IndoChine — Perfect Symmetry for the Senses |
| Starting the
Tuesday with a client dictating urgent demands on the
phone, dinner at the latest food row lined with trendy
types was not at the top of my after hours 'to do' list.
Maggi noodles, Haagen Daz butter pecan and cozying up on
the couch for the season finale of 'Buffy, The Vampire
Slayer' — that was solace. However, promises had
been made and promises had to be kept. So wearing a
scowl, I trudged to the IndoChine on Club Street at a
leaden pace. Walking into Bar Sa Vanh (Sa Vanh means 'heaven' in Laotian), the first floor bar of IndoChine, the trauma of the day took a backseat and something inside me stirred and I became alive. It could have been the whiff of jasmine as we walked through the wooden entrance to an exotic subterranean cavern of banyan trees and flickering tealights. It could have been the luminous gold standing Buddha statue gazing serenely over a luxurious 6-metre opium bed, plush Thai cushions and sandstone carvings. It could have been the relaxed, comely faces in snug groups looking 'oh-so comfortable' with acid jazz playing unobtrusively in the background. Whatever it was, my senses were engaged. |
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The centrepiece of
the bar is a 3-storey high waterfall which trickles into
a koi pond housing a huge urn. Sipping red wine to the
hypnotic sounds of gurgling water and acid jazz was more
relaxing than any spa experience I have known. The music
is kept to such a level that it does not inhibit
conversation. A wooden platform bridge across the pond
leads you to a more intimate sanctuary of the bar. A
statute of Urma, the Goddess of Fertility is the resident
guardian of this conclave. The crowd, largely mature
professionals, seemed all too familiar with their
surroundings. It was hard for me to imagine that a bar
which threw its doors open just over three months ago
could induce an atmosphere of such camaraderie. And
instead of feeling like an awkward newcomer, I felt right
at home. IndoChine's mantra, Roland Nicolich, the General
Manager explained, is that every effort will be made to
meet whatever the customer wants. In Roland's view, Bar
Sa Vanh is a totally different entity from the al
fresco IndoChine on Waterloo Street (where food is
served in individual portions) and the IndoChine on Club
Street (communal dining). In the early days of the bar,
someone had asked for a vodka-Ribena. There was no Ribena
in the house that day. Now, there are two bottles of
Ribena on standby everyday. Just in case. Unnoticed, an hour had passed in the bar. Warm, mellow and in expectation of what could further whet our appetite, we climbed a steep stairway to the second floor dining area. The thematic subdued lighting, stone carvings and Buddha statues pervaded the restaurant as well. Lined against one side of the wall were charming private alcoves covered discreetly by wooden shutters. We were led to a table that overlooked the pond below. From this vantage point, you could actually see the waterfall streaming down the textured wall and the koi making patterns in the pond. Appropriately, the music here was of the lilting instrumental persuasion. |
| Seven entrees,
five salads, two soups, five meat and poultry dishes, six
seafood dishes, four vegetarian dishes and rice/noodles
make up the Indochine menu. Though by no means extensive,
the menu covers a spectrum of Vietnamese, Laotian and
Cambodian cuisine wide enough to tantalise any palate. As
was explained to us, the difference between the three
types of cuisine lies in the spiciness. IndoChinese food
as a whole tends to include more greens than the typical
Thai menu. To facilitate informal communal dining, most
of the dishes can be ordered in either standard portions
(serving 2-3 persons) or in large ones (serving 4-6
persons). Sai Kog (Laotian Sausage) was obviously a firm favourite with the diners. When we asked for it as an entree, we were told that it was sold out. You wrap a fresh lettuce leaf with pork sausage flavoured with herbs and spices, chilli, peanuts, lemon and ginger in the style of a betel leaf and pop it in your mouth for an exquisite culinary explosion on the tastebuds. The disappointment of missing out on the Sai Kog was more than compensated for by the Goi Cuon (Prawn Roll). These bite-sized delectable rolls made up of sliced prawns and lettuce gently rolled in fresh mint and encased in rice paper would make excellent hors d'oeuvres at any party. The usual favourite Cha Gio (Vietnamese Spring Roll), however, was uninspiring at best. Though the filling of minced pork, crab and prawn, mushroom, bean vermicelli, lettuce and mint was no worse off than any I have tasted in other Vietnamese eateries, the deep fried rice paper tended to be flabby and sourish. Both the prawn roll and the Vietnamese spring roll were accompanied by similar fish sauces. Some variation in the amount of chilli and garlic in the sauces would have been more titillating. |
