Thaksin Beef Noodles - I

Truth be told, I'm getting a little bored of Singapore food. When I first came here, I was impressed with the variety every hawker-centre seemed to offer. After nearly two years here, I have come to a paradoxical conclusion - that mostly it's the same sort of variety they feature. Go to your first food court, you'll find at least ten different kinds of stalls. Very impressive. Go to the next one, you'll once again find ten different varieties of stalls, but at least six in common with the first one. Go to your third, fourth and fifth, and gradually the truth dawns on you - like an expert cardsharp the city's been dealing you the same set of outlets all along without you realising it!

Few hawker-centre stalls in Singapore rise above the average. Some exceptions have carved a niche for themselves through dint of sheer culinary excellence, and aided largely by word-of-mouth advertising. The legendary No-Signboard Seafood Restaurant has made a remarkable transformation into a chain of upscale restaurants. Some like Sin Huat Seafood Restaurant have remained true to their hawker-centre origins, though they charge heftily - a plate of Crab Bee Hoon sells for S$ 45, no less! Still others plod on with their old ways, charging reasonably, largely unknown beyond a select circle of foodie-loyalists. The beef kway teow shop on Lorong 9, Geylang still offers a near-ambrosial experience at five Dollars, but how many know about it?

These shops have all taken decades, literally, to achieve their present eminence. In contrast, Thaksin Beef Noodles is clearly in a hurry. The sheer outré cheekiness of the name is enough indication of this. Set up a Thai (to be precise, Thai Muslim) food stall and name it after the most controversial Thai around, what could be a more surefire way of attracting attention? The brazen note also finds reflection in the tagline, admittedly nowhere near so funny - "We are bullish about beefing you" (italics in original). Below the main signboard at the Seah Im branch lies a second, smaller one. This contains mention of the other branches (two others listed, and as far as I know at least one more not stated); and a gloat about press coverage ("5 Totally Independent & Unsolicited Editorials (sic) in 3 years").

Thaksin is situated in the eastern half, towards the adjoining Harbourfront MRT station. Very few Chinese outlets in this part; most seem to be Halal. Just a coincidence, or was it planned that way?

The Seah Im Food Centre is located next to Telok Blangah Road (and the elevated West Coast Highway running above it), right opposite the HarbourFront Centre.Thaksin offers a startlingly limited menu. It comprises all of two main items, listed as "Beef Noodle" and "Pad Thai Fried Kuey Teow". Both of these are available with a variety of trimmings and garnishes, but the only distinct side-dish on offer is rice! Perhaps this tightly focussed menu is part of their gameplan - targeting a (very) niche market. We can draw credence from the curious legend right where the bill of fare abruptly ends: "Traditional Thai Beef Noodle Soup served with succulent beef cooked with herbs & spices WITHOUT the use of tenderizer preservatives or added MSG." Informative, despite the idiosyncratic construction. Correction, not even very informative. Because the first time we went there we couldn't figure out which of the two items it referred to! This was of course in my days of relative ignorance.

[Continued in Part II]

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Policy Update

As regular readers may recall, the FoodScapes blog was born in response to an attitude that is steadily distancing us from our roots. Best summed up by the Hindi adage that privileges eating mangoes over counting trees, it embodies not so much a love of success as a contempt for all that is extrinsic to one's myopic objectives. The realm of food plays host to arguably some of the most virulent manifestations of this phenomenon - think faux-ethnic and other 'trendy' eateries intent solely on exploiting prevalent fashions to make a quick buck. In conscious reaction to this, this blog has set out to understand food in its larger frame of reference; it thus addresses not only the proverbial mango, but also the number of trees, the kind of trees, the location of the orchard, and all other such circumstantial details that impart meaning and context to the fruit.

