noticed me and sent a waiter/ess scurrying over.

Doubt I'd go back there again, until food standard improves....

Photos taken with Nikon D5000

Hari - Sedap! - Raya

One of the best things about Singapore is the multi-racial hodgepodge that makes up our 5 million population.

Yep, you read that right. 5-freaking-million people on this little island of a little over 600 sq km. Although at the rate we're reclaiming land from the sea at every possible coastline, one day we might find our north coast adjoined to Malaysia in the same way we merged 7 little islands into one big Jurong Island.

Anyway, back to the point of this entry -- multi-racialism. And all the public holidays that come along with recgonising a myriad of races and religions. Who can complain? :)

Well, Hari Raya Puasa happens to be a new favourite of mine.

A - because it's like Chinese New Year but I don't have to be slaving at home cutting vegetables or cleaning the house or hosting visitors; B- because I get to be the visitor and eat and sit and shake my legs.

Ha. Lest I sound like a bigot, it's really because of the amazing food that the Muslims churn out on their big feast day.

Thanks to my colleague Joh, this is my second year savouring his wife's homecooked delicacies in the comfort of their beautiful home.

Hari Raya Puasa (also known as Eid in the Western hemisphere) marks the end of the Ramadan month of fasting. Ramadan is actually the holiest month in the Islamic calendar, believed to be the month that the Qu'ran was revealed. As one of the 5 Pillars of Islam, the period of fasting is supposed to burn away all sins.

Joh said he lost 5kg after fasting for a month!! That's a lot of sins! :)

So in celebration of that, his wife cooked up a storm for all their guests.

And boy, was I spoiled. Beef rendang, lontong, curry chicken, mutton curry, udang....mmm.....

One of the yummiest snacks on the table was this ikan bilis and peanut keropok (anchovy and peanut cracker). Excellently fried to a perfect thin crispiness, the whiff of fragrant ikan bilis and peanuts catches your breath when you bite into one...

But a celebration is only as sweet as its sweetest offerings, and there were definitely enough sweet goodies to go around at Hari Raya.

My favourite at Joh's house is the kueh kukus which literally means steamed cake. It looks a bit like the traditional English fruit cake but without the alcohol and the heaviness usually associated with the British invention. 

Kueh Kukos (centre focus) and other delectable goodies

I'm pretty sure that the first thing I ate when I entered the house was a slice of kueh kukos, as was the last thing I munched on before taking my leave. Lost count of the number in between :)

And of course, as with all festivals, the most important thing is to visit your friends and relatives to celebrate life together. What's the meaning of happiness if there's no one to share it with??

Here's one of my favourite photos of that afternoon. Featuring Jimmy's adorable (and photo-happy) daughters, Jacelyn and Danielle. That's what a good party does for people - puts a smile on their face! :)

Now I'll have to wait another year before I get to have another helping of beef rendang and kueh kukos....

California Dreamin'...

I've been walking past this not-so-well-known-as-its-neighbours cafe-ish place called CA California at Dempsey Hill several times now and have been yearning to give it a try. Especially since they have this huge-as-a-donkey banner swinging high above its entrance proclaiming to have the BDBH (Best Darn Breakfast on the Hill....or something like that).

Funnily enough, we ended up going there for dinner instead one night, when M and I were as usual undecided and un-agreed (I know it's not a word but it catches the meaning!) on where to go. And suddenly DING! I remembered that there was this new place that I had yet to set my paws on.

CA actually shares the same shop front as Ben & Jerry's, so don't be surprised to find yourself overwhelmed by rowdy families and over-hyper ADD kids when you enter on a weekend, mostly on the B&J side of the place (thankfully).

CA takes up maybe a third of the whole restaurant space, and has comfy high booth seats, a bit like old-school American diners but set with a country-side (read: wood instead of vinyl) touch. I like :)

Extensive menu on all things American (think sandwiches, burgers, pastas, pizzas), spoiled for choice.

We decided we needed some veges to detox and a fresh salad sounded like a good idea.

Ordered the California Harvest Salad ($11). Mesclun greens with tomatoes, avocado, peaches and dressed in orange vinaigrette, served with a slice of walnut toast topped with cream cheese. Sounds enticing right?? Exactly. It got me at the word "avocado".

Salad was excellent. Enough said.

M needed some meat and the menu had a special item of BBQ Baby Back Ribs ($26). Suited his fancy and the fries on the side suited mine just nicely too.

We were very pleasantly surprised at the full rack of ribs that was served, with a tangy marinade which was less sweet than, say, Tony Roma's. They even threw in a spoonful of spicy pineapple salsa on the side if you wanted more kick with your meat.

