Chi Tze Char

Tze Char or Wokshops are the greasy spoon diners of Singapore. They’re unpretentious, usually located in residential neighborhoods or near commercial or industrial districts serving those of us who have to work for a living. The menu is invariably a copy of the original document, presenting a solid foundation of a variety of noodle and rice dishes upon which classics such as sweet sour pork ribs, cereal prawns, and sometimes crab are added for breadth.
Chi, prima facie, is just another tze char joint. It is run, very efficiently, by a brother from the Mainland, there are si fu from Malaysia behind 3 burners who work the woks like rented mules, churning out a mouthwatering progression of dishes as you stand, gawk and then order. But come here more than once and you begin to scratch the surface to find inconsistencies with your first impression. The wok hei (I don’t rightly know the right Anglo phraseology that can adequately express it’s full meaning) is strong with this one. It comes through each dish, in the first bite or sip, that fiercely independent character of flavor. Then there are the subtle nuances, a classic dish presented in a slightly different way, off kilter, taking you by pleasant surprise. The Yue Kuang He (moonlight hor fun) is a good example of this mischievous wok play. An offering of flat rice noodles, beef and sprouts co-​mingling with in a hell-​broth of dark sauce, fish sauce and rice wine and made a family by their brief sojourn through the si fu’s wok; enticing enough already, one would think, but wait, whats’s that nestled in the still steaming spawn of the wok? A single raw egg dusted with white pepper, the yellow liquid yolk still just visible. You are gently encouraged by the brother from the Mainland to break the runny yolk into the steaming noodles to continue «cooking» this dish. Pure genius. Your ecstasy is made complete with your first steaming mouthful.
Oh yeah. The crab is good too…