When someone at a table brings up Australia, one can often stereotypically imagine sepia-tinted views of the scorched barren panorama, surfers riding the high tides in slow-motion, the kangaroo mafia clad in boxing gloves and palm-sized tarantulas at every corner. In the secluded chambers of my skull where genius meets insanity, I’m just thinking of Coffin Bay oysters, John Dory by the ocean and Margot Robbie.
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And then there is Oporto, hailing from Bondi Beach, Sydney as a Portuguese flame grilled chicken chain. In my heart of hearts, I have always been one for franchised poultry restaurants as comfort food for the guilty soul. So when I first discovered the outlet bustling at the epicentre of the village, I had to try it.
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The classic African-Portuguese chicken can be characterised by its piquant flavours, commonly achieved by marinating the chicken with piri-piri (Swahilian for ‘pepper’) chilis and other spices. Oporto offers their signature Portuguese Flame Grilled Chicken ($6.90/$11.90/$21.90) with a brush-basting finish of either Chilli or Lemon & Herb Sauce. Maybe my expectations of an off-the-grill chicken drumstick that glistened in its own juices were driven higher by a growing appetite, but the swift anti-climax of a dry, under-seasoned chicken left me surprised to say the least. The kick of the piri-piri chilis was apparent on the surface. However beyond the first discernible layer of flesh on the bone, it was seemingly missing from the equation.
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Their famous Bondi Burger ($5.90/$7.90/$9.90) came with a thin and rather dry chicken fillet, with an additional $2 for a supplementary fillet. For an established chain restaurant that prides itself on its chicken and its Bondi Burger, evidence points to the contrary when it comes to succulent and flavourful poultry. For a burger that claims to be legendary in nature, it presents itself as a lack thereof.

Ah, cakes. Ever since I was a bovine, juvenile synthesis of a mortal known as a child, I’ve always had a sweet tooth and enjoyed tearing at the purity of my cavities with the innocent likes of chocolates, candies and other devilish confectionaries. The end result was a series of fortnightly trips to the dentist over the course of two years in my youth. Now, only perfection remains as the very teeth that I possessed to destroy have become polished tools of mastication that glisten with glorious lustre. As to whether I remain to write on psychedelics synthetic and organic, the answer still remains a mystery to my being. Now where was I? Oh yes, cakes.
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Situated in a lovely little concrete neighbourhood at Telok Blangah, Out Of The Cake Box is a quaint little bakery that prides itself on its unique desserts that interprets local flavours, with pleasantly surprising results. The destination is a simple stone’s throw away from the station, making it the perfect pit-stop to indulge in some delightfully playful creations that remind us of a time that was.
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Their Carrot Cake ($6.50++) is a perfect example of their efforts to incorporate traditional Singaporean flavours with classic dessert-making techniques. Every bite of the curious creation featured a spiced moist carrot sponge layered with hazelnuts and salted caramel cream cheese frosting, resulting in a sweet and savoury spoonful that is reminiscent of a traditional carrot cake serving. -
Next up was the Rose Lychee ($5.50++), a light and effervescent cake with an ethereal texture that played beautifully well with its subtle floral qualities. With rosewater sponge, fresh lychee cream, juicy lychee bits and strawberry jelly, this cake hit all the right spots for dessert on a warm summer afternoon.
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The Millionaire Tart ($6++) was aptly named, for it was rich. Pure decadence arrived in the form of a slow-baked chocolate custard made from a blend of Belgium chocolate and dark chocolate on short crust pastry, with a savoury counterbalance lent by a topping of sea-salt caramel.

