Cha Cha Cha

Holland Village has seen better days. Back in JC and SMU Bukit Timah campus days, I had sought solace in its mishmash of cafes and coffee chains. I even had my first Subway encounter there- hated it on sight and smell but am a convert -heart and soul-. Unfortunately, these days the ever-ongoing renovation works and hellish parking experiences have quelched any incentive for me to visit. Furthermore, its position as Bohemian Central "place to hang" has since been ursped by the likes of Dempsey and to a lesser extent, Rochester. On account of old time's sake, some friends and I decided to head there for dinner last Friday.

Waddling past the usual suspects Crystal Jade and Sushi Tei, I was tickled by the thought of Mexican food. I'm embarrassed to say much of my Mexican food experiences have been largely restricted to Dorito Nachos and Taco Bell. Me like-ko Nacho-deo.

Yes, I deserve to be stoned but Your Honour, I plead second degree ignorance. I ALSO hope you would grant me pardon and 3 months supervised probation at a Mexican restaurant where I hopefully learn to tell the difference between fajitas, tacos and burritos



There was a lot going for the menu but it might as well have been written in Hebrew. As we were flipping through the menu, a basket of nachos and salsa appeared ala Speedy Gonzales disrupting my thoughts, distracting me from more important things in life- fajitas, chicken or beef?

Hmm, shall we have (ooo nachos) quesdailas? The fajitas (mmm finely chopped salsa) sound good too... Waiter, we'll have the (dang no more chips) chili con carne, quesadilas (could we ask for more chips) and fajitas (well, maybe not), chicken please?



My first experience with chili con carne ("chili" for short) was in Copenhagen, prepared by a German who read the recipe as Chili CORN Carne and added well, corn kernels. Not complaining, loved her for her efforts. Here at Cha Cha Cha, their chili was essentially comfort stew made with ground beef and beans, dash of melted cheese. Within the context of "first time trying", this was easily my favourite dish of the evening.



Any GourmetMexican101 professor would tell us to order quesadillas, flour tortilla with cheese, served with finely sliced lettuce, guacamole, sour cream and salsa.



I don't know how authentic the Tapa is for when I googled "Mexican Tapa", all I got was a bunch of listings for Mexican Tapas Bars. The tapa, according to Cha Cha Cha, consists of deep fried rolls stuffed with shredded chicken, served with [copy and paste] served with finely sliced lettuce, guacamole, sour cream and salsa. Though it was supposedly a hit with the regulars, I found the over-fried dry chicken shreds just passable.



Following the trail of Les Familairs, we had the chicken fajitas, served on a hot plate for that oo-hot-hot effect, served with the usual da-das. The fajitas sans green chili reminded me of American-Chinese stir fry and I meant that in the nicest possible way- like a good stir fry that you are probably too embarrassed to admit liking.



I'll be the first one to admit I no more of an expert on Mexican cuisine than say, a Mexican mule.Throughout dinner, images of supermarket lanes and bottled sauces filled my mind and while tasty, Cha Cha Cha left me with the impression that everything could easily be bought from Cold Storage. Perhaps what we ordered barely scratched the surface of what Mexican food had to offer. Secondary research reveals that Cha Cha Cha has been around for more than a decade, well they must be doing something right then.

This article is featured in Wine Dine & Unwind

I'm off to finish reading Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee. Got to admit I was attracted by the words "food", "Princeton" and "Korean dry cleaner parents". I feel like I've just chanced upon a new stereotype- Are the Chinese and their faux dim sum takeways so 1990s? Are the Koreans and their dry cleaning services are the new "immigrants made good in America" (think designer Doo Ri)? I spent my Friday evening with this page-turner ("Hermit" mode activated) though I better ration my reading for I'm already on Page 316 of this 560 page novel.

fLOGGERS dINNER tOMORROW nIGHT.
Can't Hardly Wait!

Novus. Second Time

Halfway through Advertising class, I suddenly remembered I haven't made a reservation at Gunther's. Alas, my 11:45am call was met with "we are fully booked" reply. -bummer- When we took into account the rainy weather and proximity, my friend and I decided to head to Novus at National Musuem instead.

