Tiong Bahru heritage neighbourhood gets new hipster eatery Magpie
Helmed by a New Zealand chef, the restaurant serves a mishmash of flavours and hefty portions
NEW RESTAURANT
Magpie 57 Eng Hoon Street #01-88 Singapore 160057 Open from Wed to Sun. Dinner only on Wed & Thurs: 5:30 pm to 9:30pm. Lunch and dinner Fri & Sat: 12 pm to 2:30 pm; 5:30 pm to 9:30 pm. Lunch only on Sun: 12 pm to 3:30 pm Reservations: sevenrooms.com/reservations/magpie
[SINGAPORE] Tiong Bahru. What happened to you? You hear about neighbourhoods going to the dogs. What we didn’t expect was a fluffy golden retriever waiting to get into a restaurant wearing a pair of colourful legwarmers.
Dress codes for pets notwithstanding, the gentrification of this heritage enclave is inevitable. Provision shops and kopitiams have made way for more stylish tenants such as its latest entrant Magpie, serving what it calls “borderless” cooking. We take that to mean the food doesn’t resemble any cuisine closely enough to offend any particular ethnicity.
Magpie is a restaurant that appeals to the very crowd that has shaped Tiong Bahru into what it is today. Namely, those who buy into the manufactured “conservation is cool” lifestyle and who see the wet market as an excursion for their foreign guests, rather than the pork seller their mother bought soft bones from for decades.
With a New Zealand chef at its helm, Magpie exudes laidback Antipodean cafe charm where the servers are friendly and the food comes with “portions are big” warnings. The space is tastefully done with mosaic floor, colonial-style wood and wicker features and – surprise – a very nice spacious bathroom. Not so the dining area though, where personal space is sacrificed in the name of “neighbourliness”. And it seems to be a hit, judging by the packed tables and harried staff, which also means erratic service.
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We’re usually wary of chefs who say they cook what they like, inspired by their travels and cultures of wherever they pass through. There’s a free-wheeling, indisciplined air to it, a self-given free pass to copy without having to understand or explain why.
Magpie is deliberately structureless and unapologetic about it, touting its food as “aggressively delicious” but we find it messy and in-your-face. There are some novel flavours, but mostly it’s an unrelenting barrage of ideas duking it out on your plate – the culinary equivalent of a movie where everybody dies at the end and it all feels pointless.
For this reason, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what you’re eating. It leans Mediterranean and Middle Eastern, with Indian, Chinese, Thai, African and Mexican accents thrown in depending on whim and market availability. There’s an almost laddish approach to the cooking – heavy and rough, with lots of salt and acidity. Nuance and subtlety are not in this vocabulary.
A promising-sounding fried ’nduja mochi (S$12) turns out to be a single fried sesame ball that looks straight out of a dim sum restaurant. Until you cut it open and find its mungbean insides eviscerated, replaced with a smoky, spicy pork ’nduja mixture. It’s a jarring match with the chewy glutinous rice ball, but we’re intrigued by the creamy aioli dip on the side spiked with pickled chilli.
Tandoor bread (S$12) is already a signature carb even if it wavers between crispy naan and oversized toasted pita, slathered with savoury homemade whipped butter. It lacks the resilient bite that would make it irresistible. But this slightly aloof oversized flatbread is good for scooping up creamy taramasalata (S$23) – a well-balanced cod roe spread completely hidden under a jungle of crunchy toasted buckwheat, sesame seeds, pink radish slices and charred shishito peppers.
Hefty mains are perfect if you’re fuelling up for some hardcore manual labour after. Otherwise, it’s meant for sharing. Three to four people can probably tackle the massive lamb T-bone (S$58) – a visual onslaught of chunky dry meat piled on top of yoghurt, spiced oil streaked with pomegranate molasses, soft roasted eggplant and the same charred green peppers from before.
Australian octopus (S$58) has more bite than the usual limp versions we’re used to, and it sits in a bath of Indian spiced yellow curry that promptly overflows onto the table because the platter isn’t big enough to hold a large wedge of flatbread, hunks of sweet roasted pumpkin and the downpour of crunchy fried potato curls on top. Prepare to hunker down and get dirty.
Some reprieve comes from sticky toffee pudding (S$18) that’s a happy mix of overly sweet but soothing hot fudgy brownie-like cake in salted caramel sauce, topped with ice cream. You can almost imagine living here, popping by for a sweet after-dinner treat and maybe even contemplating conversation with a fellow diner as you try your hand at neighbourly relations.
Ok, pipe dream. But however you feel about the food, Magpie shows good intentions and a sincere desire to be part of the neighbourhood. Will we come back? Sure, just hang on while we try to persuade our mutt to put on a bandana.
Rating: 6
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