Chong Qing express

We should have taken a cue from the price. Starting at $32, the house specialty at Chong Qing Grilled Fish was rather expensive, but we had put that down to the restaurant’s more upscale location (Liang Seah, across Bugis Junction). With additional enoki mushrooms and fried tofu skin, our order came to around $40.

What came out of the kitchen could have easily fed four people, even five. Jenny and I stared wide-eyed at the dish (in a chafing dish!), then at each other, and back to the grilled sea bass swimming in fiery red chili soup (hot pot, actually). To call portions in Singapore generous really means they are meant for sharing (we couldn’t finish our plate of half a Hainanese chicken earlier that day, and it was figuratively chicken compared to this).

Frankly, we should have ordered the snapper, but I was curious about sea bass, which I had never tried before. It reminded me of bangus (milkfish), both in appearance and texture (at least it was not as bony). What really grabs your attention is that red slick accompanying the fish, smelling like it could obliterate your sinuses. And to think we had specified mild (there is a non-spicy version, but where was the fun in that?). The restaurant claims that the dish has more than 20 herbs and spices; of the hotter aromatics I could tell two from their distinctive shapes: chunks of a dried chili of some sort and whole Sichuan peppercorn, the latter not really pepper (it is more closely related to citrus) and yet causes this pleasant tingle in one’s mouth before graduating to momentary numbness. As we worked on the hot pot, we made short work of the box of tissues thoughtfully provided.

We also had their pig’s ears, which should be familiar to most Pinoys (sisig and pork kilawin, anyone?), except dressed in chili sauce. Thinly sliced and topped with crunchy peanuts and toasted sesame seeds, this was easily my favorite dish of the whole trip.

To wash the heat down (it was a sweltering afternoon, to boot), sour plum juice. That’s kiamoy to you and me, elsewhere known as huamei or li hing mui. More brown than red — looks like iced tea, doesn’t it? — but the taste was unmistakable, an interplay of sweet, salty, and sour, with a hint of tang. Overpriced at $4.50, if very well executed; others I’d tried were simply too heavy on sugar. I made a note to look for kiamoy powder in Chinatown the next day.

Our bill ran up to $66 dollars, including tax. We mopped up the pig’s ears, but there really was too much of the grilled fish hot pot. A wonderful meal, plus we had a good laugh towards the end when Jenny swallowed a huge chunk of chili. And just so you know, we spent a lot more for pasalubong. A tip: do not waste your baggage allowance bringing back food items you can just as easily find at SM or Metro. Spend your money on real food instead. Singapore is rightly known for its eclectic mix of immigrant cuisines, which means there is bound to be a Gerry’s Grill somewhere. Do yourself a favor and give it a pass for the nonce.