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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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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Rendang

Good to be blogging once again, after a hiatus of two months to the day. In the last few weeks I went through a bout of intense work-related pressure. Now that it's over, I can wallow in the pleasure, the relief, of dwelling on non-curricular priorities. Priorities like food, sleep, and the gentle art of doing nothing. Cocooned in this glorious mellowness, my mind is drawn to one question that has vexed me ever since I came to Singapore - the dearth of good Malay food available here.

Before I landed here, I thought I had a clear idea of the various categories of Singapore cuisine. The dominant was (Singlicised) Chinese food, of which Peranakan or Straits-Chinese was a subset. Indian-inspired stuff like Roti Prata and all, I had discussed in this blog before. And then there was Malay food, with trademark preparations like Nasi Goreng and Otak-Otak.

[Aside: I once read in Readers' Digest about an Indonesian restaurant serving Nazi (sic) Goreng. Dunno, maybe they meant Hermann Goreng. Of course, Emperor Nazi Goreng has since been immortalised for building the Great Wall of China. To keep rabbits out. Seen the Bigpond commercial?]

Anyways, it took me a few months in Singapore to realise things didn't quite work that way. The Bukit Timah Campus cafeteria does not yet have a dedicated Malay food stall. The soup joint occasionally serves Laksa (which is apparently Peranakan in origin anyways). Along with the usual Roti Prata, Briyani (sic) rice and Thosai, the 'Muslim' stall sells Nasi Goreng and Nasi Lemak. (I tried their Nasi Lemak once. They handed me a plate with a fried chicken wing, a slice of cucumber, a spoonful of Sambal, and a portion of what looked, smelled and tasted exactly like plain rice - not even a whiff of coconut.)

At the Adam Road hawker centre, you have Peranakan stalls selling Nasi Lemak, Mamak stalls selling Nasi Goreng, Malay-run stalls selling both Nasi Goreng and Mee Goreng (traditionally a Mamak staple). On my trip to Penang I had encountered a Chinese-run shop at Batu Feringhi that sold Nasi Goreng and Mee Goreng (and nothing else, as it turned out).

I guess this blurring of categories is due to several reasons. One is that Nasi Goreng and Mee Goreng have become almost generic preparations across communities, ubiquitous all over the Straits area. Secondly, due to this very ubiquity, they represent a feasible method of broadening customer-bases beyond one's own ethnic group. When a Tamil shop-owner, for example, seeks custom from other communities, what easier a way than generating a fried rice or fried noodles alongside his Thosai and Briyani rice?

This leaves several questions unanswered, though. Like why it's so difficult to get anything even remotely out-of-the-way in Malay cuisine. At any hawker centre you get a truly bizarre variety of Chinese-inspired stuff - chicken rice, oyster omelette (discussed earlier), even pig's organ soup. Mamak stalls offer their own respectably diverse range. But Malay food? Try looking for a Rendang at a hawker centre.

It is all the more surprising because Rendang is not exactly unknown in Singapore. Most caterers have it as an option, as do several upscale'ish restaurants. Funnily enough, though it is considered a creation of the Minangkabau people (thus properly indigenous to the Archipelago), the Peranakan seem to've co-opted it into their cuisine. As this review, or even this one, will testify.

My first proper encounter with Rendang also took place in a Peranakan restaurant. For almost a year since my arrival, my sole contact with the stuff was through the Rendang Burger at Burger King! Then last month I discovered this place called Curry Wok. It's located on a little lane off Bukit Timah Road just before Coronation Plaza, ironically walking distance from the Uni. Three more eateries neighbour it. One sells Thai, the second Penang cuisine, both fairly classy joints. The third is a typical chicken-rice joint, somewhat run-down and distinctly downmarket.

Curry Wok is certainly not downmarket. It is bright, well-kept, cheerfully informal. The service is genuinely warm; they seem to enjoy chatting with customers. I had a long conversation with a lady called Cat (short for Catherine!), who took pains to find out what selections from the menu I was likely to enjoy.

The solicitousness was not uncalled for; the place did have a diverse menu. Peranakan dishes such as Curry Fish Head and Sambal Sotong predominated. In addition it had Chinese-leaning items like braised pork knuckle and Century Egg Tofu, hardcore Straits stuff like Sayur Lodeh (a coconut-and-vegetable stew), and even chicken curry, whose roots can be traced, somewhat tenuously, to India.

I wasn't bothered with any of this, not after spotting the Rendang. It was not cheap, at $8 a plate. I ordered it together with a helping of rice (a Dollar extra) and an iced tea (don't remember how much it cost). The size of the helping was a shocker when it arrived. It was disappointingly small, mingy, almost miniscule! and no amount of shredded green onion sprinkled on top could make up for it. I chose a picture with a fork and spoon so as to give an an idea of the scale involved.

Rendang involves meat (lamb or, as in this case, beef) made with coconut milk and spices. It is left to cook slowly for hours, till the liquids thicken just short of drying up completely. Something like the Bengali Kosha Mangsho (which is undergoing a revival lately).

The respective spices and condiments used make a world of a difference, though. Kosha Mangsho eschews coconut milk and uses Garam Masala, cloves and cinnamon, making for a sharper, spicier experience. Rendang, on the other hand, uses lemongrass and Galangal, which adds a note of freshness to the dark, meaty flavours of the beef and the fattiness of the coconut milk.

I must say the Rendang was pretty well cooked. The sharp taste of lemongrass did not predominate, nor was it smothered under by the coconut milk. The meat was tender, but not the gooey paste that inexperienced cooks turn Kosha Mangsho into. Notwithstanding its dryness, it was pleasant to eat with rice. The small helping was just about enough for the helping of rice given. It did not fill up the stomach, which made the walk back a pleasant experience.

Will I be going there again? I honestly don't know. For now, I'm trying to locate other places that serve Rendang of the same quality, but with bigger helpings for the price. I'm sure such things exist!

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