Upon arrival, the disturbingly empty restaurant caught me by surprise and as lunch proceeded on, another 2 tables with occupied. Inevitably service was flawless, then again it better be with the number of wait staff outnumbering the number of occupied tables.



Tearing open my wheat roll, I thought to myself, Has Novus fallen out of favour already?



For starters, we had a choice of beef carpaccio, cappuccino white bean soup and something-boring-which-is-why-we-didn't-order-it. The cappuccino white bean soup hinted euro-majestro but it turned out to be an anemic weak brew.



For entree, we were given a selection of salmon and lamb. Bearing an ill-disposition towards cooked salmon, I went for the lamb goulash. A choice none the wiser as a tired-looking entree, served with potato pins and shredded pickles made its way to our table.



The saving grace of lunch was dessert, passion fruit crème brulee with strawberries and honey ice cream. I swear the honey ice cream has healing properties as it soothed the tartness of passion fruit and strawberries; the creme brulee was blessed with a well-caramelized torched top and luscious light body.



The seared scallops, with not-one-not-two-but-four-times cooked pork belly was just as good as I had remembered.

However, going by today's performance, things do not bode well in SwankyLand. With my Business thinking cap on, I felt while the chic-quotient was indisputable, Novus's value proposition languished in the wake of competition. Perhaps being served Fiji Water, which cost us almost half of our scallop appetizer, had led me to believe I would walk out of the restaurant 3kg lighter, looking like I've had a botox session and when that didn't happen...


I feel my pores tightening already! Not.

Let's just say I certainly don't think I will be returning anytime soon.

Simply Vera. Simply Desirable.

Move over Karl and Stella! Ms Vera Wang is the latest (hopefully, not the last) haute dresser to enter the discount-designer realm of cheap-chic.

Vera Wang outfits that wouldn't land you in the Loans office?

Breathe folks, breathe.

Maybe there's god after all.







Simply Vera's Wizard of Oz-ish ad campaign hints of whimisically feminine outfits, which will definitely unleash my inner Veruca Salt. Date of Launch? September 9th 2007 on kohls.com

"Daddy/Mummy, I want..."

Apologies for the lack of updates.
Just repaired my laptop and re-wired my wireless.

My Saved As Draft entries beg a re-visit.
I have to edit some articles for SMU's Gourmet Club magazine (if you are one of our featured partners for the upcoming issue, apologies for the delay but it will be published s-o-o-n).
The thought of 5.5 modules weigh heavily on my mind.

However, I will be back with fresh entries soon.
Meanwhile, keep yourselves entertained with the link on my blog ok?

And Charl Khoo, if you are reading this: Have a safe journey, see you in December.

See ya in a while, guys.

Hachi, Orchard Emerald

Hair salons lined Level 3 of Orchard Emerald building and I almost missed the tiny entrance to the restaurant. Inside, Hachi was barely furnished. One could almost imagine the Chef saying, "Why bother with decor? People come here to eat my food, drink my Asahi beer, not admire crane paintings..." How true.

We were seated at the sushi counter and I’m usually intimidated by sushi counters. It’s like being in an auction hall where ear scratching or collar fiddling could cost you your kid’s education fund. In this case, there cold be more to lose. One wrong move and you might distract the chef. A sudden loud noise and the grain of sliced fish is disturbed. Then you wonder what’s going through the chef’s mind as he brandishes the sashimi knife menacingly in your direction.

I’m only 22! I don’t wanna die…

In the words of Toni Miss Trunchbull the guide, “You are a drama junkie...”

Nonetheless, sushi counter was fun. Despite being a first-timer, I was well aware of the no-menu-push-stop-button drill thanks to the other floggers out there.



To get us started, we were served Liliputian bowls of otoshi, simmered vegetables and konnyaku stripes and shirataki noodles stirred with mentaiko (spicy fish egg).



Next up was weightwatchers-friendly melon and parma ham with tobasco-dribbled mayonnaise. The dish featured a rock melon so sweet; it prompted a visit to Cold Storage after the meal. I love the contrast between the salty Parma ham and sweet rock melon.



The Chutoro sashimi bore silkiness almost made me defect from the mekajiki camp.



