Singapore's Red-Light District Is a Hotbed of Good Food - washingtonpost.com

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By Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, September 27, 2009

In the dark, I wended my way through a thicket of hungry-eyed men, brushing off leering looks as I focused on reaching my goal: a fluorescent white beacon coming from a slender alley behind a scruffy-looking motel.

My family and I had come to Geylang, Singapore's best-known red-light district, in search of a good time, but probably of a different sort from what the men around us were after. In the alley, we perched on greasy plastic stools, taking in the smells of wok-fried seafood and tempura eggplant as we waited for our meal to surface at J.B. Ah Meng, a little hawker-stand-style restaurant with tables set up in a grimy passageway.

Soon enough, the sounds of hawkers' flip-flops signaled the arrivals: a bed of slightly crispy glass noodles tossed with bits of cuttlefish, egg and pork, stir-fried in a sweet dark soy sauce; and a platter of crispy, deep-fried fish skins topped with a tart fresh papaya salad. But the truly unusual star of the meal was a dish of shrimp and clusters of corn kernels slathered with a thick coating of salted egg and then deep-fried. The slightly grainy salted egg crust was an intriguing and delicious juxtaposition with the plump, juicy bits of shrimp and corn. Our entire meal of four big platters (including an order of tempura eggplant) cost just under $40. Not a bad price for a few well-conceived and perfectly executed dishes that we'd remember for some time to come.

When people think of Singapore, a few things tend to come to mind: squeaky-clean malls, an iron-fisted government, a ban on chewing gum. There is a seamier side to the country, however, and the pockets where this underbelly flourishes are increasingly where you'll find some of the best meals.

Along Keong Saik Road, in a neighborhood that has housed brothels for more than a century, narrow lanes are dotted with old Chinese coffee shops known as "tze char" places, which are basic stalls that offer a variety of stir-fried dishes such as crab noodles and har jeong gai, a dish of chicken coated with prawn paste and then deep-fried. Near the east coast, Joo Chiat Road is a growing hub of cheap Vietnamese eateries selling pho and shredded duck soup that have popped up to cater to the Vietnamese prostitutes who walk the streets after dark. And in downtown Singapore's Orchard Towers, a shopping center filled with seedy bars and massage parlors whose dank corridors are heavy even at noon with the scent of furtively smoked cigarettes, there is standout Thai food to be had at places that increasingly cater both to food lovers who can afford to order a lemon grass whole fish for $10 and to the young Thai girls in fishnets looking for cheaper sustenance.

Singapore has had red-light districts since its birth: The British established them in the early 19th century to cater to the waves of young businessmen and laborers who came to the country from China, Malaysia, India and Europe, leaving their families behind, according to Mark Emmanuel, an associate professor of history at the National University of Singapore. He notes that prostitution became such a thriving industry that in the 1930s, Singapore earned the nickname "Sin galore" in the region.

In Geylang, a neighborhood that has been a well-known red-light district for decades, Singaporeans have always known that the even-numbered lorongs (which means "small roads" in Malay) are where you'll find the red-lanterned houses, while the odd-numbered ones are for unrelated enterprises. Along those roads, there's been a boom since the 1990s of late-night eating stalls that serve up a variety of fare, from noodles topped with melt-in-your-mouth-tender beef to dishes not for the faint of heart: chopped duck's necks and pig's ears that are cheap, savory and meant to go well with an ice-cold beer sipped while watching the girls walk up and down the road.

"These are the two greatest sins in the world; they go hand in hand," said KF Seetoh, a Singapore-based TV food-show host and author of a guide to the country's hawker food. "These guys who go and hunt down hookers, when they're in that mode, they don't scrimp on food and drinks. It's about eating well and living well."

On a trip to Singapore two years ago, Seetoh took me to Geylang Clay Pot Rice. We called 30 minutes ahead to order the signature dish of piping-hot clay pot rice, filled with waxy Chinese pork sausage, chicken and salted fish, then doused with vegetable oil and sweet, molasses-like soy sauce and tossed bibimbap style. But the dish that I would wax lyrical about for months afterward was the soft-shell crab, which was chopped into pieces, breaded with a mixture of spices, deep-fried and topped with a generous sprinkling of chilli padi, a tiny, flaming-hot, fire-engine-red pepper.

Remembering that meal with great hunger, I asked Seetoh on a recent trip back, "Where to now?" And we drove to Rochor Beancurd House, a place that makes a deliciously comforting dessert of silky-smooth warm bean curd. The Portuguese egg tarts -- which differ from those in most Chinatowns because of their sweet, caramelized topping -- also were a must-try.