I have come to realise that confining this blog to only food can be counterproductive. Some of my most interesting foodie adventures have occurred in the course of travel. And addressing just the food part in isolation from its larger background, namely my travel experiences as a whole, surely defeats the very purpose the blog was set up for! Take my recent trip to Kelantan in north-east Malaysia, the main cause of this present self-realisation. The deep impact the expedition had on me was due as much to its wonderful people, its culture, its way of life generally as to its food. Indeed, people, culture, and food intermesh so deeply and profoundly that it actually hurts to write about just one in isolation from the others. It follows naturally that the blog will remain meaningful only if I expand its remit to cover travel in general as well.

There is another reason for this policy change. A few months ago I acquired another camera, a DSLR this time. Pundits brand the Canon EOS 450D an "entry-level" model, but I strongly feel that's a load of hooey. Considerable differences exist between it and the next model the 50D, but upon close inspection these differences are what I consider peripheral to the core of photography, and certainly to the kind of photography I enjoy doing - people, travel, urbanscapes and so on.

Yet another layout redesign, within months of the previous one. I am very comfortable with the present one. True, it's a simple design, does not incorporate either the stylistic cues or the techniques I have devised over the recent months. At the same time, it is uncluttered, well spaced, and generally easy on the eye. I think I'll stick with this one for some time.

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Sinar Pagi Nasi Padang

At half past eight in the evening, Geylang Serai Food Centre wore a deserted look. It is a huge place, mainly a wet market around whose periphery lie enough food stalls to comprise a largish hawker centre in their own right. By evening the wet market activities grind to a halt, as do most of the food stalls. The action shifts further southwest along Geylang Road - action as in food stalls as well as other uh, pleasures of the flesh.

This shifted action was partly the reason I was at the Food Centre. I have come to the conclusion I share a strange affinity with Malaysia and Malay culture. Something about the very place sets my pulse racing. Right before reaching Geylang, I was at the KTM station at Keppel Road, enquiring about trains to Kota Bharu. The station is in almost all respects a Malaysian outpost - the people; their clothes; the language spoken; the bustling, slightly chaotic food stalls whose tables spill over onto the platform, even the the toilets are marked "Tandas".

All this evoked such a powerful nostalgia in me that going over to Geylang Serai, the other Malay stronghold in town, was almost natural. (I wanted to travel a bit that day, which is why I didn't stick around at the station itself.) Likewise, once at Geylang, I decided to avoid the "action areas", where Chinese culture and cuisine dominate, and proceeded to the less glamorous predominantly Malay hinterland.

Sure enough, I couldn't spot a single Chinese stall at the Food Centre. Indian stalls there were aplenty, likewise Malay stalls advertising exotic-sounding preparations I hadn't heard of before - Kacang Pool, Kebab Tornado, and Briyani Tomato. Of the few stalls still open, only Sinar Pagi Nasi Padang at #209 seemed interesting. Nasi Padang is not Malay, strictly speaking. Padang, from which this culinary genre originates, is in Indonesia, south of Singapore.

Unlike most hawker-centre stalls, this place had a certain personality. A white placard proudly proclaimed: "Theirs is the Kapau Indonesia style . . . rich, spicy and not adulterated for 'softies' (ie those who can't take spicy stuff) with very little use of sugar." It also listed some of the outlet's specialities, and stated that the authentic Kapau style uses for Rendang a harder, textured beef. Lined up just above the placard were an impressive range of reviews and certificates, including one from Makansutra.

The person running the place, a most amiable gent called Mohammed Effendi, asked me to wait a little while as he had run out of rice. I said I was very hungry, and could he just give me some meat. So he waved me towards the glass-fronted cabinet and asked me to make my selection, as per usual Nasi-Padang-meets-hawker-centre custom. I didn't pay much attention to the several interesting fish and veggie preparations on display - I was in an aggressively carnivorous mood that day.

