Pasta worship at Forma

NEW RESTAURANT

Forma 128 Tembeling Road Singapore 423638. Tel: 6513-2286 Open for dinner only Tues to Sat: 6pm to 10.30pm

WE’VE just been to a new church in Joo Chiat. We joined worshippers who come from near and far, hungry for the gospel of Ben Fatto, delivered by an enigmatic preacher from his glass-encased chapel. Of course, we made the mistake of thinking we had come to an Italian restaurant. But from the frenzy whipped up by his followers, it’s as if we’re witnessing the Second Coming of Ravioli. And that’s not just pasta we’re eating - it’s religion in tomato sauce.

We’re not sure where artisanal craft ends and feverish hype begins, but that’s the case at Forma, where one person’s dedication to making fresh pasta is overshadowed by a massive Fomo contest just to get a booking at the restaurant.

It’s. Pasta. It’s good pasta, no question. Credit goes where credit is due, in this case Lee Yum Hwa, who found his calling by rolling, pinching and cutting dough in a way that would make Italian nonnas beat their own grandchildren on the head for not following in her footsteps. 

We’ve never been to the original Ben Fatto, although we can imagine the appeal of small batch pasta-making in an intimate setting hosted by Lee himself, who cooks everything from start to end. 

Now he makes pasta at Forma - in collaboration with the Cicheti folks - and the parameters have changed. The challenge instead is how to deal with this curious oxymoron called artisanal commercialisation. Will he be able to retain that folksy handmade essence in the face of growing demand for quantity? Will that impact the variety of twirly shapes he can do, in favour of easier roll-and-cut/extruded but still technically handmade noodles?

So far it’s still early to tell, but we wonder if that has anything to do with our server taking pains to emphasise that “we’re not just about pasta but a full Italian restaurant”.

Even without the pasta, Forma acquits itself well on the cooking front. After all, it’s part of the Cicheti stable so they’re no slouches when it comes to pizza and pasta - handmade too, according to its website. 

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The Tembeling Road’s main attraction is its all-glass facade where Lee works - or potters around when not - in full view. Whether you actually see him in action is like waiting for Le Le to take a tumble through the bamboo. There’s no show when we go, so we can only squeeze into our tight little table in this localised interpretation of an Italian trattoria.

The menu is fairly compact, with more starters than pastas and mains. Polpette di Baccala (S$21) are ping pong balls of salted cod and mashed potatoes, meaty and deep fried to a light crispness. A bit of overzealous soaking has leached all flavour from the salt cod, so you really need the chilli-spiked aioli to compensate. 

Deep-fried zucchini flowers (S$26) are a treat -  crunchy battered blossoms which need a thicker coating to keep their shape but not a deal breaker since the shatter of crust gives way to an oozy, creamy stracciatella filling. The stems are firm and crisp, with fresh zucchini sweetness.

If you’re up for a history lesson on pasta, there are longish descriptions in the menu for the different types being served. If you’re not, you’ll be looking at the prices and comparing them with the portion of pasta on your plate which you’re told is “just enough for one” so you can order more to try. But before you gripe, handmade pasta has no recommended retail price.

So we don’t really begrudge them the S$34 bowl of tortellini in brodo or clear chicken broth, simply because we can’t imagine how someone can diligently knead so many teeny parcels of pork and parmigiano without getting a nervous breakdown. We like the unrefined simplicity of the broth - which may not be as full-bodied as Chinese food-oriented palates may prefer - but it’s a good canvas for the little morsels of fine-textured dough wrapped around pellets of cheese-accented minced pork.

But the Pappardelle e Coda alla Vaccinara (S$36) is the prize for Italian cucina-approved tomato-oxtail ragu that clings like a persistent scammer to the wide, satisfyingly chewy noodles that have just the right thickness and bite.

Before the pasta story starts to get monotonous, check out the Busiate (S$28) - curly strands of dough dressed in a tomato-based pesto with nutty accents of crushed almonds and savouriness of pecorino cheese.

They’re out of pork on our visit so we go with the pan-seared blue cod (S$42) that’s perfectly dependable with a crisp skin and meaty fillet in a beurre blanc studded with onions, peas and bacon for an extra salty kick.

Sweeten off with also-reliable cannoli (S$16) - a pair of fried pastry cigars stuffed with light stracciatella gelato and capped with pistachio and candied peel on each end.

There’s little authentic Italian charm at Forma, which functions as a conventional restaurant, with any insights into the cuisine relegated to study notes rather than the passion of a self-taught artisan - which is fine with us. Don’t read too much into the pasta or agonise about not being able to post your experience on Instagram. There’s less to-die-for food in Singapore than social media will have you believe. Forma is worth a trip, but only for the right reason.

Rating: 7

WHAT OUR RATINGS MEAN

10: The ultimate dining experience  9-9.5: Sublime  8-8.5: Excellent  7-7.5: Good to very good  6-6.5: Promising  5-5.5: Average

Our review policy: The Business Times pays for all meals at restaurants reviewed on this page. Unless specified, the writer does not accept hosted meals prior to the review’s publication.