Muthu's Curry: Meant for Sharing

After the hawker fare of Lau Pa Sat and dimsum at the various Crystal Jade branches in the previous days, I made my way to Little India. I gawked at the potbellied pantheon at Sri Veeramakaliamman Temple, shopped at Mustafa Center and then peeked at Naranjan to see how much I'd been fleeced for the electronics. After all that, it was a little past lunch hour and I knew I deserved a great meal.

Hat on my head, sunglasses covering my face and shopping bags hanging off my forearms, I made my way to Race Course Road to see where it all began. It being Fish Head Curry, a dish reputedly concocted in Singapore. Where being Muthu's Curry, a restaurant operated by the child of the genius who first made the dish.   

The most of the lunch crowd was already getting up and leaving, a good number of them local. Most were rubbing their bellies and happily clutching takeaway bags. Excellent signs. 

A kindly whippet-thin East Indian man introduced himself as my waiter, and helped me with my bags. He found me a table near the middle of the restaurant, away from the direct tropical sunshine and close enough to the airconditioner without risking a cold draft. I told him I came for the fish head curry. He proudly told me that yes, this place had made the first ever fish head curry and that people still came here for exactly that. He also warned me that people often found it very spicy which is why he recommended the mango lassi. 

Fish head curry, papadums, rice, and mango lassi.

Outside, it was hot and humid. Hell, it was Singapore. I asked for water hand if they could please fast track my mango lassi. A quick polite nod and a glass of very cold water with four ice cubes materialized followed two minutes later by my mango lassi, a shake of ripe mango, milk and yoghurt. So far, so perfect.

I was still enjoying my first glass of mango lassi when the waiter came bearing a big bowl of the curry, papadums, and rice. He explained that their food was meant for sharing and to be eaten by hand although he did bring me silverware, which I gladly accepted. He then laid a banana leaf in front of me and fixed my food on it like so: 

The fish head, rice topped with curry, and lots of okra. No one would be offended if you ask for  spoon and fork. 

(Like Filipinos, the Malays and East Indians of Singapore have a tradition of eating with their fingers. That said, they would not be offended if you asked for silverware, which would be the spoon and the fork. For this fish curry, trust me, you won't be needing a knife.) 

The curry broth was red and gold and very very fragrant. There was that curry heat which melts away to some ginger flavors before leaving a sweet herby finish. And the fish heads! The flesh, especially the cheeks, were perfect juicy morsels brightened up by the curry. In polite company, I would have been obligated to share the eyes which were absolutely fantastic. Pop one in your mouth to enjoy a tiny bead of curried gelatin which melts in your tongue to an almost sweet briny goo. Then do it again with the other eye. Advantage: the Solitary Traveler.

(An American-born friend finds my obvious enjoyment of fish heads disgusting. My rapture at eating eyes is incomprehensible. I'm just glad no one is watching while I spit the hard whites of the eyes into a napkin when I'm done.)

The papadums were crisp and toasted just right. I dipped some in the curry broth and they were sensational but I'm hopelessly devoted to rice. The rice and curry combination just cheered me up. Glorious!

I have an indifference-hate relationship with okra. In most dishes, I don't mind it. When it's slimy, I avoid it. Okra in curry is fine. There's little of the off-putting sliminess and seeds actually tasted green and very fresh and contrasted nicely with the curry itself. I suppose the heat also made my mouth numb to the okra's hairy flesh.

I got through about quarter or third of the delicious curry and was on half of my second lassi when I knew I'd had enough. Enough for now, anyway. I called my kind waiter and asked for the check. All that extra food he also took away and placed in a takeway bag while I sipped the last of my mango lassi. 

Before I left, the kindly waiter gave me another glass of water ("It's still very hot outside outside.") which I gratefully accepted. He even helped me carry by bags to the door.

At the hotel later that evening, I had a little bit more of the curry with a bottle of very cold Coca-cola. My kindly waiter thoughtfully included two pairs of spoons and forks and paper plates but I still had no one to share the curry with. The curry flavors now completely permeated the flesh of the fish. The papadums were no longer as crisp but were still quite good. I ate a good quantity but there was still a lot more of the curry.

 I was re-wrapping the curry when a lady on turn-down duty knocked. "Curry?" she smiled, when I let her in.

"Fish," I nodded as I placed them back inside the bag. "From Muthu's at Little India. There's still one or two more portions, I think." I offered her the bag

She gave me another bright smile and accepted the food. I'd like to think she had it for dinner and maybe shared it with a co-worker or her family. Like my kindly waiter said, the food was meant to be shared.