Following closely behind was the Iwashi, baby sardines were simmered in vinegar, sugar and shoyu. Very delightful- wish I could have this everyday.



Assorted tempura of king prawn, midsection of crab leg, pumpkin and corn, each encased in hefty tempura batter. Ironically I liked the armourish batter- in terms of prawn-to-batter ratio, the handsome-sized prawn would have frizzled with a thinish crisp batter.



Fried food? What's there not to love?



We dug into the Yamame, which first salted then grilled. It was an unapologetically bony fish but the sweetness was outstanding.



Soup with shimeji mushrooms and clams.



The Grilled Alaskan king crab legs made its way to our table and it was easily the highlight of my evening.



We also nibbled on a pork rib, seasoned with teriyaki sauce and grilled.



The deep fried Kama (fish collar) was a standout. We pierced through the golden brown covering, only to discover juicy firm interior and boundless pleasure.



There was effortless enjoyment in our Roasted Wagyu beef.



90% of the customers that night were Japanese and most, if not all of them, were on How-are-your-kids-doing-in-school terms. I felt like a gatecrasher at a private dinner party...

For omakase virgins or sushi aficionados who love sushi trivia (anyone else out there as weird as me?), here’s an entertaining website by Trevor Corson, author of The Zen of Fish.

Treat it as light-shoyu reading though because advice like “pour exactly 20 cubic centimeters of soy sauce into your dish” and not asking the chef about himself, because “all sushi chefs have a secret past” make for a great tv script. I can so imagine the trailer for HEROES Season 3: Onomiyaki-San, what lies beneath his subdued diminutive exterior? What family secret does he have to hide?

He created -gasp- Wasabi-flavoured SPAM! Que Apocalypse.

Or for a Singaporean twist, Onomiyaki-San was a –drumroll please- ex-investment banker! Que teary mum “You heartless creature, I paid for your Ivy League education… ”

The allure of omakase is lost on those who fail to comprehend the significance of each ingredient, akin to playing Mozart to the deaf. Also, omakase should not be tagged as “food” but “event” or “ceremony”. Hand to my heart: It would take more than a meal for symbolism of omakase to sink in completely. Consider it culinary education as there is a need to educate myself on the significance of each ingredient. I know have a long way ahead of me but at least I am en route to a gastronomic El Dorado.

I just have to find the way without committing kuidaore.

I'm still HERE.

And as of yesterday, a born-again student! Just in case you were wondering, I still have a year and a half to go. My younger sister is actually graduating before me but -feet shuffles in sand- I'm not in a hurry to graduate. Heh heh.

Wacha

In a world where headlines are dominated by troop withdrawal plans, sub-prime mortgages and celebrity DUIs, it brings me great comfort to discover places like Wacha.



Despite being located on renascent Ann Siang Road, the hustle and bustle of Chinatown seems light years away. The front of house showcases beautiful lacquer ware and porcelain while the back spots a cozy parcel-sized dining area, decorated to resemble a playground for Little Odd Forest creatures.



We went for tea and what we had were exquisitely presented and adequately flavourful.



Served in a kawaii-neh birdcage (get yours from the Singapore Botanical Gardens gift shop), we found peck-only servings of roasted garlic, broccoli with mayonnaise, seaweed, potato salad, pate, plain cracker amongst the other unrecognizable items.



For dessert, I tried the green tea cheesecake with green tea ice cream. The lack of a creamy texture made this an unorthodox cheesecake but I wasn't about to hand over my spoon anytime soon.

Wacha made me think of retirement plans. Wacha: sui generis amongst mass commodization and soulless franchises.

The Yellow Ribbon Charity Gala, Ritz Carlton

Launched in 2004, the Yellow Ribbon Fund sets out to provide financial support for associated services of rehabilitative and reintegration of inmates, ex-offenders and their family members before and after their discharge from custody. The fund also aims to increase public awareness of programmes aimed at giving 2nd chances to ex-offenders.



Last Friday evening, I attended The Yellow Ribbon Charity Gala at Ritz Carlton. We were treated to a sneak preview of Rodgers & Hammerstein's masterpiece, The King & I and a medley performed by a trio of prison inmates, complete with sequins (think cross between Royston Tan's '15' and '881').