Some might say that I am truly unreliable in pushing out content within a specified deadline. Others might worship my infidelity with time as a social construct and awe in admiration as I continue to revel in this dolce far niente while fulfilling my destiny to inform the masses about restaurants. In the words of Rupi Kaur, “To hate Is an easy lazy thing But to love Takes strength”. If poetry can be generalised as art and art as a matter of perspective, I’d safely say that in my glorious eyes my detestation of existence stems from my wilful laziness. In other words, it also meant that Kaur was wrong, for no effort is required to say that I loved and remain to love the food served at Yassin Kampung.
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Walking around the corner of their Clementi Street outlet immediately brought up images deep within the confines of my juvenile memories, flashbacks of ferrying to the rural landscapes of my grandfather’s kampung while running my palm through the tides. The soft lighting and woven seats were subtle touches that proved essential in creating a wonderfully rustic and charming setting for the meal that followed.
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Yassim Kampung offers diners with sets that include some of their signature dishes, dishes that struck a chord within the homely soul. The afternoon was blessed with an order of their Set B ($68++), which included a beautifully crispy 3 Flavoured Fish, a bold and robust Tom Yam Soup, Kang Kong Belacan, Onion Omelette and Butter Milk with Salted Egg Yolk Chicken. Tom Yam has always been a big part of my life, descending as a bloke from the neighbouring country of its origin, so it is with a sharp tongue and a satisfied palette that I say that this is one of the best, if not the best Tom Yam that I’ve had the pleasure of tasting.
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Other dishes from their vast menu included a rather ordinary but delicious serving of Hotplate Black Pepper Beef ($13/$20++) alongside the perennial necessity to have something fried and crunchy, which led us to order their Crispy Oat Sotong ($13/$20++) and Fried Butter Prawn ($18/$28++).
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Perfect place for an authentic taste of the kampung.

In light of the source of my eternal torment, namely the final paper on the devious mechanisms of Business Law, denial has bestowed unto me safe passage in writing to distract myself from the now. The only true shred of knowledge that I can confidently proclaim would be that it is illegal to commit a crime.
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May it please the court, my name is @thintbites and I am counsel for all things culinary in nature. The defendant, W39 Bistro & Bakery has, in retrospect, engaged in criminal behaviour that is unlawful in the eyes of the common law: serving disappointing food. It was an implied term that the dishes that the plaintiffs had ordered was going to be parts of a delectable whole. In accordance with Section 14.2A in the Sales of Goods Act which states that the “goods are of satisfactory quality if they meet the standard that a reasonable person would regard as satisfactory, taking account of any description of the goods, the price (if relevant) and all the other relevant circumstances”, the defendant had failed to deliver as promised, serving up dishes that were imbalanced in flavours, minimal in portion and lacking in any redeeming factors whatsoever.
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The Chef’s Special Assam Seabass and Fragrant Rice ($22) was unfortunately, anything but special. The assam gravy was simply too heavy and imbalanced, and for its price, was not of satisfactory quality. The Chicken Roulade ($22) had a glimmer of hope; in that it was a good attempt at a correct concept, but lacked the refinement and balance of a good dish. It was a roller coaster of flavours, but rather the kind of roller coaster that makes you dizzy and nauseous, leaving you lying on the cold hard ground. The only promising dish of the night was the Pork Cheek Quesadilla ($20), with meltingly tender pulled pork cheek in tortilla wraps. The Starter Platter ($32) will allow one to select from any four of their unimaginative starters, and ironically had to be the least value-for-money in terms of the anticipated quality of it all with bland fries, run-of-the-mill mozzarella sticks and sautéed mushrooms that were simply a tired attempt at a country classic.
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With that, I rest my case. Thank you your honour.

The hiatus was long, marked by an unquestionable languor and accompanied by the likes of Zendaya in Euphoria and the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high-school football. The venerable kid draws out his phone for the umpteenth time, harbouring intentions to channel his literary prowess into praising more meals he’s had over his lifetime. Alas, the motivation to do so settles like dust on a piano, marking the continuation of an endless cycle of inaction.
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On this day however, the kid faced an epiphany ever so bright, gleaming with inspiration that one could only dream of. He realised that the pretentiousness and dubiousness that came with praising cuisine was unfounded, unlike criticising it. He whips out his phone, continuing to ignore conventions and writing in a format that was analogous to that of a 16-year old’s One Direction smut fanfic on Wattpad. Words were coming together, letters falling into place.
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Something was missing, this text was slowly morphing into a babble of the highest degree. In an abrupt turnaround, he realises that he wasn’t here for praise. He was ready to speak ill of a dining experience that had watered down what could’ve been a remarkable evening. He opened up every resource he required to serve his judgement in front of him, ready to further the prattle that was already beginning to get tedious to type. “Ah Keisuke, you’re getting old”, he thought, recalling the hour-long queue into Ramen Keisuke Lobster King that delivered their hallmark Lobster Broth Ramen Special (All Toppings) ($20.90++) with an anti-climatic potpourri of ingredients and an indescribable flaw with the noodles that did not play well with the broth it swam in. Racking his brain for words and adjectives that could further emphasise on his mild disappointment with the ramen that he had, a flicker of light came on. He knew just what to write, three simple words to consolidate judgement, information and showmanship in his final paragraph.
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This place sucks.

