Singaporean-Indonesian couple elevate bak chor mee and kuih-kuih to new heights at Foliage

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Foliage #01-03 Onze@Tanjong Pagar 11 Kee Seng Road Singapore 089218 Open for dinner only Wed to Sun: 6pm to 11pm.  Reservations: foliage.sg

WE KNOW the saying that East or West, home is best. But for most Singaporeans, it isn’t home unless there’s a bowl of bak chor mee waiting with your name on it. 

Still, minced pork noodles itself is polarising. It divides team mee kia and team mee pok. It conjures vigorous debate over the merits of Tai Wah and the stall near your house. Dillon Ng knows that. He also knows he risks being flamed by S$5-a-bowl cynics for putting bak chor mee on the S$188 mod-Sin menu he serves at Foliage, a tiny semi-fine restaurant he runs with his Indonesian wife Lusiana Hendrika.

But don’t throw shade just yet. S$188 seems pricey at first glance, but you get 10 courses for that, including a palate cleanser and two desserts. You pay as much or more at some private dining kitchens. With its modest set-up of wooden tables and potted plants, Foliage has the look and feel of one, too – except you don’t have to take your shoes off. 

It all boils down to the bak chor mee conundrum – do you begrudge the price of an elevated Singaporean dining experience when you pay more for other cuisines without a second glance? Oh, one positive – there’s no GST here.

Sitting in a ground floor corner unit of a low-key condo in Tanjong Pagar, Foliage oozes unpretentiousness as it delivers a whimsical yet inventive menu that is appealing for its honesty if not slickness. Ng cooks. Hendrika serves and makes desserts. They have one assistant. That’s it. There are no resumes stating who staged at what Michelin-starred restaurant overseas, and no fiddly snacks to show off how many cooking techniques you can fit into two tiny tart shells.

Instead, they both draw on their own food memories – he from his Teochew upbringing and she from her memories of street snacks growing up in Bandung.

Ng starts off with a riff on Teochew steamed fish, a sentimental favourite of his. He cures Japanese red sea bream (madai) sashimi in pickled plum, adds fresh tomatoes and covers the lot in wobbly jellied consomme of fish bone broth. We get the connection but sadly not the taste, which registers a minus on the scale of zing. Even for one usually averse to salt and acid, this misses both.

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But it could be a deliberate move to prime you for a flavour fillip in Ng’s deconstruction of white cut chicken or pak cham kai. Supple, meaty white Japanese squid commits identity theft by mimicking the texture of said fowl, gently tossed in a familiar ginger-green onion sauce with bamboo shoot and tender burdock. It’s a comforting, earthy and unexpected twist that works.

Same with Ng’s take on kerabu anytime, with its happy mix of shredded radish, toasted coconut, Australian swimmer crab and crushed cashew praline that’s sweet, sour, zesty and crunchy all at the same time.

We don’t know what goes through Ng’s head, when he lines up for his muah chee fix, that made him think that hae bee hiam would make a great substitute for ground peanuts. He hand-makes the sticky pulled dough – cooked first in lobster broth – and coats it in a spicy crumble of dry-fried fish and prawn floss. A bit more chew would be nice, but these tender, savoury, pliable nuggets of joy happen because someone thinks outside of his takeaway box.

Next is a Hainanese pork chop that’s been watching too many Tokyo Diner episodes. Ng coats extra marbled Iberico pork with traditional cream crackers, and deep fries it in pure lard like a tonkatsu joint he’s been to. It doesn’t shine, but the meat is juicy and a vinegar-spiked sweet brown sauce gives contrast. 

And now, bak chor mee tng. Rest assured no S$5 hawker in Singapore can do theirs at this level, even if you deign to top up two bucks or more for extra “liao”. The broth is the star, sweet from scallops, soybeans and anchovies. The handmade mee kia is near QQ, and the minced pork is from chopped Iberico trimmings. The scallop slices are a mere distraction, and the fried fish cake is fluffy with mushy tendencies. Stick to the broth and noodles for a luxurious simple pleasure. 

In contrast, lobster laksa is weighed down by a thick daun kesum-infused gravy and claypot style rice cooked in saffron-scented lobster broth with decent bits of crust. Nice in theory, but laksa and sar po fun with a paella detour needs a less complicated route.

Much-needed respite comes from blue ginger sorbet, goji jelly and dekopon orange – the hint of bitterness in the sweet sorbet, fruity jelly and sweet orange segments repelling the greasy build-up.

It’s also better than the everything-coconut-in-a-bowl dessert that highlights a surprisingly un-coconutty ice cream. The crispy wafers styled after love letters are the only things we want to eat. A better success is the cottony kuih sarlat, where the glutinous rice is replaced with floaty blue pea flower-hued chiffon sponge on top of pandan custard. Like the muah chee hae bee hiam, this Hendrika creation is a win for her.

From the complimentary Kanazawa green tea to a glass of wine Hendrika comps because she wants you to try it, dining at Foliage doesn’t feel transactional. If they were Japanese we would call it omotenashi but here, it feels like home, which we haven’t felt in a restaurant in a long time. 

Rating: 7