Pow Sing restaurant along Serangoon Garden Way is a fairly large establishment, well-liked for its authentic homestyled nonya food. Apparently, we used to visit the restaurant often when the kids were just well, kids, although I cannot seem to retrieve such data from my somewhat corrupt hard drive.
Garnished with lady's finger, tomatoes and green chillis, the Curry Fish Head would have been sensational if the spice value had been kicked up a notch. Then again, nonya dishes have never been known to be tongue-scathingly spicey. Now this is really funny because when the waitress served up the bubbling cauldron of fiery filings, she was like, "CUSE me, hot ARH, BE careful.." while cupping the bottom aluminium-foil-covered base of the pot with HER BARE HANDS. RIGHT. And we wonder why there are two men in black approaching our table.
If somebody calls you a 'tofu,' it is probably a compliment. Well, that's probably what you will think after taking a bite out of the Crispy Nonya Tauhu. Of course, being the serial tofu lover I am, you could accuse me of blatant favouritism. As my dad puts it, the beauty lies in thin barely-there crisp casing which conceals an unbelievable melt-in-your-mouth inside. (Well, he didn't put it in such a poetic manner but you get the picture). Gloss on some sweet sauce and you are ready to go.
I selfishly hogged the Nonya Chap Chye as the mix of white cabbage, lily buds and black cloud's ears, simmered in soy bean paste-based sauce was faultless.
According to Pow Sing's website, Bakwan Kepting is "a traditional Straits Chinese* soup served at weddings." HAH! Beat that, shark's fin. Replicas of ping pong balls made with minced pork, crab and shrimp meat ball and bamboo shoots brewed in light broth, which made for comfort eating on a rainy Friday night. It was a little too smooth to my liking though. I prefer meatballs from Ivin's- with a rough edge around them. Who doesn't like a bad ball?
Extremely popular with Pow Sing's patrons, the Hainanese chicken deserves a black belt for taste and appearance. The chicken was positively respledant and texture-wise, tender to the chicken bone. In fact, I don't think I have come across such a good-looking plate of steamed chicken. I could almost imagine it alive, strutting its tailfeather, holding up some beauty product and sharing its secret with me. Hallucinating a dead chicken as a celebrity endorser? I must be under too much stress at work. HA HA HA.
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