1 /5 Kevin Flynn: I’ve just finished a laksa from this place, and let me spell it out clearly: this was an absolute disaster, one of the worst executions of a so-called “laksa” I’ve ever tasted, and an embarrassment to Singapore — a nation with a proud culinary heritage that would never tolerate this kind of carelessness.
From the first mouthful, it was obvious something was fundamentally wrong.
This wasn’t “spicy.” This wasn’t “rich.” This wasn’t “authentic.”
This was a capsaicin minefield — a broth so violently overloaded with chilli paste that it jumped straight past flavour and went into biological assault territory. I’m talking involuntary nasal explosions, eyes watering, sinuses detonating — not because it was good, but because it was chemically imbalanced.
And the oil. My god, the oil.
Instead of a smooth, creamy, emulsified coconut broth, they served a bowl with a thick, floating layer of fishy oil that coated the noodles like rancid varnish. Laksa is meant to have subtle shrimp aromatics, not taste like someone dumped a ladle of oxidised fish oil into the pot. This wasn’t “umami.” This wasn’t “depth.”
It was rank, overpowering, and genuinely unpleasant.
You can tell when a kitchen has lost control of its base paste, and this place has lost control completely. The ingredients separated. The heat was unchecked. The broth was unbalanced. The entire bowl was a chemical burn disguised as lunch.
And the worst part?
The reviews have already been screaming this for months — and the owner still hasn’t fixed it.
People are repeatedly pointing out the same issues:
Too oily
Too spicy to eat
Fishy off-notes
Poor balance
Inconsistent broth
Terrible quality control
Yet they carry on pumping out the same bowl of culinary chaos like nothing is wrong.
Singaporeans take their laksa seriously. It’s a national point of pride.
No Singaporean hawker auntie would ever stand for this level of sloppiness — they’d throw the whole pot out and start again before serving something so badly executed. But here? They ignore every critique, every warning sign, every customer who has clearly suffered through the same bowl of liquid regret.
This isn’t a “twist” on laksa.
This isn’t “their take” on laksa.
This is a failure — of recipe, of technique, of quality control, and of management.
If the owner wants to fix this, they need to stop brushing off the honest feedback, get back into the kitchen, taste their own product, and rebuild the broth from scratch — properly — instead of hoping customers will keep putting up with this mess.
Until then, this dish isn’t a laksa.
It’s a stain.
And a proud culinary tradition deserves a hell of a lot better.