Kiera Xu
There is something comforting about walking into a familiar food court. You already know where the stalls are, and you do not need to think too much about where to go. You recognize the dishes you usually order, almost without looking at the menu. Sometimes, you may even notice the same faces behind the counters,…
Some meals stay with us for years. Not necessarily because the food was the most impressive. Not because it was from the most famous restaurant or the most talked-about opening. Sometimes, it is simply because of the moment. A family dinner after a long day of shopping. A first date at a restaurant that no…
Sometimes, a restaurant catches your attention before you even see the menu. It might be a quiet corner near a window. A row of tables tucked away from the busiest walkway. A small space where people seem comfortable lingering long after their meals are finished. These places feel different. The food may not have arrived…
The first time I ordered sashimi, I did everything wrong. I was maybe nineteen, sitting at a counter in Singapore with a friend who knew what she was doing, and I panicked. I drowned a slice of salmon in soy sauce, dropped a fat clump of wasabi on top, and swallowed it before I could…
Some restaurants catch our attention because they are new. A new concept opens, a new menu appears, and suddenly everyone wants to be among the first to visit. But there are also restaurants that quietly continue serving diners year after year. They may not always appear in the latest food trends. Their interiors may have…
I didn’t set out to write this. It started as a habit. Somewhere between the shopping errands and the quiet afternoons, I began drifting up the escalators at Takashimaya, looking for a plate of raw fish and a corner to sit in. Over the past two years, I’ve eaten sashimi at nearly every Japanese restaurant…
The first time someone brought me to Cuppage Plaza, I almost walked past it. It sat there off Orchard Road, a little worn at the edges, nothing like the polished malls nearby. My friend just said, “Trust me,” and led me up a quiet stairwell that smelled faintly of grilled fish and soy sauce. Then…
The first time I ate sushi in Takashimaya, I was eighteen and completely broke. My aunt slid a plate of salmon across the counter and told me to eat slowly, because good fish deserves patience. I’ve never forgotten that. Over the past six years, I’ve eaten my way through nearly every Japanese restaurant and sushi…
Some tables are only meant to hold plates. Others, without anyone planning it, begin to hold parts of our lives. They sit beneath bright mall lights, beside glass railings or near the hum of a food court. People come and go. Trays are cleared. Menus change. Yet certain tables become quietly familiar, not because they…
I wasn’t planning to eat at Food Opera Singapore that afternoon. I’d come down Orchard Road for something else, got ambushed by the heat, and ducked into ION just to cool off. The escalator brought me down to B4, and the smells started before I even saw the place: garlic, coconut broth, something charred and…