October 18, 2010
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The French Kitchen
It’s hard to come by authentic French establishments these days. Far too many cafes, bistros and restaurants quietly serve up fusion fare, sneaking in herbs and spices otherwise never used in French cooking. But, as Jean Charles Dubois proudly declared himself, The French Kitchen has the pleasure of offering bona fide, untainted French menu selections for lunches and dinners at incredibly reasonable prices. The menus change every now and then, and so if you’re in luck, there’ll be caviar, if not, then pan-seared foie gras, sea scallops, veal or duck leg confit and a myriad of other very possible appearances by seasonal French ingredients may pleasantly surprise you.
The French Kitchen is situated in Central Mall at Magazine Road, a little ways from Clarke Quay and should not be confused with The Central that is directly above Clarke Quay station.
It’s a humble restaurant and seats about 30 people modestly. We easily took up half the seating capacity, walking in blearily after finally having found our way through the downpour that day for a three-course lunch.
The decor is bright, elegant and minimalistic, none of that froufrou ambience characteristic of French fine-dining establishments. It isn’t casual, oh definitely not, but it’s comfortable, and there is nothing else more satisfying than dining at ease, without a choking collar of propriety around your neck. Read more of this post
March 11, 2010
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I’d passed by Tampopo several times before on my increasingly frequent –and hence the inversely proportionate number of updates – trips down to Clarke quay, and never once has its presence made an impact on me. You would think it odd, really, that large, bold letters, almost obnoxious with their neon green halo, would have failed to grab a second or two of my attention during all my Japanese grocery shopping indulgences in Liang Court, Meidi-ya.
You can’t miss it.
Unless, of course, you enter Liang Court from entrances other than the one from Clarke Quay, because even to park there, you would have to drive by it on the way into the car park.
The only reason why I knew of its existence was because of one fateful Sunday family lunch in which we decided against waiting for twenty minutes for a table and ended up dining at BOTEJYU Okonomiyaki on the second floor. Then coincidently, the class boys wanted to have a Sunday dinner there on the fifteenth of Chinese New Year, out of the blue. Since my family hadn’t any plans that day, camera in arm, I was dispatched under strict order by Ashley and my mom to return with a review or not return at all. An insane ramen craving does this, I am aware, and if I weren’t curious myself from the numerous positive reviews of Tampopo smattered all over Hungrygowhere, I wouldn’t bother, even if it meant I would be relegated to the corner with liquid food to last me.