I think the critical test of any baby back ribs dish is whether the meat falls off the bone easily. CA's ribs passed the test with flying colours! The pork itself was succulent and tender and needless to say, M polished off the whole plate without much help.

I was so enthralled by the sandwich page of the menu and settled for one of their chef recommendations -- Smokin' Turkey and Mango ($12). Let me just say - the sandwich was HUGE.

Sliced turkey ham generously heaped onto a homemade tomato focaccia bun and partnered with fresh mango, rocket, tomatoes and honey mustard dressing. I think just looking at the sandwich when it arrived made me salivate....

The sandwich was good, but I thought that the honey mustard was a little too overwhelmingly tangy. Which is strange because I adore that yellow sauce and can eat it with anything usually.

CA also sells their homemade artisan breads for you to take home, which I think I will do the next time. That tomato foccacia bread in the turkey sandwich was yums....

Photos taken with Nikon D5000

A Toast To Inspiration.

I was so inspired after hanging out with my pal, Nick, that I had to write this straight away.

I love talking to Nick. Or rather, I love listening to him. When he launches into almost any topic, especially causes that he takes special interest in, I can literally hear the passion gushing out of his words. And I mean like literally. And his energy for the subject is really infectious, so much so that I can feel the osmosis of excitement as I sit on the opposite side of the table. I mean, heck, it's not even my cause but I'm already getting enthusiastic about it just listening to him gesture animatedly in his geeky glasses.

Tonight, Nick was trying to sell me his concept of an Artgig (he scribbles it on a sheet of paper, one word with a capital 'A'). Mind you, it's not an art exhibition, he says. I stare at him blankly.

An art exhibition, says Nick sagely, provides the same experience to anyone no matter what time or day the person comes to the exhibition. The set-up remains the same, the art pieces don't change.

An Artgig, on the other hand, is a performance. A person who comes it at say, 8pm, will have a totally different experience from another who comes at 10pm. Because the show is constantly changing. A good performance entertains, Nick says. But an excellent performance inspires. And that's what we're trying to achieve.

Nick wants to do an Artgig.

At this point I'm getting it. But what's driving him to do this?

Conversations. Nick says simply. We don't have conversations anymore. People correspond with one another, sure. But we do it through text messages, email, facebook...not face-to-face conversations. When was the last time you had a heartfelt conversation with another human being?

An Artgig tells a story, someone's story. It gives the audience and the artist a chance to interact with one another, talk about the art piece, hear someone else's life experiences. And we touch each other's lives in turn.

Nick's putting up some photo pieces (he's a great photographer by the way); a chef friend of his is cooking up a thematic food storm, and another friend is throwing in paintings. They're trying to find a way to send all proceeds from the gig to Pakistan to aid the flood victims.

He scribbles the theme for me on the sheet of paper where he has already drawn mind maps and bubbles and arrows all over. "It's the Simple Things". And it'd be great if you could contribute something to the gig, he continues.

Me? Wow. An art show? I mean gig. But I've never done something like this before. Nick looks surprised. Surely this must be right up your alley, he says. You'd definitely know how to appreciate something like this. And I need someone to help me organise it too.

I hesitate. I feel like this is so culturally arty-fied that it totally falls out of my realm of reality. I haven't felt so passionate about a cause in a long time, not since I left college, and spending all that time in the corporate world can make one forget about the finer things in our human existence. Listening to him made me nostalgic for that. Come on, he jokes, it's not like you're that old you know.

We drift onto other topics over our dinner food. He gives me some tips on how to manipulate my camera's capabilities to achieve different shots. I feel so enlightened that I hurriedly scribble down some notes on the napkin.

As I fiddle around with the camera experimenting with my newly acquired skills, I muse that I could do a series of photos of my mum. Although it would be amateur of course. Do it, Nick encourages, it would be cathartic for you too.

Before we part, Nick casually throws it back at me again. So how? says he, Can you help me with the gig? I need someone to back me up on the planning and marketing and getting the word out.

And just like that, I'm now part of the show. See how inspiration works?

We all need to find people who inspire us. I'm a convert.

Chapati, Chapati, Before It's Too Late

One of the best hidden gems of local cuisine is actually stowed all the way inside Malaysian territory in Singapore. Paradox? Not really.

Before the month of May this year, I suppose most Singaporeans (especially the younger generation) did not know much about the Tanjong Pagar Railway Station, much less even noticed the colonial low-rise building situated along Keppel Road. I must admit I was one of those ignorant many, even less forgiveable since I work in close enough vicinity to the area.

