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SINGAPORE: Back in the glory days of the Y2K era, a night out did not end when the club lights came on. After hours of dancing at Zouk or The Butter Factory, we would pile into taxis, mascara smudged and heels dangling off fingers, ravenous for a greasy, comforting end to the night.
Supper was a post-party non-negotiable. Some nights it was mee goreng and teh c peng at Spize. Other times, we would nurse our buzz over silky bak chor mee sua at that always-packed kopitiam along Circular Road, or head to Boon Tong Kee for plates of chicken rice doused with minced ginger and garlic chilli.
For something communal, we would roll into a late-night Korean barbecue joint in Tanjong Pagar and eat like the marathon dancers that we were.
In hindsight, I realise many of us enjoyed supper not just for the food but also because it was a form of social glue. It was a chance to stretch out a great night just a little longer, rehash the drama, share inside jokes and laugh our way into dawn.
Even friends who did not club would eagerly join late-night makan sessions across the island, rallying the troops with a single message: “Supper?”
These days, if I happen to be out late (itself a rarity), the streets feel strangely subdued. The queues have shortened, many haunts have reduced hours and some have disappeared altogether.
For example, Haidilao will close its outlet at Clarke Quay, which for 13 years was a popular supper spot for clubbers. at Bukit Merah View Hawker Centre, a local gem that only opened after midnight, has shuttered for good.
I recently wandered around my HDB estate at about 10pm seeking a late dinner after I lost track of time while working from home. To my surprise and dismay, the options were limited, with an overload of heavy fare like barbecued chicken wings and deep-fried snacks. It did not feel particularly appealing, making me wonder if we have lost out on variety because of the challenges that the industry has been facing in the post-pandemic years.
Supper spots, long operating on thin margins like the rest of Singapore’s food and beverage industry, have struggled with . Food delivery apps have stepped into the void, making it far more common to end the night with McDonald’s delivery than with a plethora of local eats at a crowded kopitiam.
This week, a year-long trial to extend trading hours to 4am for liquor licensees in Boat Quay, Upper Circular Road and Clarke Quay will kick in. It is possible that these extended hours may have a spillover effect, boosting demand for supper spots, especially those in the vicinity.
However, we no longer go out like we used to. Clubbing has lost its sparkle for us ageing millennials who now prefer a quiet drink over loud music. And Gen Z, it seems, is less into nightlife. The younger generation has never really been into drinking alcohol and they have popularised alternatives like afternoon raves, coffee-fuelled DJ sets, and pet-friendly parties that wrap by 11pm.
Even among millennials, our idea of a good time has evolved now that we are past the salad days of youth. These days, we are more likely to wake up at dawn for Hyrox training or squeeze in an ice bath before work than dance through the night. It is no wonder a soothing eye mask and an early bedtime has replaced the sweaty exhilaration of the dance floor.
Layer on the realities of remote work, the inertia of staying in and the wallet-draining surge pricing on ride-hailing apps and it is easy to see why suppers no longer hold the same allure. Plus, social spontaneity has waned too. These days, if a gathering is not scheduled on Google Calendar a month in advance, it is probably not happening.
Of course, supper is still well and alive for some. For instance, chef Kirk Westaway of Jaan says his team often tucks into hawker suppers after their service. Another local stalwart Keng Eng Kee Seafood at Alexandra Village is a go-to for food industry insiders and chefs seeking a hearty meal at night. For those who know where to look, strata malls like Orchard Plaza are a treasure trove of lesser-known supper joints.
But for those who came of age during the pandemic, socialising has migrated to digital platforms like Discord, where even strangers living in different countries can bond. For them, hanging out does not require being in the same physical space - much less huddling over bowls of piping hot noodles at 2am.
So, more than just losing supper joints, we are also losing one of the last, quirky vestiges of analogue connection that asked for no reservations, had no agenda and carried none of the performative flair of high-end dining. Supper made the wee hours come alive and united people who love unassuming, delicious food.
Sure, my cholesterol levels are probably in a better place now that I no longer eat heavy meals regularly in the middle of the night. But even as I swap supper for self-care, I cannot help but feel a sense of nostalgia for those halcyon days of indulging in freewheeling, unscheduled late-night chow.
Maybe I do not really need to eat supper anymore. But I would still trade a thousand Deliveroo orders for one joyful, unplanned 2am prata session with friends.
Karen Tee is a freelance lifestyle and travel journalist based in Singapore.