There were two kinds of Rendang on offer - chicken and beef - as well as something called Dengdeng Belado, or marinated sliced chilli beef. I was hard-pressed for choice. Initially I thought I'd settle for Belado and Chicken Rendang. Then as he was ladling the Belado, I suddenly thought why not? and asked for Beef Rendang instead of chicken. Lots of red meat, but so be it. I also asked for a helping of Acar (pickle). Effendi then remembered he had just a little rice left, enough for a half-portion, which he served to me without charge.

I'd describe the Belado as "interesting". It was hard and chewy, as the placard promised. While this made eating slightly laborious, it was not as irritating as, for example, the badly cooked cheap cuts at CLE African Restaurant. The rich meatiness was complemented by judicious if strong use of spices.

Funnily enough, I didn't think the Rendang meat was all that hard, though maybe it benefited from an inadvertent comparison with the Belado. It was firm, yes, but easily chewable. And the gravy had been reduced to a thick, glutinous consistency over low flame, so that it formed a viscous, richly flavoured layer around the meat chunks like rapidly-melting chocolate coating on a biscuit. It made for a pleasant change from some recently encountered Rendang, more soup than stew even. I wouldn't call it the best Rendang I've had, but it came very close.

The meal was a brief one, mainly due to the miniscule amount of rice I was given. Nevertheless it was quite enjoyable, thanks to the cooking as well as the relaxed surroundings. Oh yes, I also immensely enjoyed surreptitiously gawking at the strange-looking (and even more strangely dressed) people hanging aound all over!

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CLE African Restaurant

Lovely weather it was. The surroundings were noisy as Little India always is, and yet strangely reposeful. A clear, crisp day, rare in Singapore, had given way to a twilight of deep mystical blue. Against this backdrop stood rows of quaint old houses, chocolate-box pretty, and painted in cheerful colours. And what was I doing in such a charming atmosphere? Trying to finish, in decidedly hostile surroundings, the most miserable meal I've ever had in Singapore, that's what I was doing. Welcome to CLE African Restaurant.

The place is located behind Mustafa's. Go out through the rear exit, left towards Rangoon Road, then first right at the Chinese food-court at the corner. Don't suppose the location of the place matters, really. One, I don't recommend it to anybody; and two, the management (such as it is) didn't seem too keen on outsiders intruding into what was clearly intended as a meeting-place for Africans.

Like most cheap eateries in Singapore, the tiny shop-space contained only the kitchen and the counter, and tables and chairs were laid out on the sidewalk. As I approached the counter, I could feel suspicious stares boring into me from all sides. Even the guy at the counter, though not exactly rude, didn't seem particularly disposed to chat. I ended up not even asking him which part of Africa he came from.

Older writeups list a more extensive menu, but when I went there the bill of fare was limited to about five dishes. Chicken and beef sold for two Dollars a helping, rice sold for a Dollar, and there was something called Suji, also priced at two Dollars. Back home in India, Suji is what we call semolina; I wondered what it meant here. So I asked the manager. He paused a bit and said, "You know, semo . . . uh, semonlina?" Oh.

(I shouldn't have been so surprised, actually. Once I had tried to explain to Jacinta, a friend from Uganda, what clarified butter was. After listening about ten minutes she brightened: "Oh yes, we also eat it back home. We call it Ghee." I'm not sure how these words have infiltrated Africa. My guess says, through generations and generations of Indian shopkeepers.)

As is my habit, after placing my order (Suji and beef), I fished out my camera and started taking pictures of the surroundings. That is when the other customers' sullen discomfiture at my presence flamed into outright belligerence. Some five of them, each about a foot taller than I, walked up and said, "We don't want you taking pictures of us." Clearly there were immigration issues involved, so I didn't pry further. Instead, I pointed out I was clicking only the surroundings, and that at no time had I pointed the camera at them. That had them only half-placated. They continued to glare at me and mutter, "No pictures of us." Even the manager strode up to me and asked me not to take pictures. That's why I don't have any pictures of the shop itself.

