Photos from Singapore: Food and Restaurant (II)

Continued from the previous ...

Fortunately, the culinary mishap was a freak accident. I later tried French, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, American and British cuisines, all in their specialty restaurants, and I never regretted ordering anything. Of course, there was this time when I ordered a dessert because it looked fabulous on the menu, only to discover it was all marshmallows—the  vile ones. I gulped down the entire bowl of the dessert with crushed ice, so that its taste would not linger around in my mouth.

Singaporeans, who share our staple diet of Rice and Wheat, have come up with interesting ways of eating traditional food. Invented perhaps by some hapless mother at Mosburger whose child would simply not eat rice, the Rice Burger is one innovative way to eat Masu-bhat. Instead of the regular buns, this burger has outer crust made entirely of rice. Inside, it has a big chunk of fried chicken with gravy, and tomato sauce. It’s like the everyday masu-bhat-achar, boring for too many people, went inside a telephone booth, changed his clothes and turned into Bhat-Burger, the beloved superhero of many kids who don’t like traditional rice, but love him. Also, our simple Roti is no longer interesting for Singaporeans, so it’s called roti-prata, comes in packets, and can be cooked by 2-minute heating. My requests for Roti were never comprehended, but Prata was universally understood.

And then there was this freakish thing—Singaporean Donuts do not have holes. It bothered me throughout my entire stay there: if it doesn’t have holes, why should it ever be called a donut? It should be called pastry or sweet burger or something else, but definitely not donut. And yet, millions of Singaporeans eat this wonderful bakery item every day, calling it a donut, unaware that they have been fooled into using a misnomer by commercial giants like Dunkin’ Donuts and Donut Factory. I understand that Singapore is not the only country with Donuts without holes, but law-abiding people as they are, they should start the wave of correcting the name of this delicious delicacy.

My rendezvous with the culinary heaven ended on a fine note: on the return flight, Thai Airways kept filling me to the brim, and even though the food was not exquisite in any way, it was way much better than the bhat and roti I have here every day. But perhaps, some day, some daring entrepreneur with come up with something refreshingly new yet deceptively simple: that will make even the dullest of meals exciting and adventurous. Until then, I wait, cherishing the memories of the culinary heaven I was in.