Appam-madness.

APP-PAMMM.

Would one have imagined that a simple two-syllable word would hold within it such divinity and heavenly delight?

The appam is essentially a pancake made with fermented rice batter and coconut milk. It is a staple diet and a cultural synonym of the South Indian population, mainly the Tamils (according to Wiki).

In Singapore however, the appam is considered a breakfast or tea-time dish, largely due to the presence of copious amounts of coconut milk and red sugar that go into savouring appam the right way and which Singaporean Indians tend to equate with dessert.

There are two main appam outlets in Tekka. One is Ananda Bhavan along the main Serangoon Road stretch. The other is the Madras New Woodlands restaurant along Upper Dickson Road.

I have tried the appams in both places, and my personal favourite is Madras New Woodlands restaurant.  While it is difficult to pin point the difference in taste, because there are no secret ingredients (both outlets prepare their appams in full public view), the appams in Madras New Woodlands have one specialty, or should I say, marketing advantage: they are only available after 3pm. Being complete suckers for invented exclusiveness that makes us feel like we have unearthed some treasure-box that only opens at 3pm, patrons throng the restaurant as early as an hour before, eager to get a table closest to the main attraction located in the middle of the restaurant.

You see, at Madras New Woodlands, they make a big show out of making appam.

Antiquated stove in the centre of the dining area- check.

Antiquated one-cooker stoves- check.

An equally antiquated appam guru manning the stove-check.

Plastic bucket of prized batter- check.

Rows of coconut milk and assorted sugars- check.

Everyone watches eagerly as the chef scoops up a generous amount of batter and lets it fall gently into the pit of a small appam wok. He then covers it with an old, wooden cover and waits patiently, eyes never off the flame which is key in making fresh, perfectly rounded appams. As he lifts the cover off the wok, the waft of fresh coconut fills the air and there is a collective orgasmic gasp that escapes everyone’s lips.

Yes, the appams are ready to be devoured.

Servers are immediately despatched to send over piping hot appams flanked by tiny steel tumblers of coconut milk and red sugar (limitless top-up).

ALWAYS leave the center of the appam for last, and start with the crispy, browned edges- it makes the journey to the soft, coconut-infused center all the more exhilarating. Tear a piece from the sides and dip it in the sweetened coconut milk. When it is sufficiently drenched in milk, dip it in the red sugar. Into your mouth it goes. Enjoy the crunchiness. Feel the milk coat your insides.

The general rule is that the center of the appam needs to be handled like a young virgin- slowly and gently.

Personally, I love teasing open the smooth center just a tiny weeny bit and filling it with coconut milk. I let it sit for a while and nicely absorb the milk, before dunking in the whole soft core in red sugar. Oh, the sheer joy of biting into that sugary lump. Like all the judges love to say in English-translated Iron Chef episodes: the taste just explodes in your mouth!

I also tend to be a little OTT and so, will not leave the table unless I finish drinking up all leftover coconut milk and choke myself silly with any remaining red sugar.

Hey, don’t judge me.

Aside from the fabulousity of the appams, I like the service at Madras New Woodlands, because here, unlike at other eateries, time literally slows to a halt. In the ten years that I have patronised the place, nothing has changed. The same servers and chef, the same time slot for appam, the same decor and the same furniture. A small transistor radio at the bill counter belts out old, nasal 60s Tamil songs, and the cashier- another ancient-looking Keralite woman, bats her eyelids in rhythm to the whining melodies as she tallies your bill. You literally feel as though you have been transported to another time.

Yes, a  time when there was no such thing as a queue. You picked a table, you waited for a server to take your orders, you awaited your food, you paid your bill andyou left saying thank-you-bye-bye-god-bless-you. Absolutely no fuss.

In Madras New Woodlands, this is still the blissful situation.

Never in ten years, have I ever seen a long, boisterous queue at Madras New Woodlands. No servers yelling orders from one end of the restaurant to the other. No colour TV playing masala music videos and distracting you from your meals. No raucous laughter.

For some reason, even new patrons are quickly hushed into adapting to the serene atmosphere, and they learn to speak softly, smile and thank the elderly servers, and graciously agree to second helpings.

That is how any amazing dining experience should be- it should cow you into submission.

If you make a trip to Tekka one of these days in the afternoon, and you are not in the mood for a briyani (unfortunately, I am always in the mood for briyani AND appam), why not head down to Madras New Woodlands to submit to some old world Appam charm?

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XOXO,

Bhav

Khana @ Khansama

When you ask people where to go for the best briyani, more often than not someone would say Alauddin Briyani at Tekka Market or Bismillah Briyani near the old Haniffa Textiles at the end of Dunlop Street.

Obviously, this person has not tried the briyani there, because in my personal opinion, it is nothing close to greatness. Hell, it is not even close to ok.

