The GF’s mother was giving a talk on mental health (she is a psychotherapist) at the GF’s organisation so I walked her there and then went to Chinatown to buy soup spoons with roosters on them (requested by my good friend who is trapped in Multan), and continue my somewhat desultory quest to try lots of curry laksa. So I went to Madras Lane, named after a long-demolished cinema on that site. Finding it wasn’t easy, luckily I know the area fairly well. There is a Chinese gate next to a Chinese temple, which goes in past fishmongers and vegetable stalls into a rather repellant hawker centre. Turn right and by a parking lot is a row of three curry laksa stalls. The best is apparently the middle one, so that’s what I had. Curry laksa is primarily a breakfast dish so there was no queue.
It was a tasty little bowl, lighter than others I’ve tried, and came with a kalamansi lime that lightened it further and cut through saltiness. The best thing about it was undoubtedly the blood cockles, which were fat, fresh and tasting thoroughly of the sea. Very delicious. Sadly I splashed some on my lovely t-shirt.
I took the MRT back and walked through Friday market on our street. It was very busy and I got some lungfuls of diesel fumes from the cars stuck in pedestrian traffic. I had wanted some cendol to cool me down after the walk, the traffic and the laksa, but the one I was looking for (a little stall which shaves its ice using a handcranked device operated by a little old man) was not there – perhaps it doesn’t come on Fridays.