Close the curtains, whip out the knives. Attack the Alex.
Where on earth have I been? Well then, I believe life takes over sometimes. Over even what I wanted to ascertain as good old routine. And so I have been swayed from conformity and ended up on the wrong road with a heavy heart. I missed this. The whole process of writing and a-pouring-out. Quite a lot.
Back to this review. Wild Rocket was a place I visited may, many weeks ago. A sophisticated place for all things delectably local, with a Singaporean touch on every invention and mish mash of stuffies, like mahogany on green with a dash of pink. I believe my first time was some sort of celebration with the paternal side of the family. A set menu for a party of at least 10, the appeal established on the grounds of a romantic and dimly lit cove casually thrust in the centre of the place. Oh right, and good food. Come to think of it, I should like to visit this place in the daytime, for all I remember were shades of burgundy and brown- why, even the waiter seems to have a black face. Literally, from the stretching shadows.
Airy fairy, light and cold, cold, cold. The pomelo offset the creamy sweetness of the dish doused in this wonderful coconut cream. The oriental factor settled in so appropriately and wasn’t at all annoyingly out of place. A petite starter to get the juices flowing. I actually didn’t expect it to be so tantalising, but it was and I was happy and so I looked forward to the next seam of depth in this intriguing menu.
This was a filler move.
For the vegetarian maman. I myself was surprised at how well it turned out, with succulent crabmeat and a textured mash.
Tingling, delicate, al dente, perfect. It was a tiny twirl of local goodness on a vast white thing of a plate, with the very arabian prawn (yes, the names of things alter my perception of them) sheltering each strand from any damage (oh God forbid.) But do go ahead, I implore you to not take a bite of this mini mountain of stringy bites. Isn’t the feeling of an explosion of skinny winny noodles the best in the world? When you’re in such a restaurant as this, at least, with the dim light caressing your hair and the moon watching over with a white jealousy. What can she do, for now you have are the king or queen of spaghettini treasure. The flakes added gorgeous spice, and the portion was perfect in the 10 course meal.
May I just say the best twist on this local dessert. Ever. Ever. The coconut cream shaved ice was glistening with the shower of thick gula melaka sinking into the smooth, shaven surface of the sphere, hiding the little worms of green chendol and multicoloured treasures. A local sea, if you may. I think I was halfway through when I realised that this was the one time whereby I wasn’t hit with an ounce of slight sugar-induced sickness, since all the components did not rely too heavily on each other and so the balance was absolutely spot on.
Missing these treats already. Such finesse within obvious complexity, and yet everything retained an air of refined elegance. More would be good, thanks. Brilliant, brilliant.
Wild Rocket (at Mount Emily)
10A Upper Wilkie Road