© keropokman

You will see snaking queues and you will see little laminated news articles, extolling the best briyani in Singapore. You will see a photo of former Pressie S R Nathan with the stall owner. You will awed by an endorsement from Channel U.

But all these things may have been from another era when Alauddin Briyani was fabulous. Because now, it is not. The customer service is bad also, you are not entitled to ask questions when you reach the start of the queue. Just order, collect and go.

Since I swore off Tekka market eateries (it’s amazing how there are so many eateries and none are acceptable in standard), I was in a constant limbo because I knew not where to go when I had a briyani craving.

One day, I took a cab and while bantering with the cabbie, I asked him casually if he knew where to go for the best briyani.

“Khansama,” he answered.

And I rue that day.

Since then, I have made like fifteen trips to Khansama. In less than three months. There are two outlets, one at Science Park and another one in Little India.

And although I am a mostly chicken-meat person, I have been converted to mutton, thanks to Khansama.

Their mutton briyani is to die for, because not only does it promise the orgasmic type of goodness, it is also very calorific. Good things don’t come easy and cheap. You have to pay for it in some way. I am likely to die from high cholesterol because Khansama has dispossessed me of all discipline and sense- I go back there the way a drug addict keeps going back to the drug dealer. I am ashamed when the waiters greet me with a knowing smile, indicating that they know me and my penchant for their briyani too well. It does not make me feel better when the waiter comes over, bearing a toothy smile and asks, “The same mutton briyani, Madam?”

Well then, they say good things must share. Things that are likely to kill you, you better share too. Because when it comes to food, I know I am not the only one who loses all reason and succumbs.

I thought I will do you the favour and provide a very brief visual tour of the place and the food. This one is at the Science Park outlet, which although is less crowded, is creepy in a lot of ways.

When you enter, the place gives you a sure sign of what is to come in the long term.

This huge buffalo greets you at the door, “Welcome to slow but certain death”, it seems to say.

For those who do not know, Hindus believe that Yama’s (God of Death) steed of choice is the buffalo. He mounts it and swings his noose wildly, and if you are unlucky, he sweeps you up with his noose and hauls you back to the underworld, where you get served an assortment of punitive drama, depending on the number of sins you accumulated during your short time on Earth.

Then suddenly, you are transported to a Punjabi village. You see life-sized models of women preparing food in traditional ways, using clay pots, spinning butter churns to make ghee and rolling flat chappatis on stone slabs. You see a huge tandoor, a traditional clay oven used to bake chappatis and grill chicken/mutton kebabs. Very nostalgic.

You see a Sethji, doing his accounts while smoking his shisha.

The thing that annoys me most about the ambience of Khansama at Science Park, though, are the green fairy lights that hang loosely from the ceiling in the evenings. It gives patrons and all food a ghastly glow. Green light bounces off the top of your head as if your spacecraft is just taking off. Obviously, Sethji has not had the sense to invest in an interior designer.

These are the ugly fairy lights in the daytime.

Other than that, the ambience is relatively quiet with soft Punjabi pop songs playing in the background. The waiters are prompt, speak good English and are very knowledgeable about the menu. They are also dressed very smartly, vests, bow ties and all.

Now the exciting part, the food.

© Huang Guofeng

As mentioned, my favourite is the mutton briyani. The mark of good briyani is not tonnes of curried meat buried in briyani rice. The meat must be moist but not soggy. It must be firm to the touch but not chewy. It should melt when you bite into it. If you have to chew more than five times to masticate the meat, then it’s too tough. The meat and the masala must be fused well, and you should not be able to detect one or the other separately.

And I can attest to the fact that Khansama does deliver on all the above criterion. The rice is also well-cooked, not greasy one bit. Portions are huge, so be prudent when ordering. Don’t be greedy like me- I ordered one pot for myself, then whined then it was too much but licked the pot dry eventually.

The tandoori chicken is something I avoid at most North Indian restaurants. Because most restaurants tend to serve it dry and when you bite into it, you feel like you are chewing on shoelaces. But the tandoori chicken in Khansama is moist and succulent. It is a real eye-opener, because you don’t expect something that looks char-grilled to taste so yummy.

The naan is so-so, but I especially like the fried prawns. They are infused with spices and the fried batter is really crunchy. And of course, the prawns are fresh because they are springy to the bite, and not rubbery/powdery.

I always conclude my meals with dessert, but somehow, whenever I eat Indian meals, the only dessert I attempt is raita (chopped cucumber-chillies-onions in sour cream/yoghurt). I always cringe when I see people eat gulab-jamuns because I have a very hazy memory of biting into one and recoiling in diabetic shock.

After a long time, I decided to order gulab-jamun (Indian donut-balls soaked in syrup) during my maiden visit to Khansama, because the cabbie highly recommended it.

Oh My.

© Huang Guofeng

It was still very sweet, but it was warmed nicely and the cheesy content was so soft, it releases a deluge of rose-scented syrup when you bite into it. I was very surprised I liked it. I had to hold myself back from tilting the container of syrup into my mouth once I was done with the sweet balls. I did not want to jeopardise my reputation in the restaurant any further. But ambrosia, it was.

