Eda Wong
The bowl arrives before anything else does. Steam lifts off it in slow ribbons, carrying the smell of ginger and something warmer underneath: the round, boozy note of hua tiao wine settling into fish. I lean in before I even pick up my spoon. The broth is pale gold and cloudy, thick enough that it…
I didn’t grow up eating raw fish. For years, sashimi felt like something you learned to appreciate rather than something you loved. Cold, foreign, a little intimidating. Then one afternoon, at a quiet counter, a chef placed a single slice of chutoro in front of me and said nothing. I ate it. And I understood.…
By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia. It’s not quite eight, and the pastel-blue shophouse is already awake. Kopi cups clink against saucers. A ceiling fan turns slow overhead. Someone folds a newspaper at a marble-topped table, and the man behind the counter moves without hurry, sliding buns across in a rhythm he’s clearly done…
The tom yum arrived first, and the first spoonful hit sour and hot at once, lime and chilli chasing each other down the throat. This classic Thai dish features a spicy sauce and aromatic herbs that awaken the taste buds straight away, setting the stage with its bold flavors. Then the pineapple rice came, sweet…
The duck arrived and made a sound before I’d even touched it. Not the plate, the skin. When my fork pressed against it, there was a small, dry crackle, the kind you feel in your fingers before you hear it. That’s when I understood I wasn’t eating a soft meal. This was something with edges.…
By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia. Steam curls up from a tray in the back of the kitchen, and the whole room smells green. Pandan, crushed and knotted, pushed through wet cloth until the leaves give up their colour. An auntie leans over the tray with a spoon carved from coconut shell, dark and…
By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia. It is not yet seven, and the uncle at Heap Seng Leong has the pot going. He works the sock strainer over the tin cup with both hands, dipping and lifting, dipping and lifting, coaxing the coffee through the worn cloth. Steam rises between his fingers. The smell…
It was raining the afternoon I went. Not the polite kind, the sort that drums against the glass of Guoco Tower and makes you glad you’re already underground. I hadn’t planned on soondubu. I’d planned on something quick, something I could eat between the errands piling up in my head. But the rain does something…
By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia. The lift doors open on a floor of Cuppage Plaza that has seen better decades. Peeling signage. A corridor that smells faintly of old carpet and cigarette smoke drifting from somewhere. Then a door slides shut behind me, and the noise falls away. Inside Hanashizuku Japanese Cuisine, the…
I used to think lunch in the CBD was a lost cause. You get an hour, maybe less. The lift takes ten minutes just to reach the ground floor. By the time you’ve queued, ordered, and found a corner to eat in, you’re already checking the clock. For a while, I gave up and just…