Singapore Month - Week 4: The Chicken Wing

A few of you out there have already heard this story, but it is one of my favourite experiences in Singapore, so I thought I would write about it here for posterity's sake.

This took place a couple of years ago, and began with a discussion about the lack of good chicken wings in Singapore. You know the kind: plump, juicy, smothered in hot buffalo sauce and that leave you with the feeling that you've swallowed a tub of acid. In Singapore, it's quite common to find barbecued chicken wings, which are good in their own right, or deep-fried wings that are served plain with perhaps a small dish of chili sauce to dip them in. Neither wing affords the same kind of appeal as the true buffalo wings I'm used to back home.

So anyway, here I am out with some of Laura's colleagues and their spouses. We start to wax poetic on the gastronomical glory of the North American chicken wing, when one of the guys points out that he recalls reading about this spectacular chicken wing restaurant in a recent magazine article. The article documented the reporter's attempts to find the spiciest food in Singapore, which brought her to the Sunset Bar and Grill up at Selatar Airport (which is essentially a low-volume private airport in northern Singapore). Legend had it that the bar served chicken wings with a choice of 30 different levels of spiciness. Apparently the level 30 was so devastating that the author of the article ended up in the hospital later that night. If that wasn't a challenge, I don't know what is.

So it was decided that we'd somehow locate this rather obscure eatery whose location is about as remote in Singapore as you can get. The problem was actually getting there.

We called a taxi and were picked up by an old uncle whose appearance, voice and mannerisms were the closest I've ever come to meeting Yoda in person. He was an excitable type who had the tendency (as many taxi drivers do), to speak in circles and more or less ignore any comments you may actually have. This actually works in your favour more often than not, because it usually takes 10 or 15 minutes to really understand what the guy's saying to begin with.

So here I am in the backseat with two other guys. Let's just call them K and M. K tries to explain where we want to go, but doesn't have the actual address. We explain that we want to head to Selatar Airport for chicken wings. This is a rough transcription of what happened next:

Driver: Chicken wing! Chicken wing! AH AH AH AH AH AH!

(The three of us look at each other trying to figure out what's so funny).

M: Yeah, you know the chicken wings at Selatar?

Driver: I know! I know! AH AH AH AH AH AH!

Me: You sure you know how to get there? To Selatar Airport?

Driver: Yes! Yes! I be logistic man. I be middle man. I take care of you! I get you there, no worry! AH AH AH AH AH AH!

Me: What's he talking about?

K: I think he thinks we want prostitutes.

M: What?

K: Yeah, I'm pretty sure 'chicken wing' is slang for prostitutes.

(At this point we all start howling with laughter. Things were starting to make sense, after all).

K: Uncle, we don't want prostitutes, we want chicken wings.

Driver: I know! I know! I take you there! No worry! AH AH AH AH AH AH!

Me: We're not looking for prostitutes, uncle. We want chicken wings. You know, the ones you eat?

Driver: AH AH AH AH AH AH!

M: That was a bad example.

Me: I can see that.

(In the meantime, K had managed to get the number of the restaurant to get some directions. He passed the phone to the driver so that the person on the other end could guide him.)

Driver: Yes, yes? Where I meet you, lah? Eh? Three. Eh? What, lah? Airport? No, no. I know better place. I meet you there. Three people. How much you want? Eh? No, no, I don't know. I know better place. We meet there.

(This went on for a few more minutes before the driver finally understood to whom he was speaking and why. Now that the driver had the directions and knew we weren't searching for a brothel, we were finally on our way. But by this point, the three of us in the back were in stomach-wrenching hysterics and incapable of keeping it together. We couldn't resist the opportunity to take this further):

K: So uncle, have you ever had some good chicken wings?

Driver: Oh me? AH AH AH AH AH AH! No, no! Never!

M: Oh come on, you must like a good chicken wing once and awhile! I bet you love those spicy Thai wings!

Driver: AH AH AH AH AH AH! No, not for me! AH AH AH AH!

K: How about those Indian spice wings. You must have tried the Indian spice.

Driver: NO! ME LOCAL CHINESE!

(We drove the rest of the way in silence.)


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