Ming Shan: 83-year-old herbal mutton soup recipe with tender meat & offals by 3rd-gen hawker

Rarely do my folks and I venture into the realm of lamb, fearing its potential gaminess. But guess what? Our first dive at mutton soup was at Lao Wu Ji Mutton Soup, which unexpectedly blew our socks off. Now, we’re wondering if Ming Shan at Chinatown Complex Market and Food Centre can match up or if we’ll be left disappointed— I promise, no biasness!

While chatting with the 3rd-gen owner, I found out that the current stall has been around for over 40 years, having relocated once within the same food centre. Back in 1943, The business began its journey at Thong Chai Medical Institution.

Following an 83-year-old recipe, the broth is boiled for nearly 3 hours, involving over 11 types of Chinese herbs. I was trying my best to decipher the Chinese words on the signboard which stated the benefits of consuming herbal mutton soup. They include treating insomnia and boosting your ‘qi‘ (hopefully, I’m right).

What I tried at Ming Shan

I kicked off with the small Mutton Mee Sua Soup (S$6). It packed wheat vermicelli, pieces of mutton, goji berries, bits of Chinese celery, all doused in a translucent light-brown broth.

I tackled the broth first. Its consistency was a tad thick and starchy, probably from the mee sua. While it went down smooth and light, its taste left me torn. If you’re not a fan of bold herbal kicks, this soup’s your jam. But if you crave a punchier flavour like I do, it might come off a bit diluted.

I really enjoyed the texture of the vermicelli— a lovely balance of firmness, offering a gratifying chew, unlike the mushy versions I’ve experienced elsewhere. The little bursts of sweetness from the wolfberries were a delightful touch, while the Chinese celery added a subtle, grassy finish to the mix.

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My teeth glided through the mutton effortlessly, encountering no resistance. The meat was very tender and didn’t contain any hint of that gamey aftertaste— pure bliss! But if I had to nitpick, it’d be the portion size and the abundance of bones.

I then moved on to the small Mixed Mutton Soup Special (S$10). This bowl had 1 colossal bone-in tendon, a lone mutton ball, mutton pieces and tripe, all swimming in mutton broth and topped with wolfberries and Chinese celery. To play it safe, I also snagged 2 bowls of Plain Rice (S$0.70 each) on standby, just in case things got a tad salty!

I was determined to give the mutton broth a second chance, this time without the mee sua. Indeed, it was less starchy than the previous dish. The soup was faintly sweet and the herbal notes, particularly star anise, were more pronounced, but it still lacked the oomph that Lao Wu Ji Mutton Soup possessed.

I lifted the massive piece of tendon. It was a rare sight to see it still firmly attached to the bone, giving it the appearance of a rib. I had to do a double-take to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

Unfortunately, despite its impressive size, I struggled to extract much tendon and meat. It was also too firm for my liking.

The tripe pieces were expertly prepared. Each surface gleamed with pristine cleanliness, and they were wonderfully soft, bursting with flavour.

With only 1 mutton ball in sight, we decided to divide the poor fella into 3 equal parts among myself and my 2 dining companions. Although that tiny piece was delicious, it felt like an amuse-bouche; it tantalised my palate but left me craving for more.

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Is there a guide of worthy Cantonese-style soup spots in Singapore to try?