The wet markets of Singapore; how do I begin to describe them to one who has never been? Do I simply explain that they are open air food stands contained under a common roof and offering fresh food to buy? I could write a tome listing the endless array of fruit, vegetables, meat, seafood, poultry and a host of things that I don't exactly know how to classify but nevertheless look great. Or do I describe them as a gathering of different vendors in every neighborhood in Singapore selling meat, produce and dry goods specific to the predominant ethnicity of that area? That could become and even bigger tome. As I learn the specialization in some of these markets I can often choose which one to venture into depending on the category of my peckish sentiment at the time. If, for example, I want lamb or mutton, along with ghee in which to cook it and banana leaves on which to serve it, I head to Tekka market in Little India. If pork tickles my palate, I avoid Tekka (the Muslims don't carry much of that!) and head to Tiong Bahru where one can buy the entire swine's skull or -- for the more particular -- just the ears or tails or trotters, not to mention all (and I mean all) parts in between.
The heart/lung combo at Tiong Bahru - is this still called "pork?"
If, alternatively, my menu calls for fully intact chickens or ducks; whole pigs; live frogs; squirming eels; lotus root packed in mud; any variety of live crabs; preserved duck eggs (which, by their blackened, straggly feathers and overall semi-decomposed appearance, may very possibly be the ultimate misnomer); nearly any variety of dried sea flora or fauna or piles of tender, soft noodles, it's off to Chinatown's market. The list of options available at the many Singapore wet markets goes on and on.
A typical wet market vegetable aisle.
My favorite Muslim mutton man.
Chicken the way is should be sold.
A typical fruit stall at wet market.
Dried chilies, shrimps, and other treasures of sea and land in a wet market.
But every now and then something shows up that intrigues even the most well-seasoned marketeer and is worthy of special note. And this day was no exception. I walked into Tekka market in search of lemon grass for a refreshing "tea" that cuts through the tropical heat simmering within my core after a crowded morning slogging through the fish-scaly puddles and fleshy air of a wet market. When I happened upon a shark. Not a shark like the smaller ones in every fish stall - black tip reefers or the ubiquitous dogfish used to make an affordable interpretation of shark's fin soup. But a rather biggish shark -- stretching nearly 2 meters. In other words big enough to cause your average expat holiday snorkeler to unexpectedly contaminate the clear waters of a coral reef. Its pinpoint eyes--piercing even in death--caught my attention first, following which I momentarily scanned its length, estimating the height of its dorsal fin and, inevitably, the diameter of its wide mouth. I stood there, admiring the catch of the day, with its tawny sandpaper skin, intricate leopard spots and creamy underbelly. I touched it.
You never know what surprises await in a Singapore wet market.
"You wan buy?" the Chinese fishmonger barked at me from across the crabs and squid. I could sense from his dubious expression that he already knew the answer. But I played along.
"How much?"
"Seven per kilo." No doubt, a "special price" for the sweaty ang mo with the Nikon standing before him. "But must buy whole fish."
"How heavy?" I replied, eyeballing the beast as if sizing it up for my wok at home.
"Fifty five k-g. Very nice!"
I did the math and wondered if in Princeton, New Jersey one could buy a fresh 120 pound shark for $260. That's about $2.15/pound. Not bad, I thought, trying to picture our maid's expression when I slapped that bad boy down on the kitchen counter so she could get to work.
But apparently I was not the only one with such grand ideas, because before I knew it a more ambitious Singaporean stepped forward and, speaking rapidly to the vendor in short, sharp words, pointed to the fish. I glanced at him, my face demonstrating disappointment at his attempt to usurp my family's dinner. My competitive spirit flared and I nearly leaned in to begin the bidding war. But he had the advantage -- Mandarin -- and the negotiation went fast and furious, until he handed over what appeared to be a much smaller amount of currency than previously required, and sealed the deal. "Xie xie," my fishmonger friend nodded at my victor before dropping the money into a tin and turning away to address an enormous grouper in need of filleting.
And so ended my shark tale at Tekka. But that's okay, because tomorrow is another day in the wet markets of Singapore...
and I'm going back for goat....
Just a sampling (really!) of the vast and exotic selection of fresh seafood in a Singapore market.
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