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The salad that
followed was a most refreshing dish and a highlight of
the meal for me. Fresh watercress, sliced tomato,
cucumber, mint, egg, roasted peanuts and lightly fried
shallots tossed together were so crisp and crunchy with
every bite that it felt like these came straight out of a
back garden. What floored me was the Luangphrabang
egg dressing. Nothing short of spectacular, the pale
yellow dressing is a piquant mix of hardboiled egg yolk
handgrinded into lime juice. Surprisingly, the light
dressing showed no yolk globules but was homogeneous in
texture and colour. It had me unashamedly slurping up the
last drops from my plate. When we asked about the genius
behind this concoction, we were told that 'Aunty', as the
Laotian Kitchen Director is fondly known, whips up these
specialities on a whim. Ragout (pronounced 'Ra Goo'), described as a French beef stew IndoChine style, was another inventive delight where the time honoured beef stew was given a dash of originality and colour by replacing potatoes with Asian sweet potatoes. The generous beef cubes were of a melt-in-your-mouth tenderness and the stew's spicy tangy taste was an ideal foil to the sweetness of the potatoes and carrots. Served with a baguette, each dip of the bread in the stew was lip smacking sumptuous. The recipe for the stock seemed to be a closely guarded secret and was mentioned on the menu as only 'a blend of IndoChine spices'. |
| Instead of the butter garlic prawns on the menu, we were recommended to try something not on the menu — the king prawns with a sour curry sauce, which was part of a fish dish. This unlikely combination was a rewarding mix which would tempt the most sated appetite. Imagine a light fish curry blended with sambal prawns — a complex composite of spicy, sweet and sour. Also from the seafood section of the menu, we felt compelled to sample the Mok Pa Mekong Delta when it was explained that this was the Indochine variation of our local otak. However, unlike the minced version that is found in almost every corner of Singapore, the Mok Pa is a succulent fish fillet with a thick spicy coconut curry wrapped in banana leaf and steamed to infuse the flavours. Remarkably, the fillet retains its original whitish fish colour and only hints of the curry flavour in the mouth. |
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By this time,
there was no room for anything else but dessert. The Sapphire
of Pailin — fresh waterchestnut wrapped in
potato starch drowned in coconut milk and served with
crushed ice — came highly recommended, but much to
our chagrin, was sold out as well. The alternative, a
very French pumpkin custard with ice cream was yet
another welcome revelation. I have never been a pumpkin
proponent but this clever convection of custard cooked to
perfection on an unadorned pumpkin strip and laced with a
refreshingly light vanilla ice cream on the side won my
unreserved stamp of approval. Food at IndoChine boasts no fussy pretensions. Aunty's philosophy is that everything on the plate should be edible. In keeping with this, the white cutlery and white Thai tablecloth are purposefully kept simple and utilitarian. On a full house Tuesday night, the rather harried staff at both the bar and the restaurant remained solicitous. If IndoChine could be faulted in any way, it would be the space constraint. The tables are set rather tightly in the restaurant and walking room is a luxury. The unisex convenience a la Ally McBeal at the back of the bar is also a tiny cranny. A promise to a friend to have dinner had drawn me to this lone Asian restaurant along Club Street. When I walked out of IndoChine close to midnight, it was with unaccustomed gratification and a realisation that whatever the drains and strains of the working day may be, a sanctum of simple sensual pleasures awaits along this narrow street. Maggi noodles, butter pecan and the couch were no match for what IndoChine had to offer. 'Buffy', of course, was on tape. |
Yee Chiau Sing
Chow Peng & Partners
[Postscript: Opening in a few weeks, a gallery on the third floor will offer traditional IndoChinese artefacts to those who wish to take away a piece of their experience at IndoChine.]