This unwonted hostility only served to trigger off my perverse genes. I set the camera to maximum wide angle, and contrived to "accidentally" get those customers somewhere within the frame. Evidently they were not familiar with wide angle, because they didn't catch on. Except one guy who covered his face when I pointed the camera not too far from where he was sitting. But even that, I think, was just being careful.

The food arrived. On a large plastic basin was placed a plate with a lump of Suji and two smaller lumps of beef charred almost black. Next to it was a bowl of stew made with okra and dried fish. I learnt later the basin contained hot water to wash one's hand in at the end of the meal. The Suji was doughy and tasteless, but that was only expected. Its pristine white colour indicated no spices had been added to it. I figured out, correctly as it turned out, you were supposed to tear off small pieces and dip them into the stew. The stew itself was decent enough. It smelled of dried fish, but not too much. The Okra masked the smell and complemented the flavour. I could smell tomatoes and garlic, but nothing much more. The meat was the wost I've ever had, fully as unappetising as it looked. It was dry, flavourless, and mostly cartilage. Even the little bits of meat were tough and chewy beyond belief. Beyond a little salt, I couldn't discern any spices at all.

While I was eating a guy came over and sat next to me. I forgot his name, but do remember he was from Nigeria. Unlike the others, he seemed to be eager to talk, and I had a shrewd idea about the reason why. Sure enough, after initial pourparlers, he asked me just why I was taking so many pictures. I pointed to one of the old houses, and started talking of scrolls, foliations and sconces. If you've read Jeeves discoursing on cow creamers and other silverware, you will know just where I had sourced my terms from. Happily, this friend was unfamiliar with architecture and Wodehouse alike, and swallowed my bullshit with little demur.

After a while he asked me if I were an architect myself. I decided to play it safe, and said I study law at NUS. Immediately came a very suspicious "So how come you know so much about architecture?" Hey, I knew that was coming! Had known it even when I was confessing to being a law student. Which had given me loads of time to invent an architect friend back home who'd asked me to take pictures for a project he was doing. Satisfied there was nothing fishy about me, the guy then lapsed into a sulky silence.

A little footnote: When I went to pay for my meal, the manager asked for five Dollars. I said Suji and meat came to only four bucks. He pointed out I was given that stew as well. True I hadn't asked for it, but people who order Suji always have stew to go with it. I decided not to argue. He wasn't overcharging me; I did get something for that extra Dollar even though I hadn't asked for it. At the same time it served to underscore just how uncomfortable the entire experience had been.

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GNU Look for the New Year

Happy new year to FoodScapes readers! I decided to commemorate the occasion through a design revamp. This was in fact long overdue. Circumstances had compelled me to start the blog rather precipitately, which meant I had to jerry-rig a design at very short notice. At that time I didn't own a digital camera, and was also a complete newbie at tweaking blog templates. The result was a rather plain layout, low on graphics (I refused to use pictures sourced from the web or elsewhere), a layout that just about passed muster, but not something I was terribly happy about.

Several times I ventured experiments with alternate designs. Resounding failures, they all were. One reason for that was, I had become used to the old design, jerry-rigged as it was. Ultimately I decided to compromise. I took elements from the old design, and incorporated them into a new setting. The design is nowhere near final, in fact I intend to further tweak the masthead as soon as I have time. But at least now I'm satisfied with the basic concept.

One of the more interesting things I did last year was to go almost completely open-source. And this policy finds reflection in the redesign too. I sourced the background texture from Free Seamless Textures, and did the graphics using GIMP on a laptop running Kubuntu. And of course, all the surfing, downloading, uploading and posting was done on Firefox, but that's hardly news. Very few people of my acquaintance use Internet Explorer any more, 's all I can say.

For a long time I wanted to write about a particular Dim Sum shop. It was one among a scruffy-looking bunch of outlets, mostly motorcycle dealerships and estate agencies, at the corner of Alexandra Road and Commonwealth Avenue. I had chanced upon it soon after shifting to Gillman Heights, and found their dumplings to be excellent.

