6 years of loyal prata service. I remember my first time, hand in father’s hand, unaware of what jewels I was to behold. Crispy, chewy jewels that is.
Only for those who cannot resist a crisp, crunch and crackle. The holy trinity. Some people actually dislike such a texture, and prefer instead a more doughy and dog-eared chewiness. I quite like that too, but this is top-notch, unturndownable stuff. Nothing I love more than a good prata breakfast when I’m firmly set in my unhealthy-and-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-nourish-my-body sort of mindset. Really, it’s typically one of those hopelessly lazy Sunday mornings whereby my father and I look at each other and go, “Yes, prata.”
So we go. We come in our shorts, the lovely Indian guys take down our orders entirely by memory (due to years of hard experience and perhaps inherent talent). We are the inferior ones in their exotic prata world. We sit up straight before gradually descending into caveman slouches, digging excitedly into whatever’s in front of us. The CC syndrome, I’ll call it.
I will politely point out that this has got to be one of the best curries around in Singapore. And yes ignore the unsightly contact between the kosong and (usually quite) dirty table. A succulent, almost fishy aroma dominates each casual metal plate of curry. It almost spills over, promising to do the same on your plate of prata. It promises a lot, and you trust the curry like an old friend. Coats everything with a good, chunky layer of greasy love. A munificent coat. It’s more important than enough butter on french toast, to be honest.
Their menu is delightfully extensive. No skimping on the options here. Everything is laid out in appealing lists: banana, honey, onion and cheese, chicken floss (guilty pleasure), chocolate, egg and so on. Don’t forget your kopi or teh.
This is precisely what I love about this place; the classic traditional comfort (albeit rather garish orange and blue decor), good food and consistency. Each time. You will most certainly receive your plate in less than 10 minutes, if not for some large and annoying crowd. But patience, please. You will come and you shall experience the magnificent original invention that is the almighty prata. So crisp you might cry, and so wonderfully chewy on the inside that you will forget going anywhere else on a Sunday morning.
Welcome my two lovely younger sisters, routinely downing their iced milos. The tissue prata here like to make a grand and rather concave entrance. Never scaly, never limp like the real stuff I blow my nose with.
Delicate and layered. Break the golden, honey-drenched arches down to reveal the sharp icicles of prata. I’m the type who doesn’t mind stuff half-burnt, and prata is no exception. I may come across as lenient in this category now, but I have no regrets. This prata place is an old friend still holding on to youth. Trendy in flavour, trustworthy in service.
6 years. I plan to go again since I haven’t done so in a while, just to relive memories and let people scoff at my garlicky, sticky fingers. Parading my good hygiene.
138 Casuarina Road