Although I was glad we were spared from a 10-course Chinese banquet dinner, the menu was -sigh- regrettably fusion. Despite the dodgy-sounding 4 course line up, I relented at the arrival of the bread basket. The assortment of baby-soft bread rolls kept warm in the embrace of linen origami forged a beacon of hope and forgiveness.

The starter featured prawn brandade perched on roasted mushroom timbale, with citrus pink pepper sauce. For this dish alone, I had to consult the food lover's companion guide twice- for 'brandade' and 'timbale'. Prawn brandade is a pounded combination of prawn, olive oil, garlic, milk and cream and it is a specialty of the city of Nîmes, south of France. The brandade was an acquired taste (I almost liked it nearing the end) but paired with the appalling roasted mushroom timbale, it was a performance that should never be repeated. Ever.

Along the lines of what-was-the-Chef-thinking, the seafood Tom Yam cream soup was marginally less hoffific but halfway through, I had to seek solace in my 4th bread roll.

The palate cleanser, a lychee sherbet brought sweet relief. Subsequently, the room brightened up as it was auction time. What a relief it was to be able to see our food.. and yeah, the faces around the table.



With the soup and starter both decidedly awful, dinner was beginning to look like a Greek tragedy. Yet with the arrival of the main course, Pan Fried Stuffed Chicken Thigh with Mushroom, White Bean Ragout and Pesto King Prawn and Thai Cream Sauce, the event's key message "Help Unlock the Second Prison" rang soundly. The chicken, prawn and ragout were plate-scrappingly tasty; the Thai cream sauce was missable but not missed.



Dessert was British EIC meets Malay Archipelago- coconut custard (more pudding than custard) topped with diced mangoes. It wasn't a booming success but I finished it anyway.



Truth is unless the event is food-related, one should never expect too much from such functions.After all, the kitchen probably resembles a Ford Toyota factory assembly line and you are just 1 out of the 500 mouths the kitchen has to feed that night.

Novus, National Museum

This is most uncharacteristic of our statutory boards. How often do you see them hand the deeds of an esteemed national monument to a bunch of twenty-plus year olds and say, "Here, chic up this place..."



As Fatboy Slim sang, "We've come a long long way together. through the hard times and the good." Forget "Huayu Cool!", it's "Gah-ment Cool!". Don't mind me I'm just dabbling in patriotism since it's National Day tomorrow.



Latin for new, Novus the restaurant has garnered significant PR value in the press and for good reason. At helm, sister and brother Ying and Yung Ong have created a voguish eatery high on Euro debonair: oversized mirrors on the walls magnify the 48-seater restaurant's space (a trick I learnt from Discovery Travel and Living) and the interior (quilted seats that resemble a giant Chanel 2.55) provide visual feast.


Bread Basket



Starter was a tuna nicoise salad, which featured a gob of sundried tomato pate-look-alike (too sour for my liking), soft boiled quail egg, tuna carpaccio (overwhelmed by the pesto) and herb-crusted seared tuna (the size of a fifty-cent coin).



There was a choice between the sea bass or lamb rack for the main course. Ooo what a no-brainer. The lamb rack, perched on potato gratin, was raunchy with fat but the tasting portion was too little to sustain gratification.



The dessert for lunch du jour was bread and butter pudding, a stogy cake, drizzled with creamy custardy sauce, served with vanilla-pod ice cream and a crescent wafer crisp for arty-farty effect. Pity we weren't presented with more choices for dessert.



The seared scallops, with four times cooked pork belly, chestnut puree and red wine reduction was a starter from the ala carte menu. Pairing scallop and pork belly may seem grisly to a casual observer but result was beguiling. The subtle sweetness of 2 plump scallops stood firm against the robust pork belly flavour and the chestnut puree was marvellous. That being said, don't you think cooking the pork belly four times sounds a little excessive?

Normally I like tasting menus but I found the portions at Novus too small to provide sufficient bang for your buck. While today's lunch may not be gush-worthy, the overall ambiance (rivaling schmaltzy Marmalde Pantry) warrants visits by those who prefer to be seen and heard.