The next day, I trekked to Joo Chiat Road for a late lunch. In midafternoon, the food stalls along the several-blocks-long street were slowly waking up. After prowling some somnolent coffee shops, my family and I stopped at the Beef House, a little place whose house-made, springy beef balls have made it a draw. The balls are served with noodles done in the style of the Hakka Chinese who first immigrated to Singapore from Southeastern China in the 19th century. The soup version is similar to Vietnamese pho, while the dry version features noodles and beef balls drenched in a gummy gravy that's both sweet and beefy but also thick with the flavor of spices such as star anise.

Though the noodles were delicious, it was a neighboring food stall, Kway Guan Huat, that stole the show with its popiah, a Chinese summer roll filled with a host of ingredients including crab, sauteed turnip, fish paste, lettuce and chili sauce. The stall has been selling popiah since 1938 and remains a place Singaporeans from all parts of the island are willing to drive to just for a summer roll.

There are drawbacks to dining in such establishments: If you are a woman and you're wearing heels or anything fairly dressy, you're likely to be given the hairy eyeball and perhaps even propositioned. There are dangers for men, too.

Chef Willin Low, who owns the upscale Wild Rocket restaurant in Singapore, said he often eats in Geylang on nights when he's not cooking. On a recent trip, he parked along a particularly dark and seedy road because he couldn't find a space anywhere else. "As I was walking from my car to the main road, this car full of friends from church stopped and said, 'Um, Willin, what are you doing here?' " he said.

Not all stalls are cheap: Sin Huat Eating House, which Anthony Bourdain recently included on his list of "13 Places to Eat Before You Die" for Men's Health magazine, serves up heavenly crab noodles that come with massive claws and legs that will keep you busy for quite a while. But those crab noodles, a main dish that would probably serve a family of three at the most, will set you back nearly $80. The place also has an especially bare-bones setting, even by coffee-shop standards: On the night we went in June, the restaurant's lights would periodically flicker and go dark for several long seconds before coming back on. Our table by the grimy, greenish fish tanks also offered us front-row seats to the sweaty cooks reaching into the tanks up to their armpits to scoop out shellfish whenever a customer placed an order.

It can be hard not to be affected by the plight of your fellow customers. On a recent trip to Cafe Supunsa in Orchard Towers, my friends Jeanette and Eudon and I ravenously attacked garlicky chicken wings, basil chicken, a massive hotpot of deliciously sour tom yum soup and a spicy salad of julienned papaya topped with crackling dried shrimp and roasted peanuts. As the hunger subsided, we suddenly became aware of our surroundings.

The waves of weary young girls wearing too little clothing and too much makeup were ceaseless. Purposefully, they would stop in for a quick meal, a respite in their nightly onslaught. Suddenly we felt a bit guilty about our relative good fortune, and our food euphoria began to wear off.

Avoiding one another's eyes, we quietly paid our bill and left.

Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan is a freelance writer whose food memoir, "A Tiger in the Kitchen," will be published in 2011. She blogs at http://www.atigerinthekitchen.com.

J.B. Ah Meng, No. 2, Lorong 23, 011-65-6741-2677. Open 5 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. Prices $4.25 to $14.

Geylang Clay Pot Rice, 639 Lorong 33, 011-65-6744-4574 or 011-65-6744-3619. Open 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., 5 p.m. to midnight. Prices $6 to $21.

Rochor Beancurd House, 745 Geylang Rd., 011-65-6748-3989. Open 24 hours. Drinks and desserts 65 cents to $2.15.

The Beef House, 97 Joo Chiat Rd., 011-65-9472-2601. Open 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Bowls $2.50 to $4.25, depending on size.

Kway Guan Huat, 95 Joo Chiat Rd., 011-65-6344-2875. Open 10:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. Rolls $1.40 or $2.50, depending on filling.

Sin Huat Eating House, 659/661 Geylang Rd., 011-65-6744-9755. Open 6:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. Prices $35 to $85.

Cafe Supunsa, 400 Orchard Rd., #02-36; 011-65-6737-0223. Open 11 a.m. to 6 a.m. Prices $3.50 to $14.

-- C.L.T.

Le Sandwich Takes a Bite Out of French Tradition

FranceBy Edward Cody
Washington Post Foreign Service
Friday, June 26, 2009

PARIS, June 25 -- Ah, France, bastion of the three-hour lunch. First comes the appetizer, followed by the main course, then cheese and dessert, washed down with red wine and, along with an espresso at the finale, maybe a little cognac to enhance digestion back at the office.

Well, yes and no.

While they have not abandoned their love of food, French people increasingly are resorting to a humble sandwich for the noon meal. Some even gulp it down with a soft drink while sitting at their desks. So much so that the consumption of sandwiches in France has grown by more than a quarter over the past six years, to 1.8 billion annually, and climbed by 10 percent last year, according to market researchers.

