Celebrity chef
Nguyen Nam Quoc offers a hearty version of the Vietnamese noodles
with quality beef.
Singapore, October 21, 2011
Annam Vietnamese Cuisine
Shaw Centre, #02-11
1 Scotts Road
Singapore 228208
Tel: 6735-6656
At 7, Nguyen Nam Quoc arrived in
Denmark with his parents as Vietnam War refugees, escaping the
hardship and terror in their homeland.
As a young adult, he joined the army and became an elite soldier.
That gave him the opportunity to join the UN peace-keeping force
for the Serbo-Croatia war where he signed up for kitchen duty.
Like the earlier milestones in his life, the cooking
experience was a stepping stone to an illustrious career in top
restaurants in Denmark, Thailand and Singapore.
Schooled in classical French cooking, Nguyen has been known for his
modern European cuisine with Asian influences. It was during his
stint at Singapore's Lighthouse that his artful creations became
more cross-cultural.
It caught the attention of F & B leaders and gourmets, who
nominated him as a rising chef in Singapore in the early
2000s.
Although he moved to Thailand after that, the Les Amis
group had already noticed his special talent and invited him to do
a promotion at their flagship French restaurant last year.
It led to a more fruitful partnership, resulting in one of
Singapore's first upscale Vietnamese restaurants, Annam, taking its
pride of place in the Les Amis collection of chic restaurants
fronting the Claymore side of Shaw Centre.
Entering the restaurant is almost like poking into someone's
house in the colonial era of the early half of 20th century.
If not for the Vietnamese art works and old-world furniture, you
would mistake this for a family-run bistro what with French songs
from a glorious era cooing in the background.
I aint heard no Miss Saigon or Vietnamese tunes, but a ceaseless
flow of La Vie En Rose ilk until it was overtaken by the lunch
chatter of eager diners wanting to check out this new
restaurant.
But don't be mistaken. This is not a restaurant serving French fare
with Indochinese undertones.
It is an unintimidating homey establishment offering a good array
of honest to goodness Vietnamese food at prices that seemed to have
shot through the ceiling.
For instance, a bowl of beef Pho noodles will set you back by $28++
or more than $30. The chicken version, $26++.
The Pho at a swanky restaurant in Orchard was cheaper at $21.
When told of Annam's prices, a Vietnamese restauranteur widened her
eyes in surprise and said: "If I were to sell a $30 Pho, it would
have to be so good that you would faint with pleasure after eating
it."
So were we ecstatic after slurping up Nguyen's delicious Pho, which
costs about four times the price of a foodcourt version?
Nah, I didn't swoon but I felt good.
My energy level was on the higher register after downing the beefy
goodness. I was also fascinated by Nguyen's more assertive
touches.
It was a somewhat mean Pho. Definitely meaner than the pussy
versions at other places.
Palpably spiced by cinnamon and star anise, the soup was heartier
and more beefy. The saltiness of the fish sauce matched the
sweetness of the sugar (likely to be rock sugar).
And it was beguilingly more herby too. Apart from the commonly
used basil leaves and spring onions, there was Vietnamese coriander
too (laksa leaves). Cut chillies added that necessary sting.
The best part was the beef.
Annam used good Australian beef from cattle primed by a 150-day
grain diet. Hence the delicious flavour and succulence, and also
the steeper price tag.
The braised brisket, tendon and freshly cooked lean meats were all
nicely tender. The only disappointment was the factory-made beef
ball.
Chef Nguyen might want to consider asking the supplier to make a
customised version following his recipe if he has no time to make
them.
Provided as dips for the beef were commercially made chilli and
hoisin sauces
How were the noodles? Very good. Smooth, slim and
clean-tasting.
A small spoonful of spring onion oil mixed with tiny lard crispies
were added to the noodles and tossed. The aromatic flavouring
gave the Pho an edge over others.
But it wasn't enough to make the Pho a knockout. Maybe a spoonful
more might do the trick.
It is still a good Pho worth the splash if you have the means for
expensive beef.
The chicken version was good too. The soothing soup was tinged with
the rustic gaminess of gizzards and liver that you could counter
with a squeeze of lime and some cut chillies. You either like or
hate this one.
Looking at the droves of well-heeled customers sweeping through its
door, I won't be surprised if it gets requests for more premium
beef like Japanese wagyu soon.