Noodle Masterpieces: Celebrating the Craft

I do not remember the first bowl of prawn mee I ever ate. But I remember the smell: that deep, roasted-shell darkness that fills a coffee shop before you have even sat down. My grandfather used to say you could tell a good prawn noodle stall from the doorway, just by breathing. Over the years,…

Dashimaki tamago is one of those dishes that looks quieter than it is. At first glance, it is just a rolled egg. Pale, soft, sliced neatly, often served beside steamed rice, miso soup, and grated daikon radish. But once you make it, you realise it is not really about eggs alone. It is about how…

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 thing I noticed at Pagi Sore Indonesian Restaurant was the smell. Not the sharp, showy kind. Something slower: coconut milk, lemongrass, chilli, fried egg, and the deep warmth of spice paste drifting out from a wood-heavy dining room while Far East Square kept moving outside. I walked over on a Wednesday evening, just…

I don’t remember when fish soup became my quiet meal. It just did. On days when I couldn’t decide what I wanted, when the weather turned grey, when I needed something warm that asked nothing of me, I’d end up hunched over a bowl, breathing in the steam before the first spoonful. I’ve eaten a…

By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia It’s late afternoon, and the river is the colour of weak tea. A woman crouches beside a small clay stove at the edge of the bank, feeding it slivers of charcoal. Smoke lifts, thin and grey, and drifts toward the water. On a bamboo skewer, a whole fish…

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,…

Ask most Singaporeans to picture Japanese curry and a familiar image probably comes to mind: a plate of rice beneath thick brown gravy, perhaps with a breaded cutlet sliced neatly across the top. It is rich, sweet-edged, comforting and, by now, almost as recognisable as ramen or donburi. Head to the fourth floor of Fortune…

I had not planned to eat at Meokja by Jungga. I was walking down North Bridge Road on a Tuesday, somewhere around the awkward hour between lunch and dinner, when I caught the smell of something frying and the low clatter of a kitchen working hard. I looked up, saw the sign, and my feet…