Walk in and you will find yourself completely immersed in a pastel paradise akin to that of a pristine dollhouse. With marble countertops and spheres of soft white light, one may escape from the hustle and bustle of the Tanjong Pagar CBD district, and seek solace in the charming little dessert boutique that is Nesuto (Japanese for “nest”). The humble patisserie, which is the brainchild of Plentyfull’s ex-head pastry chef Alicia is home to a sublime collection of expertly-crafted cakes and pastries, in which no effort was spared in their creation. Fresh, premium imported ingredients are utilised to their fullest potential with classical and contemporary French cooking techniques.
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Nesuto’s cakes are a reflection of innovation and sophistication that excite, where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Le Chocolat ($9) is an example of such, a rich and decadent Valrhona dark chocolate mousse, resting atop a crumbly brownie base before finally being finished with a few shards of pure chocolate. Miss Ispahan ($9.80) was beautifully presented, a lone lychee rose rested atop a blissfully creamy dome of a layered raspberry jam core and a smooth rose and lychee cream exterior.
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A second visit was obligatory. On the day of our visit, we were presented with a new cake that appeared to be in its R&D phase. The Orelys Cassis ($8.60) featured a mirrored presentation to its darker cousin, Le Chocolat, with a completely different set of ingredients. The dessert crafted at Nesuto made full use of the Orelys’ discerning qualities and paired it alongside a blueberry cassis confit core atop a brownie base.
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As for my personal favourite in the house of the Nest, the clear winner stands to be their C3 Cheesecake ($9). Smooth, nutty and well-rounded, the cheesecake boasts recognizable flavours of Valrhona caramelized white chocolate and dark chocolate infused within the simply rich cheesecake. Sea salt adds a new dimension to the cake, bringing about a savouriness that truly complimented the sweetness and the richness, creating a perfectly balanced cake in its entirety. Wonderful place that does not fail to please.

Home is where the heart is. If that statement were to be taken literally with a mild hint of a non-existent comedic rhetoric, I would be the proud owner of over a hundred different properties on the island. Over the course of four years, a list of prominence has been established in the Brobdingnagian brain of mine for the one place to be for any and all kinds of food. Ramen? Just head down to [redacted] for some soulful soups and noods. Craving dim sum? My incorporeal form recommends [redacted] for their hearty xiaolongbao spread. Hopefully, from the moment you laid eyes on the photograph heading this very long chunk of words that entail, you may intelligently assume that we’re going to be talking about the one place for burgers.
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The place in mind is a home away from home, a dim and dusky retreat with an iconic no-bullshit attitude and boldness that is apparent in their burgers. With classic kickass burgers like The Yolo ($18.50++) which features gloriously greasy layers of Spam, fried egg, fried onion strings, fried mozzarella cheese sticks nestled between an innocent sesame seed bun, the Fat Boys legion does the basics well and they do it right. Straying from the norm is The Elvis ($11.50++), a burger that defies purity with its juicy bacon-stuffed pork patty topped with grilled bananas and slathered with peanut butter. Unorthodox, but with all things coming out of the kitchen under their roof, delicious.
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My personal favourite throughout the years remains to be a staple of what I believe to be a burger of the utmost perfect proportions. Their Shroom Melt ($13.80++) features a thick and juicy beef chuck patty that is then topped with sautéed shiitake mushrooms, melted Swiss cheese, and garlic aioli on a wine-hued chia seed wholemeal bun. In addition to the sheer melt-in-your-mouth goodness that the buttery bundle of joy exudes, a personal touch of truffle mayonnaise and beef chilli cheese fries make for a complete and perfect mid-week cheat meal. Great place for great food and a great life thereafter.

