Every weekday, all across the city, the people of Singapore congregate with a single purpose: to take a picture of their lunch and then to eat it (their lunch, not the picture). In an effort to be more local, as per last month’s attempt at displaying hawker knowledge, I went to join them, iPhone camera at the ready.
Until now, my daily lunch routine was usually a toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich eaten al-desko. Not very creative, granted, but when you like toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches as much as I do - and I make a particularly good one, even though I say so myself - then why change?
What is normal for London can be very different in Singapore, however. Here, lunch is a full meal, and a strictly communal one. Our entire office empties during lunch hour, leaving me with only my toastie for company. Everyone else heads to the basement of our building, where the Food Republic outlet has hawker-style stalls offering dozens of dishes to dozens of diners.
Office workers join the queue alongside retirees and groups of teenagers in school uniform. It’s 12pm and already busy. I approach a stall called Yong Tau Foo, but realise that I have no idea what to order. There are four rows of ingredients that you have to put into a plastic bowl then hand over to them. It’s like pick’n’mix but with vegetables. The menu says ‘min 7pcs’ but I’m not sure there are seven that I even recognise.
Being English and therefore incapable of asking for help, I adopt an expression which says ‘I am carefully scrutinising the available options before making an informed decision’ while the woman behind the counter scrutinises me back like I’m an idiot. People behind me in the queue start moving in front. Still clueless, still squinting thoughtfully, I decide to stroll nonchalantly away, possibly even nodding to myself to indicate that my decision had been reached.
Dignity intact, I go to a far less intimidating stall next door, which is called Young Hawker Entrepreneurship Incubator Programme, but which I would have called Lunchpad. They are advertising Jiak Ba Bowl, and I have no idea what that is either but at least I recognise the word salmon, which appears under ‘step one: choice of protein’.
Salmon, I say to the Young Hawker.
Rice, soba, salad, she replies.
Bao, I say, because I misheard her.
Eh?
This is going well. I read the menu and see ‘step two: choice of base’. Soba, I say, as if I had said that in the first place, and even though I actually want rice.
Up to five veggies, she says.
Corn, broccoli, mushroom, I reply, reading from the menu.
Up to five, she says. This apparently means you have to choose exactly five.
Carrot, Cucumber.
Sauce, she asks.
Ginger, I say. I’m getting the hang of this. She points at the POS terminal and I tap my card, and a few minutes later, I am taking a picture of my lunch, just like a local!
And it tasted delicious. The veggies were stone cold, which was a bit weird but I assume was at least deliberate. Anyway, they were crunchy and fresh, the soba noodles tasted super-healthy, and the salmon was perfectly succulent. I wolfed the whole thing down, completely forgetting to pour over the little pot of ginger soy sauce, but not to worry. Lunch had been eaten. Success. I returned my tray, and they appreciated my kind act.
The following day, I went to a different stall and ordered wonton noodles from You Men Hong Kong Roast. The day after that I got bibimbap from Hoe Heng Korean Cuisine. I still haven’t braved the mystery ingredients of Yong Tau Foo, but I’m building up to it.
In the meantime, there is an eclectic choice to work through: Chai's Original Sliced Fish Soup, Little Hanoi Vietnamese Cuisine, Tongue Tip Express LanZhou Beef Noodles, Sergeant Hainanese Chicken Rice - by my count, almost 20 different types of cuisine.
There is not, however, a toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich stall. At least, not yet.