Entries tagged with 'Singapore'
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K.F. Seetoh and the char kway teow. Unfortunately, everything is tinted yellow because of the lighting. Photographs taken by Robyn Lee. Singapore may enforce strict rules (no smoking, no gum-chewing, no jaywalking, no littering) but the country embraces the wonders of street food. No cigarette smoke in the air, just whiffs of coconut curry and crab. For those who favor street cuisine over the white tablecloth ilk, this is it. This is the mecca for your greasy hands. Instead of embarking on a 19-hour flight, authentic Singaporean vendors did the trek themselves, arriving in New York this week. Last night's event, sponsored by Singapore Airlines among other companies, was arranged to mimic mini "hawker centers," the food huts where...
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The New York Times arrived really late to the Eat for Enjoyment, Don't Deprive Yourself party. As many serious dieters know from experience, this is easier said than done. The Times notes that people are eating more healthy, seasonal foods, enjoying them more and worrying less. To me, that's stating the obvious. If I just reach for an apple, pear, or banana every time I have neurotic compulsion to eat something, that's obviously a good thing. But it doesn't solve all of my problems. It still doesn't address my constant yearnings for ice cream, french fries, or barbecue. The only way to deal with foods like those is to eat them in extreme moderation. This week I really feel like...
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In Singapore, it is not uncommon for my grandparents' generation to speak numerous dialects, but only a smattering of English. So imagine my surprise when I heard a grandfatherly type holler at a coffee shop, "Lao ban, lai yi bei Michael Jackson." ("Boss, give me a glass of Michael Jackson.") Michael Jackson? What is this, a new type of beer? I stay to look and it turns out a Michael Jackson is no alcoholic drink, but a virtuous concoction of creamy soy milk and squiggles of immortal jelly. I haven't a clue why the black jelly is considered "immortal" (I suspect ad man involvement), but it is also known locally as chin chow, or grass jelly. Made by boiling...
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This Wednesday will be the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, also known as “Ren Ri”—the universal birthday of man. Celebrating families have been feasting for an entire week on a myriad of goodies, but the one festive staple is
Yu Sheng—a pun on the Chinese terms for "abundance and growth" which literally means “raw fish.”
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The concept of "chestnuts roasting over an open fire" is an alien one to Asians, and the notion of buying chestnuts raw and roasting them yourself even stranger—why would anyone choose to go through all that hassle when the streets are lined year-round with hawkers frying them right before you?
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I like to think I'm serious about food, but every so often, someone or something comes along to make me question the extent of my devotion. Like when a friend returned to the States from a trip home to Singapore, toting three pounds of bak kwa (Chinese barbeque pork). Stopped at customs and threatened with confiscation and destruction, he said, "I need a minute," before proceeding to eat his entire booty of pig....
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Editor's note: Wan Yan Ling, aka the Grocery Ninja, is in Asia over winter break. She checks in with a Snapshots from Asia piece filed from the sweltering heat of Singapore. You often hear about turf wars in relation to street gangs, but here in sweltering Singapore, turf wars are fought by geriatric ice cream men jostling for favorable positions along busy streets. These men show up on motorbikes with dry-ice-filled metal carts attached, staking their claims on prime real estate. With a giant umbrella for shelter from the relentless heat, they display their wares—airtight containers to keep sugar cones and wafers crisp despite the island's 99 percent humidity, loaves of cottony, rainbow-hued bread, and little Dixie cups—as well as...
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Photographs by Shimin Wong Most of us think of comfort food as fat food: creamy risottos and pastas, hearty stews, buttery mashed potatoes, mayo sandwiches, hot chocolate, cheesecake, hot fudge sundaes. In Asia, there are a host of dishes people make a beeline for when they get off a plane, return from grueling military training, or when they've had a rotten day—dishes I affectionately call "a highway to a heart attack." (A straw poll will likely turn up "lard" and wok hei or "wok's breath—the essence imparted by a hot wok to food"—as determining factors in succor-level.) One would imagine the ultimate comfort food to be riddled with saturated fat and swimming in carcinogens then. Interestingly, this granddaddy of...
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Photographs by Shimin Wong I was not a picky eater growing up and would obligingly down the chewy offal; floppy sprouts; and sea sweet, still-bloody cockles my mom, grandma, and various aunties would spoon me. So it was only a few years later, when my fussy-pants baby brother came along, that food got cute—fancy shapes and unnatural colors cute. Octopus wieners and smiley-faced hard-boiled eggs cute. Whereas I had been perfectly content with standard-issue oblong crackers, my brother would wail and fling and let no crumb pass his lips that was not distractingly shaped. It was a completely unfair situation—especially since I was deemed a big girl by then, too old to eat "baby food"—as only he got the...
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We like crisp bits, no matter if they appear in sa po fan, donabe-taki, or dolsot bibimbap, Photograph by Shimin Wong A dish you will find in various guises all over Asia, claypot rice is at its most basic—rice cooked lovingly in a vessel over an open flame. Now, I know what you're thinking. And, no, it's not just rice. In a forum populated with dotty food lovers, it's important to be specific, and what I'm raving about here is what the Japanese call okoge—the nutty, slightly charred crust of grains that sit on the bottom and sides of the pot. Okoge have been known to inspire fierce paeans and ferocious fork battles among otherwise easy-going makan khakis (Singlish...
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