Category: Restaurants
Rooted to our seats, my gaze arrested by the graceful movement of the man clad in white, his attention wholly trained on the regal wooden counter that separated us.
Spoon in hand, the figure donned with a tall chef’s hat carefully nested mounds of flesh-pink chunks into shallow crevices punched into a hollow transparent acrylic tube.
Somma, Bar Bon Funk, Artichoke, et al. While New Bahru had only come into existence five months ago, it’s impossible to miss how the location has speedily grown into the prime estate for intimate hangout and date spots. It’s essentially an enclave of the most voguish third places currently in Singapore.
Cuisine — something beautifully individual, a salient ingredient of culture. Some could even argue that food bears the heavy burden of being the most accessible gateway to a culture’s rich heritage for outsiders. Such an uptake can be challenging but also revealing of a restaurant’s genius, like in the case of the new Club Rangoon. Continue reading “Club Rangoon”
A prepossessing little cottage stood at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac at Dempsey Hill, a few minutes left of Dover Street Market. It’s clad in a pristine coat of white paint, crowned with a cloche of grimy-clay terracotta tiles, and adorned with a hanging wooden sign, charmingly weathered and bearing the words “Morsels”. Continue reading “Morsels”
The discourse around Singapore’s best restaurants can be rather lopsided. More often than not, the central area monopolises the plaudits and other neighbourhoods — even beloved enclaves such as Tiong Bahru — are mostly neglected.
Wrinkled, subfusc curtains fell from the ceiling, halting an inch before touching the exposed grey floor. Cream-coloured surfaces covered the space, and strokes of suave mahogany stalked it. That’s how the scene is set at Bar Bon Funk, New Bahru’s stylish new denizen.
Perhaps the once-dogmatic Michelin Guide sees its relevance challenged by this epoch of decentralised, digitally-dominated gourmet hunting. Nonetheless, it’s hard to argue the prestige of a Michelin star still holds sway over many, especially those convinced of the romanticism in fine dining.
My meal at Tambi is best characterised by one vivid moment — when the signature bone marrow murtabak descended upon the glossy turquoise tiled counter, sitting assuredly in formation with a mound of tangerine-hued slivers. A mound of kimchi.
Sat on the cusp of Carpenter Street, the voguish Kee’s beckons to the busy Clarke Quay vicinage with a brightly lit sign, electrifyingly yellow and embossed in a bodacious tilted typeface.
There was always little reason to go to Balestier during the day. It’s a different scene when the sky turns dark though, as the litany of beloved Bak Kut Teh eateries come to life and a lingering peppery scent spices up the vicinage and sedices hordes of supper seekers like a siren song. Continue reading “Bao Er Cafe”