Moreover, the change has often come at the expense of neighborhood cafes, where lunch still means a hot dish like grandma used to make and sitting around the table for an hour of conversation with friends or colleagues. The number of bars and cafes in France has fallen from 200,000 half a century ago to 38,600, according to industry associations. More than 2,000 went out of business last year alone as an indoor smoking ban took effect and the world economic crisis bit into budgets.

The shifting lunchtime habits, which are more pronounced in large cities such as Paris, are part of a social tug of war in France between the imperatives of a modern industrial economy and a long-cherished tradition of fine food produced and prepared by artisans devoted to their crafts. The increasingly common sight of a young French office worker walking down the street munching on a sandwich suggests tradition is more and more on the losing side as the years go by.

"If they were home, or near home, maybe they would have a real meal," explained Jean Rossi, a market researcher at the Gira Food Service consulting company who has investigated the sandwich phenomenon. "But their offices are one hour or more from their homes, and with their limited buying power, the sandwich is an obvious solution."

For instance, McDonald's has enjoyed rising business in France for the past five years, taking full advantage of the evolution. Income at its more than 1,100 French outlets rose by 11 percent in 2008 despite the economic crisis, the company reported.

Most French people still prefer to eat a full lunch when they can, following age-old custom in the country and its Latin neighbors, such as Spain and Italy, industry officials said. As a result, sandwich consumption per capita is still lower than in other countries. Britons, for instance, eat several times as many as Frenchmen.

"The function of a meal in France is not just to take on energy, and it never will be," cautioned Nawfal Trabelsi, vice president for marketing and communications at McDonald's in France.

But the change, Rossi and others pointed out, is that French people increasingly are willing to forgo their tradition of a sit-down lunch if they face time constraints or are low on funds. The younger they are, the more easily they make the decision, he added.

Yannis Athenes, a 24-year-old computer engineer, is one of the people Rossi was talking about. Athenes handed over about $5 one recent day for a grilled salmon sandwich prepared at a little stand outside the Benjamin Cafe on Rivoli Street, in a busy shopping district just north of the Seine. Athenes said he sits down for a full lunch whenever he can but frequently resorts to sandwiches because of a lack of time.

"The truth is," he said, holding up his sandwich, "I'm going to eat this while driving. I have appointments set up that I have to get to, and I just don't have the time to sit down for a real meal."

Xavier Mazzoni, who operates the stand, said he left his job in a traditional restaurant a little over two years ago to open the sandwich stand, renting the space from the cafe owner. As clients lined up to be served, Mazzoni, 42, said he has to get up at 5 a.m. to make the sandwiches -- tuna, chicken, ham, cheese, salmon -- but is rewarded with enough business to bring in a good living and finance a planned beach vacation this summer for his two children.

A waiter circulating among the traditional cafe tables only a few feet away acknowledged that Mazzoni's sandwich stand drains away food business from the Benjamin, which advertises in gold letters painted on the wall that it offers "traditional cuisine."

"But we have to live with it," he said.

As he set down a cola for one 20-something woman with swept-back hair, she pulled a sandwich out of her bag and bit into it. Unmoved, the waiter shuffled off to tend to other customers.

The problem is, Mazzoni said, that about five other stands have opened up in the neighborhood since his arrival to try to take advantage of the sandwich boom. Across France, the number of shops and stands selling sandwiches has risen to more than 32,000, doing about $13 billion in business, industry research shows.

But the surge in the new sales pattern may slump a little in 2009; since the beginning of this year, Mazzoni noted, the economic crisis has produced a dip even in sandwich consumption, with some of his previously steady customers reverting to bringing a lunch pail to the office.

Part of the most recent sandwich boom, particularly last year's steep rise, can be attributed to the crisis, which has carved into food budgets even in a country where many businesses subsidize employee lunches. A sandwich and soft drink in Paris run between $4 and $6, while a sit-down lunch easily hits $18 to $20 even in a simple cafe.

But the increase in sandwich consumption also reflects a long-term generational change in the way French people, particularly the urban young, view their noontime meal. Although older people cling to the idea that a full meal is a necessary part of the day, those under 40 think nothing of grabbing a sandwich if it will save money or time. For an up-and-coming French businessman, lunch may not be for wimps, but it has become expendable.

First-class business travelers on the three-hour train between Paris and Brussels in the 1980s, for instance, used to enjoy long lunches served by waiters in crisp white tunics who, for a price, proposed four courses and poured good wine into crystal glasses. The same trip now takes a little over an hour; travelers have the choice in a bar car between club sandwiches or "wraps" that they can carry back to their seats with plastic cups for airline-style mini-bottles of wine or cans of beer.