Cedele the "Western Restaurant"

Saturday lunch too us to Cedele Wheelock where we had the carrot cake, hot breakfast and rosti (they serve breakfast till 5pm!).



The hot breakfast came with scrambled eggs on toast and sauteed mushrooms*, while the rosti comprised of 2 potato square pancakes, sunny side up eggs & tomatoes with sauteed mushrooms*. However, what made lunch memorable wasn't the food but an egg-traordinary encounter.



Here in Southeast Asia, a fried egg is lacking unless iaccompanied by a drizzle of dark soy sauce or ketjap manis. However, when Ade requested for dark soy sauce, we were rewarded with a look of bewilderment

"We don't have dark soy sauce..."

O-kayyy

And THIS, "... this is a western-type of restaurant"

Gee, is that why I had to leave my yak at the door?

Too bad the ray of enlightenment eluded the 3 of us. Say if time were frozen and I had 3 minutes to assume Miss Fabia lip-filler-overdose demeanor cum accent, this is what I would have replied:

-clears throat-

Don't you know why I am?!

What do you mean you don't read the Sunday papers?

Here's a laminated copy of my interview.

Keep it, it's yours. I have dozens more in my car.

HAHA, if only I had the guts.

Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't dark soy sauce one of the most basic seasonings in most, if not every kitchen in Asia? I mean, it should be right up there with salt or light soy sauce right? It's not like we were asking for sambal blachan.

Cedele- Bless their bread. Pity about the service.

* Denotes choice of bacon rashers, sauteed mushrooms or sausages

La Nonna, Namly Place

In Italy, you never crack jokes about 2 things: Mafia and Grandmothers. From what I've read and watched, it seems the culinary gods in Italy aren't celebrity chefs addicted to the TV cameras but pint size grandmothers- silver-haired folks who make pasta from scratch and turn white at the thought of bottled pasta sauce.

I mean, how often do you hear how so-and-so's grandmother makes the best gnocchi or that the lasagna is sensational because "it's exactly how Nonna used to make it...."

Pretty often? I thought so too.

After taking into account Orchard Crowds and Marina Bay Traffic Jams, we decided to head down to La Nonna (italian for grandmother) for my customary birthday dinner.



La Nonna welcomed us with a basket of warm bread rolls and crisp bread. The breads, which were made in-house, made a beeline to my heart. Crusty warm bread rolls, which broke away to reveal fluffy insides, was exemplary while the herb-speckled crisp bread offered a crackling good time.



I can finally cross off 'ravioli' from my To Taste List. La Nonna's ravioli showcased thickish pasta pillows stuffed with minced veal, smothered in bolognese sauce. Most of us grew up on bolognese sauce so that shouldn't come off as a surprise to anyone.



We had fun with the Rigatoni, with braised duck leg ragout "Aretina" style . Rigatoni was decidedly al dente and the tubes were coated with just enough sauce. I think for the less discerning folks (sigh, myself included), it is difficult to differentiate Italian sauces especially since they are "regionalized". I so need a Pasta Sauce for Dummies guide.



One of the gluten-free items we tried was the Gemberoni, pot cooked king prawns "Guazetto". Gua-what? Guazetto is a slow cooking method that concentrates flavors by simmering ingredients in stock with tomatoes and seasonings. I'm running out of ways to describe yet another tomato-based sauce.. HELP



Our other main dish was the grilled Italian spicy Italian sausage, served with greens and potatoes. 2 foot long sausages, complete with appropriate sooty surfaces appeared. Was it good? Yes. Was it hands-off-it's-mine good? Well, yes for the potato ingots.



Then there was their signature pizza La Nonna, topped with tomato, mozzarella, parmesan, asparagus, egg and truffle. Sounds like a match made in pizza hell but pizza turned out surprisingly pleasant. The flavours melded well, save for the asparagus who decided to throw in an earthy note.



Service was schizophonic. I noticed there were only male waiters and while one was helpful and smiley, a burly-sized waiter barked "Excuse Me!" when my mum didn't hear him the first time. Ok, so now we know what The Hulk's been hiding since his movie debut flop... Though it is situated in hide-and-seek Namly Place, it wouldn't be long before La Nonna finds itself serving to packed houses.