A legacy from British colonial days. Inside the railway station.
The mural on the right wall reads FMSR - Federated Malay States Railways

Although sitting right smack in the middle of Singapore's prime business district, the land which the railway and the station sit on actually belongs to KTM - Malaysia's national rail company.  The historical events leading to this peculiar arrangement of land sovereignty between both countries hail back to the days of British colonial occupation, when Singapore was part of Malaya before gaining independence from the Federated States in 1965.

A much disputed political (and sovereign) issue between the neighbouring countries, the railway land matter finally came to a hilt earlier in May this year, when the respective Prime Ministers agreed to move the existing railway operations to Woodlands by 1 July 2011, leaving behind the current plot of land for Singapore's proprietary development.

Little known to most people, the station actually houses several Malay and Indian hawker stalls, ranging from prata to Ramly burger, Indian rojak and my favourite....chapati.

But with the impending re-development of the heritage station building, all these food stalls will have to pack up and leave. That means only one thing - eat chapati before it's too late! 



Not unlike the more commonly seen naan and roti prata, chapati is an unleavened flat bread originating from the Indian subcontinent. Chapatis are made from wheat flour, water and ghee (the word ghee is actually dervied from Sanskrit and refers to traditional Indian clarified butter -- it instantly ups the yum-factor on any South Asian dish but...also ups the fat content by far greater proportions as well!)

My favourite chapati stall is situated all the way inside, right next to the railway tracks. Relax - you don't need your passport to eat there even though you're technically in Malaysia!

The chapati is made fresh on the spot - if you're early enough before the lunch crowd streams in, you can see them rolling the dough and laying them to cook on the tava (flat skillet).

The chapatis are always served warm, and best eaten with a host of other dishes a la nasi padang or cai peng style. I totally dig the keema -- a minced lamb stew of sorts with potatos, peas and carrots, and a slight dash of spice for that perfect kick.

Keema (right front) goes best with fresh, warm chapatis

More traditional dishes like curry chicken, sambal sotong, beef rendang etc can be found here. Just point at your dishes, tell them how many people are sharing, and they'll know how much to serve up.

Pair your meal with one of the best teh halia (milk ginger tea) around town. I like mine with ice - takes the heat off the weather and the spice in the food :)

Be warned -- although the food doesn't look like much, many small dishes make a large and plentiful meal. And don't forget, the chapatis will expand in your stomach. I'd say 2 chapatis is usually sufficient to keep you sated for a while.

Heaped mound of freshly fried "vegetable bombs"

And if you're still feeling the munchies after your chapati meal, pick up some "banana bombs" or "vegetable bombs" (as I endearingly call them) from the stall next door. These are typically fried dough balls, rolled in with either bananas or julienned vegetables. There're also curry puffs, kueh kuehs and goreng pisangs to suit your fancy. You definitely won't miss the array of fried snacks on display for your picking!

The part that really makes the meal "whole" though, is the ambience. Sitting right next to the railway tracks along the platform, at old stone and brick tables and plastic fold-outs, you'd feel like you stepped into a time machine and headed back to the 1980s (not least because the station needs a long overdue makeover).

But it adds to the old-school charm, and given that the rest of Singapore around this Malaysian enclave is growing at a speed no one can compare to, it's nice to come to a place that time seems to have forgotten...for now.

My Beef with Steak - Part 2.

My bunch of buddies like to hit up Morton's Steakhouse at Mandarin Oriental everytime one or the other is back in town for a visit. Since I've never really been a steak fan (until recently, that is) and don't believe in paying $100 and more for a slab of meat I'm not particularly interested in, I've never joined them for a meal there.

This time since I was on a steak roll, I decided, "Heck, why not give it a try once in my life?" And so I dutifully trooped down to Morton's on a weekday evening. The earliest reservation we could get was at 8pm, and I was surprised at how full the restaurant was.

Did you know that Morton's is listed on the New York Stock Exchange?? And the last stock price was somewhere around US$4.40 range. Wow. Never occurred to me that the ROI on cow was that profitable. Then again, people do pay $100 and up to eat a slab of meat. So there.

By the way, Arnie Morton, founder of Morton's, is also the father of Peter Morton, who owns the chain of Hard Rock establishments, amongst a slew of other steak restaurants. Talk about a chip off the old block.

Anyway, dinner at Morton's is an entire elaborate and somewhat wayang affair. (For the uninitiated, wayang refers to Chinese operas with very dramatic performances with exaggerated costumes, make-up and actions.)

First they serve their signature onion bread -- which really is this huge fluff of a dome that everyone plucks chunks out of ala communal bonding. Mmmm....I love my carbs and that bread was GOOOOOODDDD.....a nice crisp top with a beautiful freshly-baked sheen, and warm, fluffy and soft on the inside.

