Wagon Wheel

Address 22, Greenwood Ave

Opening Hours 12pm-2.30pm, 6.30pm-9.30pm (mon-fri) Kitchen closed on Saturdays Closed on Sundays and Public Holidays (oxtail stew available only on Wed)

Telephone 64693688

Firstly, he says that it’s a damn tough industry and that the long hours are as real as it gets. The customers can sometimes be fickle and demanding, the business is unpredictable, and that his concept will fade into history very soon, all said, with a resigned yet confident anger. He only gave a wry smile when I reminded him that his oxtail stew has a maximum rating in our food guide. Such controlled grit and pride, I find, beguiling.

It is the same oxtail stew that had been coming out of their weathered and well greased home style kitchen since opening in 1983, with a head chef turnover rate of two, “the first retired” and Mr Yap Boh Keong then uncharacteristically launched into a string of controlled praises for his current chef Jeffrey Han. “The bugger is in his fifties already and everytime the orders pile up,” and Mr Yap yanks a thubs-up in approval,” he delivers” as he face curls into a proud wry expression with a furrowed brow. “Never once did we have any incident since he came on board in the late 80s.” He reveals his management style, “leave them alone, just give back up support.”, because “these Hainanese chefs are very reliable, loyal but damn temperamental”.

Oxtail

Ok, so far, he positions himself as a restaurateur with a little bit of anger and lots of earned pride. He makes no bones about a no-personal-questions stance. Then, after buttering up this soul about the rightful spot he has earned in our makan heritage, he reluctantly softens, “ I got an accountants degree from UK in 1976 and held a respectable white collared job here till 82’and my brother Boh Tiong, runs a communications agency”. The maverick in him itched, so he got off the corporate bus “ blew 120,000 bucks, I know its a lot then but I was no expert, and set up this woody and musky UK style pub, complete with country style window sills and heavy wood door, serving snacks, finger-food and hot meals.” Choosing to set up at the then ulu and unfashionable corner in Greenwood Ave of Bukit Timah was a very simple decision to make as “there was free carpark and the rent was cheap”. I did my sums and fearfully shared with him how another similar set up in town was paying the same rent. Again, he pleaded ignorance. He took over a rice merchant shop and the sleepy shop house row then had only a cake shop, some grocery stalls, a sad Japanese restaurant and launderette. But there was not a blink of regret as business picked up not longer after opening, when a group of foreign off-shore marine engineers discovered the place. They haunted the place regularly, drank the bar dry, kept the stoves burning and “ the friendly spirit was in the air, everybody knew each other and the bartender would serve their usual drink, without asking.!”, as Mr Yap’s expression began to light up the dark, musky and warm pub.

Chicken Cordon Bleu

Ok, now he’s a much happier person. He hollers and the food arrives. The mee goreng($9.50), which uses a pre-made sambal chili paste, chicken cordon bleu ($11.50) which was made earlier and chilled, a claypot beef kway teow ($11.80) and of course the stunning and meltingly soft oxtail stew, which was dished out of a huge pot of simmering thick brown sauce. The greens and the mash with it was just a presentation excuse. I now know why the chicken cordon bleu came superbly bread battered crispy and dry- you have to cut in to the oozing cheese ,held by slices of moist ham inside to max the experience. The claypot beef kway teow was comforting but not remarkable although Mr Yap claims its their best seller and the Hainanese cooks are not known to make great seafood mee goreng although I may be wrong, if you like a dry spicy version. I gush over the oxtail stew and mopped up the sauce with the bread.

Then my attention turns to Tony Tun, the mandarin cowboy bartender replete with a Stetson outback leather hat (the type you see hopping about in the front rows of line dancing practices), same gear he was in since I last saw him in 2002. After probing into his standard answer about him being “just a good bartender”, I realized Mr Yap is pleased that Tony is somewhat of an icon and regulars are comfortable and new customers are curious, with him. And what does Mr Yap do? “Not much, man the cashier, control the supplies and chat with friends who were once customers.”

By now, I know this is a very contented man with a stable business that he chose to dabble in. I did not have the energy to persuade him on the virtues of being photographed for this story and had to settle for the colourful Tony.