Subtle Chinese cooking at Wenzhou Mansion

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Wenzhou Mansion 60/62/64 Tanjong Pagar Road Singapore 088841 Tel: 6592 1668 Open daily for lunch and dinner: 11.30 am to 2.30 pm; 5.30 pm to 10 pm

HERE we are, on our de facto quest to discover the wonders of regional Chinese cuisine – without actually stepping into any of those regions.

Our latest stop is Wenzhou, via the Tanjong Pagar “mansion” that bears its name. And our conclusion is this: either we ordered all the wrong things, or the people of Wenzhou in Zhejiang province have such enhanced taste buds that they detect flavours no one else can.

These are people who’ve gone through the eight steps of enlightenment and attained culinary nirvana while we were still in the fried chicken queue demanding extra hot sauce for our wings.

Forget the sixth taste of umami. They’ve reached the level of ancient sages, spouting Yoda-isms like, “Taste does not have to be there, to be there.” Subtlety to them is not a taste profile. It’s a lifestyle choice.

By that token, Wenzhou Mansion delivers authenticity you can appreciate, if not exactly relish with gusto. Out of the eight great Chinese cuisines, Zhejiang is one of the mildest, even more so than Cantonese. It’s very much seafood-based, and the seasoning leans on nature, soy sauce and some imagination on our part.

This self-styled upscale outpost is pretty big, if unceremoniously wedged between the street’s prolific Korean BBQ joints and the occasional casual izakaya. 

Dark interiors fight to maintain anonymity under bright spotlights, while a translucent screen along one wall gives you a vague outline of the kitchen and the chefs’ activity within. Meanwhile, tanks of live seafood scream “expensive” in a passive-aggressive way. 

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A meal here won’t be cheap if you’re eyeing the signatures. Think S$128 for raw marinated crab, S$158 for yellow croaker, S$188 for glutinous rice with roe-filled crab – you get the idea. There are friendlier options averaging S$58 upwards, and a few decent ones under.

Pre-meal snacks are always a treat. Here, we’re sad that they don’t offer us a refill of tangy soy sauce peanuts, sweet preserved arbutus and pickled cauliflower stems.

They’re a great pick-me-up for the palate before the real food comes. Wenzhou fish cake (S$32) appears like a naked version of our familiar fried version. Pale, with a chunky texture, it has a sticky, bouncy and almost plasticky bite – but in a pleasing way. There’s a fruity soy sauce to dunk it into for contrast.

Fish ball and pork wonton soup (S$35) is impressive for the painstaking work that goes into something so clean and simple. Clear broth reminiscent of old-school kway teow tng, filled with chewy fish morsels that have the cartilage-y bite of beef tendon, and tiny dumplings filled with minced pork. Yes, it’s underseasoned, but a splash of vinegar in the soup gives it a good lift.

Take your chances with the coral grouper soup (S$48) – not for the satisfyingly tangy-milky fish broth with the kick of pickled greens – but the amount of tiny bones in the sliced fish that are a pain to pick out. Make sure you’re not with polite company because some spitting is involved.

If you want marinated crab without the triple-digit price, try the hua diao drunken soft-shell crab (S$38) – half a small specimen rich with creamy roe, infused in a mellow marinade of Chinese wine and soy sauce.

While the staff are pleasant and helpful, the kitchen has no sense of pacing. Main dishes are brought out willy-nilly, with no consideration for the fact that we’re still eating something else. We’ve barely started on the crab and a roasted baby duck when the steamed yellow croaker (S$158) arrives – like an emperor afraid of being upstaged by poultry.

The fish itself is not in peak condition, but decent enough given the flight here – its trademark cushiony softness draped in a familiar soy sauce-scallion oil sauce but with a vinegar tang.

The surprise star is the duck (S$98) – a baby version roasted to a deep golden hue, scented with five spice and maltose, complete with crisp skin and juicy meat. 

We end off with a luxed-up economy fried beehoon (S$15) with all the al dente chewiness we like and a lot of oil that we don’t.

For dessert, Wenzhou Mansion does a fine glutinous rice ball filled with black sesame (S$12) bobbing in a sweet water chestnut soup speckled with corn. It’s an easier sell than durian glutinous rice (S$15) – sweet durian pulp encased in an almost-savoury, sticky rice ball.

Lower your seasoning expectations and go prepared to Wenzhou Mansion. It’s not in-your-face like mala, but expects you to slowly train your senses. You may not attain nirvana, but it’ll open your eyes to a different realm.

Rating: 6.5