Source: CNA/el
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FAST
SINGAPORE: Back in the glory days of the Y2K era, a night out did not end when the club lights came on. After hours of dancing at Zouk or The Butter Factory, we would pile into taxis, mascara smudged and heels dangling off fingers, ravenous for a greasy, comforting end to the night.
Supper was a post-party non-negotiable. Some nights it was mee goreng and teh c peng at Spize. Other times, we would nurse our buzz over silky bak chor mee sua at that always-packed kopitiam along Circular Road, or head to Boon Tong Kee for plates of chicken rice doused with minced ginger and garlic chilli.
For something communal, we would roll into a late-night Korean barbecue joint in Tanjong Pagar and eat like the marathon dancers that we were.
In hindsight, I realise many of us enjoyed supper not just for the food but also because it was a form of social glue. It was a chance to stretch out a great night just a little longer, rehash the drama, share inside jokes and laugh our way into dawn.
Even friends who did not club would eagerly join late-night makan sessions across the island, rallying the troops with a single message: “Supper?”
GONE ARE THE DAYS
These days, if I happen to be out late (itself a rarity), the streets feel strangely subdued. The queues have shortened, many haunts have reduced hours and some have disappeared altogether.
For example, Haidilao will close its outlet at Clarke Quay, which for 13 years was a popular supper spot for clubbers. at Bukit Merah View Hawker Centre, a local gem that only opened after midnight, has shuttered for good.
I recently wandered around my HDB estate at about 10pm seeking a late dinner after I lost track of time while working from home. To my surprise and dismay, the options were limited, with an overload of heavy fare like barbecued chicken wings and deep-fried snacks. It did not feel particularly appealing, making me wonder if we have lost out on variety because of the challenges that the industry has been facing in the post-pandemic years.
Supper spots, long operating on thin margins like the rest of Singapore’s food and beverage industry, have struggled with . Food delivery apps have stepped into the void, making it far more common to end the night with McDonald’s delivery than with a plethora of local eats at a crowded kopitiam.
This week, a year-long trial to extend trading hours to 4am for liquor licensees in Boat Quay, Upper Circular Road and Clarke Quay will kick in. It is possible that these extended hours may have a spillover effect, boosting demand for supper spots, especially those in the vicinity.
However, we no longer go out like we used to. Clubbing has lost its sparkle for us ageing millennials who now prefer a quiet drink over loud music. And Gen Z, it seems, is less into nightlife. The younger generation has never really been into drinking alcohol and they have popularised alternatives like afternoon raves, coffee-fuelled DJ sets, and pet-friendly parties that wrap by 11pm.
Even among millennials, our idea of a good time has evolved now that we are past the salad days of youth. These days, we are more likely to wake up at dawn for Hyrox training or squeeze in an ice bath before work than dance through the night. It is no wonder a soothing eye mask and an early bedtime has replaced the sweaty exhilaration of the dance floor.
Layer on the realities of remote work, the inertia of staying in and the wallet-draining surge pricing on ride-hailing apps and it is easy to see why suppers no longer hold the same allure. Plus, social spontaneity has waned too. These days, if a gathering is not scheduled on Google Calendar a month in advance, it is probably not happening.
A LOSS OF CONNECTION
Of course, supper is still well and alive for some. For instance, chef Kirk Westaway of Jaan says his team often tucks into hawker suppers after their service. Another local stalwart Keng Eng Kee Seafood at Alexandra Village is a go-to for food industry insiders and chefs seeking a hearty meal at night. For those who know where to look, strata malls like Orchard Plaza are a treasure trove of lesser-known supper joints.
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But for those who came of age during the pandemic, socialising has migrated to digital platforms like Discord, where even strangers living in different countries can bond. For them, hanging out does not require being in the same physical space - much less huddling over bowls of piping hot noodles at 2am.
So, more than just losing supper joints, we are also losing one of the last, quirky vestiges of analogue connection that asked for no reservations, had no agenda and carried none of the performative flair of high-end dining. Supper made the wee hours come alive and united people who love unassuming, delicious food.
Sure, my cholesterol levels are probably in a better place now that I no longer eat heavy meals regularly in the middle of the night. But even as I swap supper for self-care, I cannot help but feel a sense of nostalgia for those halcyon days of indulging in freewheeling, unscheduled late-night chow.
Maybe I do not really need to eat supper anymore. But I would still trade a thousand Deliveroo orders for one joyful, unplanned 2am prata session with friends.
Karen Tee is a freelance lifestyle and travel journalist based in Singapore.
Source: CNA/el
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