Hawk

More piquant and clear than your usual coconut-heavy curries, with the generous portion of taupok playing sponge rather admirably. The fish head itself is acceptably sized for its price ($18), whilst elsewhere the soft yam cubes make for a nice starchy diversion. 3.9/5

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/09/fish-head-curry-na-na-homemade-curry/

The dark rage that this $16.80 dish ignites is equivalent to the feeling you get when you realise that obnoxious, Phua Chu Kang mole-above-her-lip, banshee-esque secretary from the other department who once stomped on your shoes while queuing ahead of you at the ayam penyet stall managed to get on the M1 iPhone early registration list…which you narrowly missed out on because minutes before the registration closed you needed to take an unexpected emergency dump.

The titular balls had the decidedly unoily, dry, tired stickiness of half-licked envelope adhesive lining after an afternoon soccer game, and the parents of fragrance and flavour probably forbade them from going outdoors that day because of the haze. The beansprouts probably stood too long in the shower, whilst the soup had as much personality as one of those footpath spiderwebs along Thomson Road. The chicken feebly tries to pick up the slack, but what’s the point really? 1.6/5

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/09/hainanese-chicken-rice-balls-the-tiong-bahru-club-singapura/

One of the most stressful and terrifying supper experiences one can undergo, with a most handsome reward...if you survive the onslaught.

Come midnight, once everything is ready, the stall lights come on, and (like when you alert the Witch in Left 4 Dead) the horde closes in via stampede to instantly form two queues - one to pick the ingredients, and one to place your order and make payment. It is essential to go in a minimum party of two and assign the relevant roles beforehand if you want to reach home before daybreak. You will feel cold limp sweaty flesh caress your body parts from behind as the ravenous zombies dart for taupok and brinjal below and above your arms; you will hear desperate cries of "aiyah just 随便 (anyhow) pick lah!!" from warriors who simply want the ordeal to be over; your body will be shoved left and right by aggressive golems in the fray if you don't stand firm when you're picking your items; your patience will be worn thin when the uncivilized and daring brazenly cut queue and fling their bowl ahead of yours, in manner of skillful frisbee toss, in the bowl queue. It will be ugly.

But if you survive - and I have, precisely six times - you will be rewarded by one of the best yong tau foo around. The variety of ingredients is wonderful (their pork items in particular like their pork belly fly off the shelves), and the ikan bilis-heavy soup demands consumption in its entirety. I always ask for green chilli padi to be added, but do be warned - they add a fierce edge to the soup and will sting you without mercy if you happen to bite on them.

(There is a cheat code, like in every other game, if you wish to avoid the horrors of the above-mentioned experience - just go after 12.30am. By then, order will be restored by way of self-regulation, and all you have to do is queue for a long, long time. But where's the fun in that?)

Soon Li Yong Tau Foo is a must try. This is non-negotiable. But before you taste the best, you gotta pass the test. 4.4/5 #Hawkerpedia

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/08/yong-tau-foo-soon-li-yong-tau-foo/

When I was doing my pupillage at a law firm in Bugis, this legendary curry mee was a guilty indulgence I’d revisit over and over again for that chilli so intensely and deeply smoky, chimneys wave white flags in surrender. The uncle who manned the cashier and took my orders (and is still there til this very day) spoke not a word of Mandarin, and whenever I placed my order he would repeat it in dialect, and I would feebly use whatever bits and bobs of dialect I learnt from my parents to confirm the order. He would always ask if I wanted hiamjio, and would insist I scoop it myself as I should be the one determining my own Vulcanian destiny. The chilli means serious business – my female colleague would always take the teensiest scoop and still force back tears, whilst one of the cheeky, laddish , “I love soccer”-esque guys would whack the chilli with grand machismo…and sweat through his white shirt while constantly drying himself with three-ply tissue. #Hawkerpedia

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/08/curry-chicken-bee-hoon-mee-ah-heng-curry-chicken-bee-hoon-mee/

On this anarchic battlefield, all bets are off and you and your dining companions must divide and conquer in order to safely secure a meal. There's a queue for the cashier, who grants you a magical numbered plaque; then, you and your friends must split up and secure a table and seats in this queueless, lawless cowboy territory; finally you all sit, and wait for the servers to seek your number out and deliver you the grand prize. Were the precious ninety-five weekend minutes (!!) me and my friends had to endure across all stages of the waiting game justified? The oblong fish balls and elephantine Fuzhou fish balls were themselves gorgeous fishy beauties, but the true gems of the bowl are the slimy fish dumplings (鱼饺, or her giao) which are worth the price of admission alone. #Hawkerpedia

Essentially your standard hor fun dish, done competently and given a classy Western upgrade with enjoyably chewy ribeye. A generous sprinkling of black pepper flavours the beef rather well and the little black runts somehow find their way onto every spoonful of gravy or noodles you slurp. 3.8/5

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/07/char-grilled-ribeye-hor-fun-gardenasia/

The main dish itself is comforting and good on its own but damn, that chilli is so unbelievably magical it was likely to have been concocted by high-level white-bearded mages with pointy hats using their strongest spells. Prepared using pork lard, dried shrimp, dried chilli and Buah Keluak (!!!), the oily chilli is not particularly spicy but is subtly bitter and so flavourful, you would happily sweat like a mad pig travelling in the hot sun just to taste it in your mouth. 4/5

http://secretlifeoffatbacks.com/2015/04/teochew-kway-teow-mee-ah-hor-teochew-kway-teow-mee/

The famous wanton mee from Kok Kee hasn't changed one bit since it shifted a short distance to its new home at 27 Foch Road. The char siew and wantons are still mere concubines to the Majesty that is the killer combination of Kok Kee's secret sauce, sweet chilli and springy noodles which are more QQ than a neighbourhood salon perm job. My stomach may growl still, but it's satiated and smiley. 4/5

Essentially the laksa you love, but with fancy plastic surgery from a clinic in Paragon and a Ferragamo headband. The laksa broth was suitably light, and I loved the beancurd puffs which swell marvelously into wet, airy bags unlike some limp, uncooperative taupoks around. 3.6/5

The noodles were nicely springy, but the overall experience generally felt pretty pedestrian. The salt baked chicken thigh is clearly the star, its salty goodness and accompanying jus being the sort of thing one walks ten minutes in the sweltering heat to taste. Unfortunately it is feeling a bit bloated, fat and camera shy, so pardon its hiding in the corner away from the molesting glare of the camera. Noodles: 3.25/5 Chicken: 4/5

Very much like the ubiquitous Llao Llao, the item on offer is yummy and well-executed for what it is, but somewhere out there bitchy pixies are gesticulating and giggling at me like Harajuku schoolgirls for wasting precious moments queueing for something that's only moderately nice when there are a buttload of reasonable alternatives without having to stand in line. 3.75/5