That wraps up my brief visual tour of Khansama and the yummy khana (food in Hindi) available at really affordable prices at its outlets. I did not take pictures of the liquor and alcoholic beverages available at the place, but you do not have to worry about selections, because you would already know that where Indians go, booze will follow.

Looking at all these pictures makes me wanna go to Khansama again. BUT I JUST WENT YESTERDAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
Ugh.

Masala Tea!

 

When one speaks of the ultimate Indian beverage, one thinks of toddy. But since we are not big fans of toddy, we will skip to the next best beverage- Masala Tea!

Most things in Indian hands never stay original. When tea became boring, the Indians decided to add masala to it. A curried adventure in a cup. Or steel tumbler, as the natives in India would prefer.

Personally, nothing excites my palates and hits all the right spots more (the Ts and Gs and what have you) than a cup of hot, steaming masala chai.

Although its birthplace was South Asia, the masala tea has so many variations, depending on the region, cultural and individual tastes and of course, the ease of access to different spices.

The Singaporean version is one that has a strong tea-and-milk base brewed with a wee-bit of ginger and a generous handful of aromatic spices, like cloves, cardamom, etc. When the scent of this tea teases your olfactory sensations, nothing else seems as divine and inviting.

One of my favourite places to enjoy a hot cup of masala chai is at Sakunthala’s restaurant.
They have three outlets, and I managed to try one at all of them (talk about thoroughness in discerning quality).

The flavour of the masala chai never disappoints; it is rich, nicely sweetened and does not have the thick tea powder-cum-ground masala residue that chokes you up and triggers a coughing frenzy when you take your last few sips.

And special commendation for all three outlets which have strived to maintain equally high standards in terms of flavour! So if you want a really gratifying cup of masala tea, venture down to any Sakunthala outlets at either 66 Race Course Road, 151 Dunlop Street or 88 Syed Alwi Road. 

The masala chai at Sakunthala’s had some close competitors.

Anjappar Restaurant at Syed Alwi Road produced a decent cup. So did Madras New Woodlands.

However, what these two restaurants could deliver in terms of a less-crowded environment and better hygiene, they could not deliver in terms of flavour!

Which in my view, is most important when deciding whether something is good enough to return to again and again. Because anyway, most Indian restaurants cannot promise to be 100% sanitary- I mean those buggers dip their fingers everywhere and into your drinks as well! Think Slumdog Millionaire. But no one I know has died from this, so no matter.

Taste is the ultimate deciding factor when it comes to Indian cuisine, and so nothing else should matter. Well, not as much anyway.

But I digress.

In terms of flavour, I would say both these restaurants produced copacetic results, but the tea was still a tad too watery for my taste. If you are a connoisseur of Indian chais, you would know that the slightest thickness in consistency can elevate the tea’s standard to a whole new level of wholesomeness.

And then there are those that could do so much better. I have had masala tea in so many other restaurants/coffee stalls that use those ready-made teabags. I mean, come on. Why so lazy?And we Indians still need to wonder why people flock to Ya Kun for coffee and tea but not our Indian stalls? Those type of franchises make an effort, dammit!

When you patronise stalls that use ready-made tea bags, you know you are drinking substandard masala tea, especially when you can SMELL the masala but not TASTE the masala.

And then of course, the appearance of the masala tea is another dead giveaway. It would look something like dull, sallow water with a lighter, watery consistency on the top and a murky, muddy mess settling on the bottom of the cup. Stirring it would have little effect (in fact, stirring it might be worse because now you can’t even drink the safer, clearer water that constituted the top layer). In short, bad masala tea should look like one of those samples that NEA collects during monsoon months.

Hope that tip was useful. Next time, you are handed a cup of masala tea, you know how to check for standard.

For those who want to enjoy masala chai in the comfort of your own home however, here is a simple recipe I picked out from somewhere-can’t-remember-where and thought was pretty good. The tea leaves I used for this homemade concoction are from the Three Roses brand.

Ingredients

2 cups water
1/2 cup milk/ condensed milk
2 sticks cinnamon
2 whole green cardamom pods
2 whole cloves
1 black peppercorn
Sugar/honey, if not using condensed milk
1 heaped tablespoon of tea leaves or 2 teabags

Directions

Bring water and milk to a boil in a pan. Add the spices and sugar. Keep the mixture at a low simmer so that it is still bubbling. Add the tea leaves or if you really cannot help it, ready-made tea bags (chut-chut!). Keep stirring until the tea dissolves into a nice rich brown colour. Taste and see if you think it’s sweet enough, and once you are satisfied, you can strain the tea and serve it warm.

Tip: Goes best with masala dosai and a masala movie! Good for when you are having the nose runs too!

Enjaai, makkals!