Malaysia
Singapore
Thailand
What are you up to at 10.30pm? Getting ready for bed, perhaps. I can’t say the same for my nocturnal self, although my nightly routine rarely involves supper — and certainly not waiting more than an hour for a plate of wanton mee at a time where my teeth’s usually already brushed. But that’s exactly what went down the night I visited Koka Wanton Noodles.
You see, there’s nothing ordinary about this stall. Located in North Bridge Road Food Centre, it opens just 4 nights a week, for 4 hours each time (10.30pm to 2.30am), boasts a Michelin recommendation and somehow manages to maintain a wait of no less than an hour. Naturally, I was itching to find out whether it’s worth all that fuss. And what a rollercoaster that turned out to be.
In hindsight, I was a little too optimistic thinking punctuality was all I’d need to escape that fabled hour-long wait. The stall’s signboard wasn’t even lit at 10.30pm yet! Fast forward to 11.03pm (yes, I watched the clock like a hawk) and it finally flickered to life — my cue to finally approach the auntie who’d waved me off on my earlier attempt.
“You need to wait very long,” she told me curtly in Mandarin, “About an hour.” Already? How?! But sure, challenge accepted. I placed my order, and thus began the waiting game.
Koka Wanton Noodles must have some sort of secret club or priority list, because everyone around me seemed to already know the drill. I watched as diner after diner received their orders, some even collecting massive bags stuffed with multiple packets to go. Maybe I really was so unluckily the only non-regular.
What I tried at Koka Wanton Noodles
If there’s anything good that came out of the wait, it’s learning I’m far more patient than I ever thought I was (look at me now, Mom), but more importantly a sign that the food was going to be worth the wait. It was 12.20am and the auntie finally made her way over, tray in hand.
Oh! Um… Is that it?
I didn’t say that out loud, of course, but I’m sure any rational first-timer would’ve reacted the way I did when I received my S$5 Wanton Mee order. I wouldn’t go as far as to call the portion “puny”, but let’s just say you can roughly gauge its size by the soup spoon for scale. Good thing I’d already had dinner, though you may be interested in the S$6, S$7 or S$8 portions if you’re showing up on an empty stomach.
Here’s a better look at the noodles, the entire nest of which I could lift at one go with my chopsticks and spoon. I’m guilty of inhaling my food in record time when I’m starving, and this portion could probably cover two, maybe three of those voracious mouthfuls, tops.
Taste-wise, the noodles were… fine. They had a decent spring, cooked al dente as all respectable wanton mee should be. Each curly strand was evenly coated in the savoury sauce, with some backbone lent by lard oil and a soft heat from a dab of chilli. My reigning gripe was that there simply wasn’t enough of anything to dig into, which subtracted from what otherwise a decent, though hardly memorable, plate of old-school wanton mee.
I know better than to expect top-grade, charcoal-roasted char siew from the average wanton mee stall, but the scarce scatter of slices here left much to be desired. While they carried a faint sweetness, the meat leaned dry and slightly stringy. Not terrible, but I’ve had far better (and I promise it’s not just my prejudice talking).
Accompanying them were mushrooms and chye sim, the former lending a mild earthiness while the latter a fresh crunch. They did their part in theory, but sadly neither did much to elevate the dish.
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I got my hopes up as the soup looked promising at first glance — because, you know, cloudy soups usually mean hours of simmering and a broth steeped with flavour.
Unfortunately, my excited first sip would quickly turn to dismay. Instead of rich, peppery depth, I was greeted with a strangely muted profile and an odd, fishy undertone. Not to be harsh, but I wondered if the soul of the broth had an early night.
I was hoping the wantons would save the day. Though tiny, their silky crinkles had them looking fairly respectable. Sadly, more disappointment awaited. For dumplings that were already petite, the filling inside was even smaller. The wrinkled pocket packed a surprising amount of air, and the tiny nugget of filling that did exist tasted ordinary at best, with a mildly seasoned porky flavour where I could make it out.
Final thoughts
Koka Wanton Noodles ended up being, very honestly, one of the most underwhelming wanton mees I’ve ever had. I suppose it could appeal to those who enjoy a more old-school style — if that’s what I understand the term to mean — but my experience certainly didn’t justify the hour-long wait. The noodles were serviceable but middling, the char siew passable and the wantons… well, at least I’m pretty sure they’re handmade.
I laud them for their tireless service at such late hours, though I admit I personally can’t quite grasp their Michelin recognition. But judging by the crowd of regulars that fervently brave the queues, I highly doubt my distaste for the food will put even the slightest dent in business.
Expected damage: S$5 – S$8 per pax
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