"Wanna go for lunch? Malay food, Palmer Road."

 

"Where's that?"

 

"No idea. N's bringing us there."

 

"Great! Let's go."

 

With that, the plan to visit the investor centre, even with all the reasons why I should not procrastinate on setting up an account, was shelved. Boring errands can wait; an excursion at noon time should not.

 

We walked into the TV station compound, past its 80's classroom-styled buildings, and crossed a tiny path that was almost indiscernible from beneath the creepers on the green fence, through a rusty gate. There it was – the Le Palmer Café housed in the Palmer Court (or Palmer House or was it Palmer Building?). The building was old, but its rounded façade and ship-like architecture had an air of nostalgic pride and must have been avant-garde once.

 

The café was a single stall operating kopitiam-style. At first glance, it looked very ordinary. But there was in fact a spread of at least 20 Malay dishes to choose from, from the ubiquitous sambal goreng to the less common ikan assam, and all very affordably priced. In fact, the food reminded me of the fare at Garuda (vivo), only more fragrant and dished up with heaps of smiles and great service*.

 

The best treat, in my opinion, was their Teh Tarik. The brew was smooth and milky to taste, had subtle scents of flowery tea and best of all, was topped with a pyramid of foam and served at a ready-to-drink temperature. Right at the cashier was a tray of kueh-muihs. The bright green juicy looking kueh dadars** caught my eye, as did the other kueh (the name escapes me) which was essentially wobbly kaya custard set atop a square of sweet glutinous rice. YUM. (yes we had them for dessert. Women have separate compartments for their sweets.)

 

The place had such an alluring laid-back feel, especially attractive, I would imagine, to harried office workers seeking to escape Shenton Way. The container ports were just across the road; the railway station was not too far off on the right; and the old TV station compound was to the left. Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied enjoying the delicious homey-fare in the laid back atmosphere to have taken any pictures. Well, maybe not unfortunately. I'll just have to head back there again.

 

Tanjong Pagar has such gems.

 

(*When I needed some tissue, the stall owner smiled and said, "We don't sell tissue. We provide *big smile*", and promptly handed me a wad of serviettes. Speak of pride and service!)

 

(** N says that 'dadar' means 'drugs'. Hence, kids would usually tease each other about 'being high on drugs' when they were enjoying their roll of kueh dadar. A good one is definitely addictive, I say!)