I have to get this out of the way before a table gets tossed over my head: I’m an old-fashioned kinda guy. Aside from the certain fact that I prefer my ducks to be pan-fried rather than sticking them in food condoms before placing them in a water bath, I like cash. I praise the beauty of physical currency, finding joy in rubbing two notes together like Rob Schneider hinting for a tip in Home Alone 2. Of course, none of this information would be pertinent if not for an article detailing my experiences at a larger-than-life bunker-esque food paradise that half the Singaporean population may be familiar with: habitat by honestbee.
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This is the epitome of smart-living. From your first step into the converted warehouse space to your premature exodus, everything is assisted, motivated and carried out with your mobile phones. As a person who is stuck in time trying to maintain a heritage whilst simultaneously innovating and completely fucking over the same idea in deliberate contradiction, I have never been fond of utilising mobile phones for anything other than aimless social media crawls and sprawls. And also for writing an endless stream of paragraphs pertaining to food whilst trying unravel the very notion of pretentiousness at its core. That being said, habitat by honestbee requires a smartphone, an Internet connection and half a monkey’s sanity to traverse in one piece.
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If there’s one thing everyone comes here for, it’s the Poofy Pancakes ($14) by Riz Labo. This ethereal creation features three Japanese soufflé pancakes that are ever so fluffy and almost wobbly to the touch. A dough jelly, if you will. Paired with a ridiculously light and supple topping of vanilla Chantilly cream, the plate was cleared in less than 5 minutes after an almost 2-hour long wait.
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We also tried the Char Siew Rice ($8) by Char, which was a very traditional serving of char siew Brazilian pork belly, bok choy, ajitama and Jasmine white rice. This was followed by a lovely Snapper Fish and Chips ($14.90) from Captain Snapper, which featured a lovely crisp portion of beer-battered snapper and some sriracha mayonnaise to go along with the quintessential chips.

A steak is a steak is a steak. Nothing compares to the universal litmus test of a fantastic grill like a perfectly cooked steak. Juicy on the inside, beautifully pink in the center with an irresistible char from that which we know as the Maillard reaction. Of course, when we choose to step out of our homes rather than grabbing a 250g slab of ribeye at the butcher, we end up spending more than we want to, and rightfully more than we should.
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As with all things Singaporean, cheap is always good. At iSteaks (not another overpriced one-dimensional Apple product), one can expect to find a small and simple selection of steak cuts done right, paired nicely with a decent price tag. On the topic of pairings, iSteaks boasts a number of fine compliments to go along with your carnivorous desires. From steakhouse classics such as Country Baked Beans and Onion Rings to humble creations such as their Cinnamon Pumpkin.
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After eating at iSteaks ever since they were reeling in elongated 6pm queues every night in the heart of Holland Village, my all-time favourite order is a plate well decorated with a beautifully grilled NZ Striploin ($18/200g, $21/250g), alongside a warm buttery Baked Potato and a delectable serving of Macaroni & Cheese. Of course, one can opt for Steak House cuts of 350g and 450g, if you’re feeling a little beefy whenever.
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When we’re talking groups of four or more, look no further than their AU Wagyu D-Rump ($115/1.2kg), a luscious Australian Wagyu top sirloin steak with a marbling score of 4/5 (ms4/5) that can be easily shares amongst 4 hungry carnivores.

Chinese food and I have always had a long and complicated relationship. My innate distaste and consequential aversion of the ancient dining cultures of steamboat and even those whole fishes that are served with the bone-in are somehow equally matched up against the wonders and the discipline in Chinese cooking. It’s a love-hate relationship on a 9:1 scale. Fortunately, I am also a sucker for any food that seems to be out-of-place with innovative pairings, great ambience and a sizeable goblet of G&T for the evening.
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Full of Luck Restaurant is nestled in the frontline of sweet home Holland Village, serving signature classic Cantonese cuisine in a setting that boasts luxury yet remaining casual enough for a Friday night catchup. If you happen to know me personally and have seen me pulling hairs out of what is left of my head, you would understand the level of excitement and stress that comes with browsing through an extensive menu where everything just looks delectable with a wallet that isn’t so...delectable. Fortunately, most of the dishes here stay true to its Cantonese roots, and sharing comes as an ease.
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An item I had previously eyed on the menu was rather lacklustre, despite all the previous rave surrounding it. The Crabmeat Truffle Fried Rice with Egg White ($15++) sounded like a treat on their matted, medium-weight and black marble textured menu with gold embossing on its letterings. However, the flavours of the star components that were the truffle and the crabmeat failed to shine as bright as they should. Their Full of Luck Special Fried Rice ($14++) proved otherwise. The signature wok hei, a resilient mark of the classic stir-fry lived in every bite of the rice.
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The Crispy Hakka Kurobuta Pork ($16++) was a simple dish of fried heritage Berkshire pork served with some cucumber sticks and a dollop of mustard dressing. The compotation of their beverage program may seemingly bring you to the back alley of the restaurant, where a curious red lantern swings in the windless passage. We had their Bombay Sapphire and Ki No Bi cocktails, while the youngest of the pack went for a warm and well-flavoured Mandarin Pu-Er Tea.

