Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/107892
seems to be winning the current retail war. Walking down Still Road from the Eunos MRT station on my second-to-last day in the city, I realize to my dismay that I'm down to only 6 Singapore dollars. But it's enough. A bowl of savoury, slightly sweet, slightly spicy laksa sets me back 4. I'm forced to skip the side of fish paste everybody else is ordering – I need train fare back to my hotel. S ingapore is a great place to find Japanese snacks, as long as you're not a purist. Stopping by Wow Tako! in the basement p24-29_Singapore.indd 29 of the four-storey Bugis Junction shopping centre (near City Hall downtown) could be a shock for a Tokyo tourist. The little stand sells tako-yaki, the Japanese national snack, which is typically a chunk of octopus in a ball of fried batter (yaki means fried and tako is octopus). It certainly doesn't mean pineapple and cheese, or mushroom and cheese, or beef and cheese, or scallop – which are all proudly served here. Japanese desserts such as daifuku and tai-yaki (respectively, rice-paste dumplings filled with sweet red beans and waffle cookies shaped like cutesy fish) are also on the menu – some with durian filling. Durian is a fact of culinary life around here. The spiky fruit is a Chinese staple that has never caught on in the West, and frankly is unlikely ever to do so. The reason can be deduced from local hotel elevators. Frequently there's a little sign beside the door picturing a durian overlaid with a red circle and a slash. In terms of etiquette, cracking open a fresh durian in an elevator is the equivalent of lighting up a Cuban cigar. The stuff stinks. There are a few different varieties ranging from sweet to bitter, but they're all an acquired taste. My attempt to acquire it in Singapore's Chinatown a few days ago – with a durian crêpe – proved a miserable failure. The musky, acrid taste stayed with me for blocks. Nor do I have much success with my final big Singapore meal. I first spot the sign while wandering through the Burseh Food Centre on the edge of Little India – a big pictorial menu offering both stewed turtle and braised crocodile. I have nothing against turtles. But my youthful attempts to keep them as pets mean I have enough turtle blood on my hands. Crocodile it is. Braised crocodile doesn't look any more appetizing than you'd expect. It's served to me in a hot stone bowl, with a tangy broth to distract from the pale pebbled skin and single white claw emerging from the mix. Once I'm past the bone and gristle, the old cliché proves itself again – the meat does indeed taste like that mild-mannered bird that made a fortune for Colonel Sanders. Overall it's not bad. But at 18 Singapore dollars (45 for a whole paw) it's the most expensive hawker meal I've ever had, and certainly not the tastiest. The next day I get the rest of the bill. Crocodiles, I discover, can also attack from within. Next time I'll try to remember my place on the food chain. 13-01-21 3:05 PM