Humans have been hunting for meat two million years ago and continue to do so in the Holocene epoch. For our latest tumble down the road to low-cost feasts, it is I who must hunt for protein, dear readers, and what a righteous crusade it is. I journey to an establishment that trace its origins to 1973 (ah, très historique!) — NTUC Fairprice.
Considering its heritage, it came as no surprise that this eatery has quickly turned into a bastion of multi-disciplinary wares. Aside from splendid food offerings, NTUC Fairprice has branched into other commodities such as toilet papers, razors and even mineral water — an impressively innovative idea, surely.
But let’s get to the meat of the matter: I was there to critique its esteemed barbecued meats section. For a small kitchenette, its menu is as vast and challenging as it was when I journeyed to the meat markets of Italy, but without all the opulent jazz. After a quick scan of the arresting display of freshly roasted meats, I immediately felt droplets fall onto my tanned leather brogues — t’was my drool.
As customary, I requested for the chef’s recommendation but only received a grunt and a “faster pick what you want lah boy” from the maître d’ positioned behind the counter. Quickly I pointed at the choice cuts that exuded the most forthright of relish and she packed them in off-white eco-friendly paper bags. I’m loving this restaurant/homeware emporium already.
Daintily plucking the meats from their minimal wrappings with a wood-grained pincer in order to preserve their juices, I left them on my chabudai to rest. I present to you the NTUC Fairprice meat platter — a slab of pork ribs with black pepper rub; a choice assortment of seasoned bratwursts; a chef’s cut of honey-glazed chicken leg and mid-joint wings; and two skewers of bacon-wrapped sausages to taste.
This bespoke meal was tackled head first into the first course with the skewered meats. Looking like elaborate miniature meals themselves, the wooden stakes pierced into the very kernel of the sausages and wings, which must have unlocked the hidden flavors from within.
The bacon-wrapped sausages (two sticks for $2.50) took on a shy demeanour but burst forth their salty secretions with every bite, dancing across my palate with high notes of smokiness. The wings ($1.50 per stick) glazed on unconditionally, and seized upon the present saltiness by delivering that familiar cloying sweetness that can only happen when honey and protein collide.
Though it was a majestic initiation, I knew NTUC Fairprice simply had more in store for its sophisticated diners. In came the entrées; the ribs and the chicken leg. Oh if our ancestors could see how I’ve hunted down the purchase of this meat.
Garnished with Mysorean black peppercorns, the ribs ($2 per 100g) revealed a surprising duality, almost schizophrenic in taste. Biting into the pepper crust, I was pleased to recognize the familiar sweet taste of char siu locked inside the gristly flesh of the pork. Such ingenuity, this plot twist! Stupidly enough, I thought I could tone down the exploding relish with a bite of the honey-glazed chicken leg ($3), but lo, that only produced a deluge of richness that could only be described as a renaissance of the senses as the meats dissolved into sticky sweetness.
To cap off that menagerie of roasted meats, the assortment of sausages ($6 for 4 pieces) — which included chorizo, and other smoked fares — came next.
They were pretty fucking shitty, I can tell you that. Seriously, fuck these sausages. They were insipid, spiceless and deserve to be taken outside, stepped upon and shot at.
Despite that minor infraction, one cannot really fault NTUC Fairprice for its transgression towards intestine-wrapped ground meat. The rest of its fares were most succulent nonetheless, and mostly swathed in a cloak of culinary gold.
Perhaps in its younger days, NTUC Fairprice would have been prouder in their preparation of sausages. These days however — in the hustle and bustle to stay relevant — it must have forgotten the zeitgeist of tubular protein nourishments.
Read more Le Cheap Gourmand:
Pasar Malam and the legacies left behind by cultural culinary bastions