The other day I walked past that area after a long time, more than two months. To my consternation and extreme disappointment, I found the entire row of shops had been demolished, and some sort of a luxury condo beginning to germinate on the site. Yuck! I really wonder where that Dim Sum place has shifted to.

Carl's jr serves the best mass-produced hamburgers I've eaten so far. I prefer them even to Relish's "gourmet" versions. And I think I've found a way of optimising the experience there.

I went there there other day, ordered some sort of a burger combo, and up-sized the drink and fries to medium-size. After I had paid for all this, I noticed the the bill-of-fare proclaimed an "All You Want drinks bar" or thereabouts. I asked the lady at the counter if that meant free refills. She said yes. Not unreasonably, I asked her what the upsize was all about, then. She said, "you get a bigger packet of fries." Which was pointless as far as I was concerned. I enjoy fries in only limited quantities, and I had opted for the upsize solely to get a bigger drink.

This set me thinking. If I remember correctly, the combo came for $12.30; with the upsize added, I paid $12.80. Don't recall exactly how much a burger sans fries or drinks costs, but it was somewhere under $10, say $9.50. A small drink comes for $2.70. "Small" is of course meaningless here, thanks to the free refills.

So my strategy is, if I buy a stand-alone burger and a "small" drink, I end up paying less than the price of a combo. I don't get any fries, but that is actually an advantage - it frees up more stomach-space for the drink. Two or three trips to the iced-tea dispenser, and I not only more than break even, but also get to fill my stomach with the things I like, instead of those superfluous fries. Smart, innit?

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Java Kitchen on Christmas Day

The other day I had one of my nicest meals in Singapore. Now my foodie-adventures tend towards exploring other cultures and cuisines. Seldom do I encounter anything that reminds me of home. But that's how I ended up feeling after this meal at an Indonesian restaurant, of all things! A tiny joint it was, hidden away in Lucky Plaza - a sleazy mall and in my opinion Orchard Road's leading eyesore. (It is chiefly notorious for cheap clothes, cheap perfumes, cheap jewellery, tacky souvenirs, and grey-market electronic goods hucksters.) So what was I doing there looking for interesting eateries, on Christmas day, lunchtime? Go figure.

It started with an impromptu decision we took, self and fellow research-scholar Xing Li. We had no prior plans for Christmas lunch, and Orchard seemed as good a place as any. Which was nice in a way, because we caught the tail end of the Christmas parade. There was one float made up like a boat, inside which were a bunch of people dressed in white and blowing wriggly trumpets. I could't make out what it was meant to depict, Noah's ark or Joshua and the walls of Jericho. Some time later, Xing Li drew my attention to what she called "Muslim Santa Clauses". I explained they were meant to be the Three Wise Men of the East, but it didn't register with her. Maybe she hadn't heard the story.

Shortly thereafter, I spotted this signboard for Indonesian food hanging down from a portico, and pointed it out to Xing Li. We had already tentatively decided on Western food at a nice place like Food Republic. Getting there was a problem, because the parade was still on and we needed to cross the road. And we were uncomfortably hungry by then. So when we saw this interesting alternative, we both jumped at it.

I was surprised to find there was much, much more to Lucky Plaza than I had earlier thought. Its tourist-trap outlets were situated mostly on the first two floors. The rest contained a vast number of shops catering to immigrants specifically from ASEAN countries. Indonesian and Filipino departmental stores, maidservant and other employment agencies, parcel services, money remittance centres, even agencies where you could pay for motorcycles delivered to your family back home. Eateries also, in wide variety and profusion. I intend to go back there and try out Filipino fast-food some day.

