Ghim Moh Chwee Kueh

The stall lights were off and the auntie was scrubbing the aluminium chwee kueh moulds. Perhaps guessing that we were wandering around her stall looking for other food options, the auntie asked, «You want some? Still got leh
So we happily ordered the Ghim Moh Chwee Kway from the couple who has been running this chwee kueh stall since 1959. It is no wonder they have become a household name in Ghim Moh. The husband-​and-​wife team wake up in the wee hours to start making the chwee kueh by hands, not machines.
However, the main difference between this chwee kuey and Tiong Bahru or even Bedok ones is the chye poh (preserved radish). Ghim Moh’s ones ($ 2.40 for 8pcs) are super salty. No sesame seeds, no sugar. The preserved radish is stir-​fried with pork lard and garlic, making it extra fragrant. They are undeniably oily, but I like.
I thought the auntie was stingy on the chye poh… as they are really very very little (teochew ah pa says that the uncle tends to give toppings more generously then the auntie). But I think auntie knows it best.
A little really goes a long way.

Best Chwee Kueh «in SG, JB, and some say Batam» :D
But seriously, Ghim Moh Chwee Kueh is the best I’ve ever had. Some other chwee kuehs that I had often have this slimmy glue-​y texture that I’m not a fan of, but once I tried the ones from Ghim Moh, I sure swore not to eat chwee kueh anywhere else. The texture is firm solid, not slimmy at all. The sauce definitely has the kind of savory taste that I like.
I would suggest come here early. I went for breakfast around 9 a. m and the queue was long sia. Because it’s just that good :)

I’ve grown up with this as a kid, so I thought I may be a little biased in my love for the chwee kueh from this stall. Over the years, I got older and more adventurous, yet have not found anywhere selling chwee kueh quite like this.
The actual ‘kueh’ itself is on the right side of being solid — so many others tend to be a little jelly-​ish, or a bit too ricey, or just not quite there. The texture and bite of this kueh is the standard for me, and though the difference is not that big a deal in the overall enjoyment, I’d like to take note of this anyway because it reminds me of all the sweat and love that has gone into this hand-​made process, where the uncle rises early every morning unfailingly to build that pagoda of chwee kueh you will see behind them in the stall. For a few weeks last year I saw him with a cast around his arm, yet a warm smile on his face. I am happy knowing he is happy making us all so so happy.
The magic of this chwee kueh lies in the chye poh. Once you’ve had chye poh like this and enjoyed it as much as I always enjoy it, it genuinely puzzles me how you could love another sort. This chye poh is the savoury sort, always runny with a little oil, always with a few rough bits to add a little accidental juxtaposition to the texture in your mouth. This is quite unlike the sweet and dry chye poh in a rum-​brown colour that you see in so many stalls around — too consistent a texture, and too likely a sweetness. My only qualm might be that there is often not enough chye poh per square centimetre on my chwee kueh, but if you will give the auntie a nice smile and ask politely, she will certainly oblige in giving you a spoonful or two more from her bubbling cauldron.
At about 30 cents per piece you’re for such a treat — such a treat! Thinking about it now even makes me want to weep, and I have just had 6 pieces myself this morning! It makes me even more delighted to give business to such nice people (not that they need it — there’s often a line, but never long enough to turn you off). The auntie is a joy to make conversation with, and even though she’s been told how many years into my studies I am on more than one occasion now, she still always forgets and asks again in the most endearing way. I’ll miss this for sure if it ever goes away — it is my last bastion of chwee kueh hope in Singapore!