Dio Asahi
By Dio Asahi for Eat Drink Asia. It’s a little past seven in the morning, and the stall is already breathing. Steam rolls off a deep metal pot near the front and fogs the glass where a row of fish cakes hangs on hooks. A ladle knocks against the rim. Somewhere behind me, a stool…
It was a Wednesday, a little after 6pm, and somewhere behind me a pot hissed on a portable burner. The broth climbed the sides, popping softly against the metal, while a child at the next table leaned forward to watch. His mother caught the back of his shirt and pulled him gently away. That was…
I almost walked past Shinjuku Restaurant. That is easy to do in Cuppage Plaza. Step away from the polish of Orchard Road and the building feels older, quieter, and much less interested in catching your attention. Shinjuku sits on the ground floor at 5 Koek Road, behind a frontage that gives little away about the…
By Dio Asahi for Eat Drink Asia. It’s just past noon, and the lifts keep opening. Suits spill out, lanyards swinging, phones already halfway to their ears. But inside Gochi-So Shokudo, tucked into One Raffles Place, something else is happening. People are sitting down. Actually sitting. Chopsticks lifting, shoulders dropping a little, the room warm…
I walked into Kintamani Singapore with one question in mind. Buffets ask food to wait. Rendang, sambal, grilled meats, and fried seafood all sit under heat while diners circle the spread. That is not necessarily kind to Indonesian dishes built around texture, reduction, chilli, coconut, and freshly cooked aromatics. So I was less interested in…
The first time someone asked me for the national dish of Indonesia, I answered nasi goreng without thinking. It seemed obvious: fried rice darkened with kecap manis, often topped with a fried egg, familiar from warungs and late-night street food stalls. That answer is not wrong. It is simply too small. Indonesian food is regional,…
By Dio Asahi for Eat Drink Asia. It’s mid-morning, and the cook doesn’t look up. He stands over a rectangular pan, copper worn to a dull gold at the edges, and pours a thin skin of beaten egg across its surface. It hisses. Steam rises, warm and faintly sweet, and he tilts the pan just…
It always starts the same way for me. Someone lifts the lid off a plate of chilli crab, and the whole table leans in. Fingers reach before spoons do. Somebody tears the first piece of fried mantou, drags it through that sticky, sweet-savoury sauce, and the rest of us stop talking for a second. That…
I found it by accident, the way you find most things in a mall basement. I’d come down to Plaza Singapura’s B2 for something else entirely, drifting past the usual food-court noise, when I caught the smell of star anise and beef bone coming from a corner. I followed it. And there it was —…
By Dio Asahi for Eat Drink Asia. It’s a Saturday evening, and someone across the room is carrying a birthday cake. The candles are lit, the walk is careful, and a whole table turns to watch. Plates clink. A child laughs somewhere. The room at Carousel, inside Royal Plaza on Scotts, isn’t quiet — it…