According to this review posted on its blog, Java Kitchen opened in Jakarta about fifteen years ago. Today it comprises a large chain with three outlets in Singapore, at Tajong Katong, Vivocity, and here at Lucky Plaza. It specialises in Javanese home cooking, reputedly more nutritious than other Indonesian cuisines. I learnt all this much later, while doing the last bits of research for the blogpost. Indeed, I wrote much of this piece before I read this review. And it is nice to see how well our experience tallied with what the proprietor had set out to achieve.

The Lucky Plaza outlet is situated at Level 3, away from the main lobby and surprisingly quiet and homey. The decor is clean and unpretentious to the point of severity - grey tiled floor, white walls decorated with posters and bunches of artifical flowers, simple wooden furniture painted dark brown and, for good measure, plain white porcelain tableware. At one corner lies the cashier's counter, flanked by glass-fronted cabinets containing trays of prepared food.

I found the staff pleasantly informal. They were happy to supply details of what each set meal, and did not show any discomfort as we dawdled over the menu. Neither did they object to my incessant photography, very rare in Singapore!

The bill of fare tends towards home-style cooking, and mostly full meals at that - no Satay and other street-food. Possibly this is because it caters mainly to immigrant workers staving off homesickness through the stomach. And a good thing too. It ensures the cooking is authentic, Just The Way Mother Made It.

Authentic or not, it was delightful. Xing Li opted for Rawon, a Javanese beef and black-nut soup. I wanted to order it myself; it was drizzly and overcast outside - but deferred to her choice. So instead I went in for Nasi Rames, a set-meal comprising white rice, Beef or Chicken Rendang (I asked for beef), Balinese Egg, and "traditional vegetables". The proportions didn't look like much, but they filled our stomachs nicely. Both were priced at six Dollars, very reasonable for the amount (and quality) of food it got us. We both ordered avocado juice to go with our meal - comparatively expensive at $4, but what the hell.

My order arrived first. Very pretty it was too, a square of banana-leaf covering the plate, with the various preparations heaped on it. There was a helping of white rice at the centre, surrounded by the Rendang; the Balinese Egg; some thinly shredded yellow veg (turned out to be pumpkin); some greyish veg I recognised as unripe jackfruit; peanut; and a slice of cucumber topped by the most ferocious Sambal I've yet encountered. Xing Li's Rawon was considerably less prepossessing. A large bowl of dark brown soup flecked with lighter brown in parts, still boiling away when they served it. Next to it was a plate with a helping of rice; two crackers; half a salted egg; and some of that incendiary Sambal.

Having grown up in an enchor-worshipping household, I inevitably began with the jackfruit. It was quite unlike the way we Bengalis prepare it - boiled with virtually no spices and just a hint of garlic. This allowed the natural flavours to come forth, and boy, was it good! It was made just right, neither undercooked nor mushy, and retained the moist Umami flavour of unripe jackfruit. This flavour is simple and direct, and disappears if overcooked. So was the pumpkin just right - juicy, crisp, and slightly sweet. I think what made them truly special were the quality and freshness of the vegetables used. I cannot imagine departmental-store veggies tasting anywhere near as nice.

They even put the Rendang in shade. Which is pretty remarkable because (a) I'm a diehard carnivore; (b) as FoodScapes regulars know, Rendang is one of my favourite meat dishes; and (c) the stuff they served was pretty decent its own right. It was slightly different from the others I have encountered (and written about). It was lot less oily, and spiced a little stronger. The taste of coconut was noticeably subdued, which allowed greater space to the meaty flavours. The meat itself was of good quality, tender and not very fibrous.

The Balinese Egg was very similar to the Dimer Jhol we get back home - whole boiled egg first lightly fried and then cooked in a thick gravy of tomato and onion-paste. It slightly different, no doubt owing to the spices used, but still reminded me of home. An unexpected and very pleasant surprise! it was good too, lightly spiced, neither oily nor over-fried.

Xing Li's soup tasted much better than it looked. The meat was just boiled, not browned, and yet it did not have that funny smell one gets from boiled meat (we Bengalis call it "botka", can't translate). It was also tender and of excellent quality. Minimal amounts of lemongrass and galangal could be discerned.