With everything ranging from writing to reading to exercising to even perhaps the mighty act of waking up becoming a chore as of late, there is no doubt that even the narcissistic demi-god of unparalleled genius in the art of food reviews (@thintbites) requires a kick to bring his dismantled soul together as one again. The aforementioned kick can be labelled simply as food, or rather the prospect of novelty in the food culture of this island. Enter Paulaner Bräuhaus, a namesake restaurant boasting a spacious interior that was indeed reminiscent of a grand tavern in the heart of the land of automobiles.
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Hailing as Singapore’s only German microbrewery and restaurant, Paulaner Bräuhaus was a first for me. Indeed, the Bavarian hospitality that was promised came through in their food and atmosphere. The table started with some finger food of sorts through their Paulaner Trio “Light” ($13.90++), with lightly pungent sticks of Emmental cheese, a Bavarian cheese spread (“Obazda”) and another herbaceous cream cheese spread.
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It is worth noting that their mains are substantial, and I mean REALLY filling. As such, our group simply ordered two main dishes which I’m proud to say sated our hunger rather well. Their Roasted Whole Pork Knuckle ($31.90++) was a chunk of pure carnivorous desire with a crackling exterior and tender pull-apart meat that turned every forkful into pure greasy bliss. We also went for their Original Veal Schnitzel ($29.90++), a thin veal escalope served with sautéed baby potatoes and a wonderfully complimentary cranberry dip that proved well for the entire meal.
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If you’re looking for a place with hearty, rich and bold German cuisine in the concrete jungle surrounding the Fountain of Wealth, look no further than Paulaner Bräuhaus. On a totally different note, this picture further exemplifies the point that Samsung cameras are arguably better at taking pictures of food than Apple.

Mention the prospect of dining at a Spanish establishment to me and my mind would shrill with excitement as I begin to picture the myriad of tapas to be ordered. It is safe to say that with a penchant for the Spaniards and their culture, I am intrinsically drawn to the vivacious serenades, the alluring lingo and of course, the sheer vibrancy of their food.
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Of all the restaurants that I have been to, Tapas Club will remain as one of my fondest dining memories, with a dim but enchanting setting that further pampers you with its amazing food, incredible customer service and of course, complimentary olives. The twelfth day of the twelfth month may very well mark the first time that I fell in love with not only this place, but also one special someone whom I had the fullest joy of bringing along.
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Mawkishly sappy recounts aside, a return to this place was inevitable. Previously, I had the pleasure of trying one of their paellas for the very first time, and true enough, it is arguably the best paella at its price point. The Paella de Cerdo Ibérico ($26++) came served with strips of the Ibérico pork and lardo, boasting a robust and all too homely taste of the countryside. A simple tapas of Tartar de Salmón ($13.90++) gave a refreshing switch-up away from the generally savoury dishes served at Tapas Club, with diced salmon, julienned chillies, onions and a wonderfully bright marinade.
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The second visit gave way to the discovery of a must-order dish if you happen to be a fan of mushrooms, spice and all things earthy and nice. I have one word for the Cazuela de Setas Al Ajillo ($10.90++): a-series-of-contrasting-subtleties-that-result-in-a-definitive-flavour-explosion-occurring-on-multiple-levels. You have to try this dish. Then came the paella, the Arroz Negro ($26++) was a toothsome favourite of the table with every grain of the imported Spanish Arroz Redonda short-grain rice coated in squid ink, topped with cuttlefish, clams and dressed with aioli. Their Torreznos con Trinxat ($12.90++) had a indescribable downgrade factor from the first time I tried it, which leads to me to believe consistency may be a factor in some cases. Definitely worth a visit if you love red and yellow for Spain and evermore.