Text 19267, 99 rader
Skriven 2014-11-09 02:26:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Asia 247
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We met up in the lobby with my NZ friends Glenys and Jeff and
sorted out the day. I convinced the girls to accompany me to
Mang Kiko, an outside stall down between Orchard and Somerset;
Jeff was meeting other friends elsewhere. It was a brisk 10-min
walk, and we got there a tad early for lunch. The guy was
open, but he was still doing prep when we got there, so we
went off to find some beers, a perennially good way to
while away time. When we returned, he was just ready to go
- we were the second party to be served and got pretty much
our pick, which of course was a combination of roast chicken
and roast pork belly, both moist, done to a turn, exemplary.
I should have got some sisig (chopped pig head), which comes
highly recommended ... maybe there wasn't any, I forget. On
the side you get rice and unlimited hot-sour broth. If you
want vegetables, there are self-serve relishes including
carrot/onion/cucumber pickle available. Helped by Tigers
from the nearby supermarket we ate pretty well.

It was time to subway it to the Conrad Singapore, an annual
treat for me, as it's a fine place to stay in general, plus
they treat me exceptionally well. Sad to say, the rates are
pretty high, so I can't afford to stay here all the time.
There is now a MRT station within five minutes' stroll from
the hotel, which is a great convenience: one does have to
hump one's bags up and down a couple sets of stairs to get
there, though.

As usual, when the front desk saw my reservation, they
declined to check us in, instead walking us to the elevator
and using their card to access us into the lounge. This is
of course a touching little ritual, but it wastes their and
our time, doubling the checkin process.

The exceedingly deferential concierge gave me the corner
room on the lounge floor, as they usually do if it hasn't
been spoken for by the likes of monitor. Lilli got next door,
an equal but perhaps less prestigious spot.

We returned to the executive lounge, where we found our pals
Greg and Brendan. Followed by Chris, Pete, Pete, and Bundy,
named after the rum. Many glasses of Australian Shiraz
(mediocre but cheap at twice the price) and much hilarity.

Time to wash up and head off to the big event at a new Jumbo
that we'd not seen before.

Chris met with us downstairs, and we took the 77 bus to
Dempsey Hill. This might seem sensible, but the savings was
like $5 for the three of us, and the bus lets one off at the
base, from which it is a bit of a bumpy uphill hike to where
the action is. Most of the crew were already here when we
arrived, but some continued to trickle in, so, thank the
gods, we were not last.

We split up according to our culinary interests. At my table
my friend and sometime protector Steve Lesser and various
others had taken charge of ordering, relieving me of the onus,
so we got no, repeat no, land animal dishes. What we got:

drunken prawns - I forget who ordered this, over my demur;
apparently, one of his friends had said that he had to try
this once in his life. Well, we ended up figuring once was
enough. It was strongly flavored with ginseng and other
medicinal herbs along with the rice wine; not worth the
price, though the prawns themselves were tender, sweet, and
very flavorful;

steamed garoupa - exemplary, with just a touch of that
bitterness that fish often have but tender and flaky;

chilli crab - the usual;

black pepper crab - the usual, and owing to the lack of
sweetness, I think preferable;

fried mantou, very good; steamed mantou, I didn't try;

kangkong two ways - garlic and sambal, the former very
garlicky and tasty, the other salty and a little fishy but
exceedingly umamiish. We stuffed the few empty interstices
with seafood fried rice that I thought costly and ordinary.

On the whole, a good meal but a little more expensive than
I think it had to be (we had pulled out most if not all of
the stops here).

Taxis, a whole string of them, to the party at an enormous
suite at the Hyatt, where more people than myself were
struck by the availability of Cuban rum, and various
versions of Havana Club and others were at hand.

It was a large, noisy, and jolly party, and it wasn't until
the wee hours that we tottered home via taxi, the only time
I would have liked to have stayed at the Sheraton or the
Marriott rather than the Conrad.

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