The avocado juice was a visual turn-off - sizeable tumblers of a green liquid shot through with brown chocolate syrup. To our surprise, the two flavours blended well (or at least much better than they looked!). The juice was very thick, thicker than most milkshakes, and barely sippable through a straw. Alone, it would have come close to filling our stomachs. In conjunction with the amounts of food we ate, it stuffed us something something cruel!

Honestly, beyond perhaps a limited range of dishes, and especially of snacks and light eats, I cannot think of a single downside to our experience. Comfortable atmosphere, friendly staff, quick service, excellent cooking, the freshest raw materials, very reasonable price, what more could one ask? As a matter of fact, it went more than that. It reminded me of home. And not just because of the unripe jackfruit and the egg curry. The entire meal, especially the vegetables, was pervaded through with the delicacy and sensitivity one usually associates with home cooking. A truly memorable, heartwarming (not heartburning) experience, somehow fitting that it occurred on Christmas day.

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Silly Saison for Rocket-Burgers - I

Cluny Court is a lovely, sprawling, beautifully maintained old building at the junction of Cluny Road and Bukit Timah Road. The first floor (Level 2 in Singaporespeak) is given over to Relish, an eatery specialising in exotic beers and gourmet hamburgers. Self and fellow-foodie Wangui had gone there a long time ago, April or thereabouts.

I had been meaning to write about it for a good while now for several reasons, not least because I took lots of photos that day. As is evident, photos in profusion are entirely appropriate to the nature of the post. It's not often that I dwell at such length on an eatery's decor. But then, it's not often that I come across such curious decor either.

It was dark inside. As in really dark, dark as a sleazy nightclub in Geylang. The bar area had lots of light fixtures attached, which wasn't saying much.The counter had orange backlighting. Behind it the shelves were backlit white. Rows of beer bottles were arranged on them, too evenly spaced and uniformly sized to be anything but decorative. As a matter of fact, the same could be said of the entire bar lighting scheme as well; it sure didn't help us see things better!

The rest of the restaurant was serviced by stray pink lampshades that drooped down from the ceiling at random intervals. The ceiling itself was too high to reflect any light, not that the wholly inadequate bulbs in the lampshades emanated a lot of light to reflect.

Sheet-metal lanterns, with ornate designs cut out of their sides, hung from brackets at strategic points on the walls. Once again, they seemed to serve a purely decorative purpose. The perforations projected very pretty patterns on the walls, but illuminated little else, not even people sitting inches away.

Did the decor work? That's a difficult question. The effect was very pretty, no doubt, clearly done by a professional designer. The disparate elements did not clash. This could be because the ornate wall-mounted lanterns and the purple teardrop lampshades hanging from the ceilings were both too feebly lit to intrude into each others' spheres of influence.

My reservations were twofold. First, the arrangement did not make use of the natural characteristics of the building. To my mind, if a location offers certain intrinsic advantages, it makes more sense to design around these, and let the rest of the design flow organically from them.

To get a fairer idea of these advantages, I took a picture with the exposure raised a full two stops. And goodness, what a difference that made! A high, vaulted, half-timbered ceiling, a feeling of space, of airiness, an edifice you'd feel comfortable to breathe in, let's put it this way.

And not one bit of this found reflection in the decor. The ceiling was the darkest portion of the interior, for good measure even some of those wonderful exposed cross-beams had been painted white! I wouldn't call the decor impersonal, but it did seem entirely disjointed from the structure of the building. It can be transplanted in toto onto any mall or "country club", and would be none the poorer for it.

My second grouse was that the dim lighting made the place a lot less convivial. It did not comfort me, didn't reassure me, didn't make me feel welcome to linger over the food or the beer. All it did manage to do was intimidate me, make me feel alienated from the surroundings. And of course, it made photographing the food an unmitigated headache.

[Continued in Part II]

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