Eda Wong
I almost walked past it. I’d been looking for the old triangular building, the red-and-white one you see in every photo of Keong Saik, the one that made Tong Ah feel like a landmark before you’d even ordered anything. But that’s not where it lives anymore. It’s a few doors down now, at 35 Keong…
The oil is already hot when she reaches for the leaves. It’s late morning in a kitchen off a quiet lane, and a woman I’ve been watching stands over a blackened wok, tearing bitter gourd leaves by hand into a small heap. The garlic hits the oil first, sharp and loud. Then the leaves go…
It was close to eleven at night when I finally sat down. The kind of hour when you’re not really hungry so much as unsettled, when you want something warm in front of you more than you want a proper meal. Al Mubin’s food court at Block 407, Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10, was still…
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…