Next, we wait for the waitress to come and offer us the menu. But the waiting takes a while, think it was more than 20 minutes before she rolled a trolley around and proceeded to introduce the different cuts of beef available and the specials of the day.

Now, I know that it's not easy serving tables, and on top of that, having to memorise all the different specials available and regurgitate them with a smile. Problem was, I couldn't understand a word that the waitress was saying, and only managed to catch the occasional "Morton's" and "special" and "today". None of which were particularly illuminating descriptions of how I could have my beef and eat it too.

As the only uninitiated Morton's patron, my buddies did the ordering. We ordered one Steak and Seafood Menu set and a Porterhouse steak a la carte to share amongst 3 of us.

For our set menu (S$95), we picked a Caesar salad to start, Jumbo Lump Crabcake for the seafood dish, and Potato Skins for the side. The steak was a single cut filet mignon -- medium.

We picked the Porterhouse (S$98) for variety because it gave us both the tenderloin on one side, and the striploin on the other. Also done medium.

I'm going to digress for a while here. figure all of us could do with a basic introduction to cow parts and what gives each slab of meat its "cut". Here's Steak Cut 101 (courtesy of Wikipedia no less):

Steak cuts
(Source: Wikipedia)

The Caesar salad surprised me. Not least because I've never been a fan of Caesar (the salad, not Julius Augustus) and in most places, the lettuce comes wet and sloppy dripping with too-watery dressing. At Morton's, not an issue. The anchovy-based dressing was a perfect consistency and coated the lettuce in just the right amount. Mmmm.

Jumbo Lump Crab Cake
(Photo source: Morton's)

It took another 20-30 minutes for the main dishes to arrive. First I tried the Jumbo Lump Crab Cake. I am a HUGE fan of crab cake, having enjoyed several years of US East Coast (famous) crab cakes when I was abroad. Funny though, for a country so proud of its crab dishes (Chilli Crab, Black Pepper Crab etc.), we haven't really claimed a local version of crab cake yet.  

Morton's Crab Cake lived up to its standard. Moist and chunky (real) crab meat held together in a lightly-browned patty. Ohhh. Give it to me again!! I would certainly go back for the Crab Cake, if nothing else. Nowhere in Singapore have I managed to get my hands (and mouth) on something so crabbily good.

(By the way, although the photos are from Morton's website since I didn't have the fancy camera on me, I guarantee that my food turned out exactly as they look in the photo.)

My buddy asked for English mustard to go with the Porterhouse and Filet Mignon. I took a swig of that yellow paste and the blaze shot right through my nose! Like when you eat too much wasabi with your sushi and that through-the-roof temporary numbness and dizziness overcomes you.

Oh, but when that shock tided over, the mustard made for an excellent companion with the steak. Funnily enough, although we ordered both steaks done medium, I felt they were bordering a little on the medium rare side. But the meat was tender, juicy, very tasty (considering there was no marinade or gracy) and delicious.

Porterhouse Steak - tenderloin on one side, striploin on the other
(Photo source: Morton's)

As far as cuts go though, I think I prefer the Filet Mignon. Something about that boneless slab of meat so perfectly tender and a perfect size too (well you can't get too much of it simply because the cow only has one tenderloin and the Filet Mignon is cut from the most tender part of it).

Morton's Legendary Hot Chocolate Cake
(Photo source: Morton's)

Dinner isn't complete, of course, without Morton's Legendary Hot Chocolate Cake. In essence, it is a warm lava cake, firm on the outside, oozing chocolate liquid on the inside, with a scoop of Haagen Daz vanilla ice cream. 

The first taste was melt-in-your-mouth-over-the-moon delicious....oh the combustion of warm cake, hot molten chocolate and cold ice cream was an indescribably enjoyable sensation. But of course, there's a reason why they teach you about diminishing marginal returns in Econ 101....after a few more mouthfuls, it started getting a little too sweet for my tastebuds. Good thing there was 3 of us to share - I couldn't imagine finishing a whole plate on my own!

The meal ended costing us S$255 in total, which wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. That being said, for a place so renowned for its beef, I wasn't blown away by the steak, particularly given the hefty price tags that came along with them. But I will definitely consider coming back for the Jumbo Lump Crab Cake if I'm having a craving and feeling generous with myself.

Ironic, since this is Morton's The Steakhouse (not the Crab Cake House). I think I'll head over to Admiral Bar & Grill whenever I'm in the mood for a steak. Same size, quarter of the price. It's more than enough for me.