Steamboat gets new meaning at Chinese hotpot eatery Chamoon

NEW RESTAURANT

Chamoon Hot Pot #03-01/02 Scotts Square 6 Scotts Road Singapore 228209 Tel: 6258-5232 Open daily for lunch and dinner: 11 am to 2 pm; 5 pm to 10 pm

WELCOME to China. Go to Scotts Square, up to the third floor, hang a left and say hi to the pandas at the doorway. From the Mandarin-speaking hostess to the titter of Chinese accents in the dining area and the unusually (by local standards) helpful and friendly staff, it’s clear you’re not in Singapore anymore.

That in itself brings its own share of stress, as a newbie’s visit to Chamoon Hot Pot soon reveals. For one, it’s the iPad menu they bring you, which is as long as a 32-episode Chinese serial. After swiping past a few pages, you’ve already lost the plot and succumbed to a random steamboat set picked in a panic.

Forgive us for not having been to Haidilao, and for thinking Beauty in the Pot is a scam aesthetics clinic pushing overpriced slimming packages. Chamoon is a bit of a culture shock but once you settle into the rhythm, it turns out to be a fun ride.

The price of admission is not cheap, because the Sichuan-based Chamoon’s Singapore flagship is eyeing the premium market with its upscale surroundings and penchant for dramatic dry ice effects.

Even so, check the set menu prices carefully, because they can be misleading. When it says S$149 for a marbled beef platter set for two people, don’t use your Coca steamboat calculator and assume that it’s a meal for two. It’s S$149 per head, so that’s a cool S$298.

Alternatively, you can go the a la carte route, but prices can add up faster than you think. It’s probably safer to start with a set (there’s a cheaper one at S$98) and add on later. Ignore the confusing discounted prices in the menu too. They only apply if you sign up for the membership scheme. Commitment-phobes, be prepared to pay full price.  However you see it, S$149 per head is expensive. But once your table is filled to the brim with everything from A4 wagyu to kurobuta pork and squirming live abalones trying desperately to flee their shells to the nearest pick-up point, it starts to make sense. Almost.

Chamoon prides itself on single-portion hotpots, so there’s no risk of overzealous fellow diners double-dipping or eating with the same chopsticks they used to cook their sausages. 

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You get your own induction point, and a decorative cloisonne-like base for your pot of soup. Pick from a range of flavoured broths from the house signature matsutake (more like a clear morel mushroom broth with a touch of Chinese herbs) to spicy mala and a beauty-promoting brew of tomato and papaya.

The latter makes a stronger first impression with its tangy-sweet broth, but the novelty runs out soon enough when everything you dunk in takes on a tomato hue. The matsutake version is mild (and tastes almost artificially truffle-ish) but it has longer legs, picking up the flavours of the meat and seafood as you progress. There are also two dips to help you along – a garlicky soy sauce and a chunky spicy chilli and mushroom relish that’s rather addictive.

The impeccable service kicks in when you get precise instructions on how long to cook each item, with an hourglass on hand for extra help. Doughy-skinned dumplings reveal juicy meat stuffing after 15 minutes, while frozen scallops – in exchange for the salmon sashimi we don’t want – turn into not-so-good bouncy fishballs after the required time.

We’re also introduced to mushrooms we’ve never met before – cauliflower fungus that looks like snow fungus and some curly-edged specimens that look like fake sliced fish cake and taste like gluten. Probably something lost in translation. 

The seafood and meat aren’t to be sniffed at, though. Especially when they appear in elaborate presentations spewing fumes of dry ice smoke. The tiger prawns and abalones are taken away and returned neatly shelled and sliced. Pop them into the soup and the prawns emerge sweet and crunchy, while the abalones are tender and just slightly chewy if you get the timing right. Both the wafer-thin slices of marbled beef and pork also retain their juiciness after a quick swish.

For a carbo-ending, a small claypot of fried truffle rice hits the spot after all that protein. Dessert is simple – some fruit and yoghurt topped with a panda jelly candy that looks cute but tastes rather atrocious.

In true Chinese fashion, you’re asked to give the restaurant a favourable online review in exchange for a bottle of rose petal tea or the homemade chilli relish that we like. We were tempted, but even when we declined, the server still gave us two bottles of relish as a very sweet gesture. Service? They’re hard to beat. Food-wise it’s just adequate, but for the overall experience, we might just give them their Google thumbs up after all.

Rating: 6.5