
Hong Mao Mian Jia
I was having lunch with my professor at the cafeteria a few months back. He asked, "Where do you stay?" Having satisfied himself that I was a fellow dweller in the East, he continued, "There is a very good wanton noodle stall in the east. Best fried wantons in Singapore. But don't go during the weekend because you'll have to wait for at least an hour. And you'll see all the regulars equipped with their books, newspapers and ipads." There was a pause. I played the role of an inquisitive student and egged him on. He went on, "The lady boss knows me because I go there so often. Last Chinese New Year, we made a bulk order of their wantons and fried them at home for reunion dinner. They were so well received, they never made it to the dinner table." My interest was piqued. I began cajoling him to give the name of this legendary noodle stall away. He deliberated slowly, "I don't like telling people the name of the stall because I don't want it to get any more popular than it already is." But his face softened. "Ang Moh wanton noodles," he finally revealed, "Try their fried wantons."
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