Lee Kui Ah Hoi Restaurant

Lee Kui Ah Hoi Restaurant – 8/9/10 Mosque Street

A waitress barking “How many?” in Teochew with a baleful stare the moment you step through the doors would cause most to turn heel and march out of any restaurant. However, should you let the hostile wait staff and raucous setting slide; you’ll get a truly delicious slice of history on a dime. My mother has been sampling traditional Teochew fare at this eatery since it started off as a cze char push cart in the 60s and dinner for two at $57 is a price reminiscent of that bygone era. (The Chinese names of the various dishes have been anglicised.)

The Oyster Porridge is a vastly different creature from the typical gluey gruel one finds; this was composed of delicate rice grains floating in a light but flavourful stock made from crisp-fried fish. The numerous oysters floating about were cooked to a creamy, springy perfection and were divine with a fiery, piquant vinegar-lime chilli sauce.

The Selection of Five Appetisers was a lip-smacking crash course in typical Teochew finger food. The liver rolls had a generous dose of 5 spice powder that resulted in an explosive flavour which melded perfectly with the natural metallic tang of the organ meat. The meaty prawn balls were pure heaven with caramel notes from the sweet sauce while the crisp, golden spring rolls were stuffed full of turnip and carrot. Finally, two varieties of fritters of unknown composition add a hint of decidedly delectable mystique to the mix.

The Braised Sea Cucumber with Pork is a must have for any connoisseur of cuisine from this dialect group. Eaten largely for its gelatinous texture, sea cucumber readily takes on the flavours it is surrounded by. In this instance, a rich, umami thickened meat stock accented with star anise left me almost breathless with pleasure. The sought-after texture may be the result of how sea cucumbers can actively tighten or loosen their catch-collagen fibres, liquefying themselves to squeeze through cracks in rock.

The delicious paper-thin crisp skin coating a thick, delicate, pillowy inner layer of the Fried Pig’s Intestine illustrates a brutally steep temperature gradient used masterfully. Those who remember their biology would recognise the transverse folds of the large intestine which would mean a truly backbreaking cleaning process.

The Pig’s Intestine Stuffed with Glutinous Rice - on the other hand - involves the small intestine in what is reminiscent of a sausage. A sinful combination of lard and smoked meat saturates the sticky grains with flavour.

The Pork Terrine looks like those fossils frozen in time at the natural history museum, pretty intimidating stuff. Coils of tripe, cubes of meat and various dismembered odds-and-ends are floating in gelatinised stock in suspended animation. The unsqueamish will be rewarded with chewiness, pillow-softness, melt-in-your-mouth and a symphony of other textures in a single bite. A good, tear-inducing chilli sauce is a must!