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I’ve come across hawker stalls with artsy, extravagant names, bright LED lights, and beautifully shot pictures — but the actual food turned out to be rather ordinary. It felt as though all that flair and visual polish were just a front to mask the mediocrity of the food. Then you’ve got businesses like No Name Prawn Mee over at 262 Serangoon Central that just display pictures of their dishes with no shop identity. No fluff, no trying too hard to impress, just honest food that gets straight to the point.
Open till 11.30pm daily, this place was first introduced by one of my ex-colleagues, and even my current intern, Zhen Wei, who heads here for supper quite often. After doing some research, I realised that I’ve actually walked past this stall several times before, and never once have I stopped to take notice of it. As I was writing this article, I had 3 other friends DM-ing me on Instagram, telling me that they are also regulars. Woah! It’s that popular, eh?
“My mum said this stall has been around for close to 20 years,” my friend, Xiao Ting exclaimed. Thank you, Aunty — I couldn’t get an answer from either the uncle or the chef!
I dropped by around 11.30am, and there was already a long line of customers waiting to place their orders. Thankfully, service was speedy and efficient, and I received my food within 10 minutes.
What I tried at No Name Prawn Mee
The menu features close to 10 types of noodles, and choosing what to get was a challenge of its own.
I decided to start with something light and simple, the Fishball Bee Hoon Soup (S$3.50) — I can already ‘hear’ some of you yawning out of boredom. If you’re like me and have done regular food tastings every week for 3 years straight, you’ll know the importance of ordering dishes like this to counter all that richness. It’s like sipping on a pot of hot tea after an extravagant feast.
If a bowl of Fishball Bee Hoon Soup were to exist in the human world, it’d be a plain Jane — modest, quietly dressed, and never one to seek the spotlight. But one sip of that robust broth and silky bee hoon reveals it’s actually a supermodel in disguise. How unassuming! As someone who loves fiery, peppery broths à la our Singapore-style bak kut teh, I appreciated that the chef had added copious amounts of pepper. Each spoonful carried a slow, creeping burn that built up beautifully as I slurped the silky strands of bee hoon.
I was quite certain that the fishballs weren’t the handcrafted kind as each round beauty looked uniform in shape. But man, I need to know which supplier they get these bouncy, immaculate white orbs from — they were bouncy and delicious.
Huang Ah Yi Noodle: Juicy fried XL meatballs handmade daily with dry-tossed mee tai bak
We then allowed the dry Pork Ribs w Prawn Noodle (S$5) to grace our taste buds. It was kind of funny when the uncle asked me twice if I wanted mee pok — even after I’d specifically told him yellow mee — but I still ended up with mee pok. Not complaining though.
The strands of flat egg noodles were glistening under the afternoon sun, covered in red speckles from the chilli seasoning underneath. The noodles were cooked to precision, retaining a satisfying bite. As someone who prefers his seasonings with a little taste of lard oil, the noodles here were a tad too sweet, possessing notes of ketchup in the mix. Don’t get me wrong, it was still quite tasty, but the flavour wasn’t up my alley. If you love ketchup, then you just might be a fan of the sauce.
Every ounce of seasoning had penetrated into the pork rib’s crevices and meat fibre, making each piece extremely tasty yet tender. The prawns were also fairly decent and fresh.
Now, on to the areas that needed improvement (in my opinion). The bowl of prawn broth that came together tasted more like a peppery, MSG-laden soup with weak hints of prawn flavour. I just wished there wasn’t a kangkong scarcity situation going on — I only managed to find a few stray pieces here and there.
Last but not least, I moved on to the final dish — Laksa (S$4). The flaming-red bowl, with chilli oil floating menacingly on top, might instantly scare off non-spice lovers — they’d probably see it as pure food carnage. The laksa was filled with thick bee hoon, half a boiled egg, tau pok, and fish cake slices.
First of all, I would like to give props to the stall for choosing to use fresh daun kesum (laksa leaves). No offence to some establishments, but using dried laksa leaves is an atrocity that my Peranakan grandmother will disapprove of with gusto. The citrus-like herby fragrance was really strong and perfumed each spoonful of laksa.
Though the gravy wasn’t the richest and lemak version I’ve savoured, it was good enough to scratch the itch. Its consistency was nice and thick, coating the noodles and ingredients like a reliable, snug pair of gloves.
The cockles were fresh and firm to the bite, and every other ingredient pulled its weight to create a truly enjoyable bowl.
Final thoughts
I’m glad that even though I felt a little overwhelmed by the menu’s sheer variety, I still ended up picking all the right dishes for lunch. I guess from now on, I’ll be keeping an eye on this stall — it’s definitely one that’s worth revisiting.
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