“Pao” means “to submerge” and “fan” refers to rice in mandarin. It's a Teochew dish of cooked rice served in a broth. The key difference between porridge and pao fan is: porridges are rice grains simmered in a liquid until a soft, watery consistency is achieved; while in pao fan, the rice grains are steamed as per the usual rice you eat, then drenched in broth to serve. The traditional Chinese dish can be found from Shanghai to Hong Kong with slight variations. In the Cantonese restaurants of Hong Kong and Macau, you’re likely to find it served with a rich lobster broth (which you can also find at Summer Pavilion restaurant in Ritz-Carlton Millenia Singapore); while in Shanghai it's largely eaten as a home-style dish, with a vegetable broth. The Teochew style pao fan is known for its light broth (usually seafood based) and is what the offerings at Chao Ting are inspired by.

Chao Ting says its rendition of the classic Teochew pao fan is one that is “presented with a touch of modernity and luxe”. The luxe element is apparent: unlike the usual fish soup base used in Teochew-style pao fan (such as the version here), served with pomfret slices and a fish stock broth — this incorporates pork, chicken and fish bones, and whole prawns. Whoa. The recipe apparently took the chefs of the Jumbo group some four months to perfect — they had previously tried using just plain fish stock but found it too light, and had also experimented with upping the ratio of the prawns but found it too overwhelmingly rich.

The ingredients for the broth are boiled over five hours to achieve an attractive orange-hued soup. And while the Jumbo group has a central kitchen where most things are prepared, this broth is actually made fresh daily, onsite. Which means that some poor guy has to start cooking at about 6am each morning for the stall to start doling out the bowls by 11.30am.

This broth is the backbone of the offerings at Chao Ting, which has a very compact menu of just three pao fans (big prawn, sliced fish, fried fish) — each with the same broth but with different toppings; and a side dish of crispy eel skin. The crowds here don’t seem to mind the small selection though: when we visited at noon on a Tuesday, there was already a snaking queue in front of the stall. The customers all look like office workers from the area, and while a few of them dined at the tables set out at the sheltered air-conditioned area in front of the stall, we saw quite a number cart back big tapow orders.

The eatery is situated along one of the covered promenades within Far East Square. It's essentially a kiosk with chairs and tables placed in front of it — kinda like a very atas hawker stall. The sheltered dining area accommodates around 80 people.

Thankfully, it’s a fast-moving queue. The average waiting time from queueing in line to getting your food is about 15 minutes. The stall is manned by three people who work pretty seamlessly: while one takes orders, the other two give the cooked rice and raw prawns or fish slices a quick boil in the prawn broth before proceeding to assemble the bowl which comes with fried egg floss and a side serving of crispy rice pops. Order, get yourself a buzzer, and collect your food when it buzzes. You can also help yourself to the condiments like chilli padi in soy sauce, and garnishes like fresh coriander.

There was such a steady stream of customers at Chao Ting that by the time we were with our photo shoot around 1pm and were ready to eat, the Fried Fish Pao Fan ($9) was sold out. Hmph. A shame, as the golden-brown dory pieces looked nicely thick-cut and fleshy, unlike the thin, rubbery, fried-to-death fried fish found at some fish soup hawker stalls. Well, clearly the customers here know a good thing when they see one. According to Chao Ting’s PR rep, the most they’ve sold in a day is 130 bowls — and that’s all within the 3.5 hours that they are open. Why only open a miserable 3.5 hours? “We are very humbled by the overwhelming response so far and will definitely consider extending our operating hours should there be a demand from our customers. Jumbo is also always on the lookout for other suitable locations to bring our concepts closer to everyone,” says the PR rep politely. 

This offers a nice middle ground between the light homestyle Teochew pao fan, and the pricey lobster-broth variety served at fine Cantonese restaurants. The broth resembles a cross between an angmoh prawn bisque and Chinese prawn noodle soup, and offers the best of both. Delightfully sweet from the use of whole prawns, its flavours are rounded by a tonkotsu-like creaminess achieved through cooking down the pork and chicken bones. The four large slices of batang (mackerel) that comes with each serving are fresh and firm, and did not leave us feeling unsatiated. We only wish that new grains (fresh grains harvested early in the season which tend to have a higher moisture content and are thus plumper and chewier, with a texture akin to Japanese short-grain rice) were used instead of run-of-the-mill Jasmine rice, so that they can add more texture to the dish. Currently, the rice grains are a little soft and lacking in chew.

The same soup, the same rice, but topped with two halves of a King prawn. Granted the crustacean was super fresh and meaty, and prawns are pricey (on our last check with Ah Hua Kelong, 1kg of their regular fresh frozen prawns cost $30). However, at $11, it just feels a little sad to be eating a bowl of rice with soup and… one prawn. Thankfully each bowl also comes with crispy rice pops, essentially grains deep-fried to a crisp. Plus a good hunk of egg floss made by deep-frying beaten eggs poured through a sieve so that they form a tangled mass of “floss” (which, though a little greasy, is well seasoned and tasty). All these frills add depth and dimension to the simple dish.

You can pile on toppings of prawns ($5 per portion), sliced fish ($3), fried fish ($3) and even egg floss ($1). The not-too-salty Fried Fish Skin ($3), which comes in a little paper bag, also makes a nice side dish to either munch on its own or eat with the soupy rice.

While we wouldn’t call this the best seafood soup we’ve ever had, the broth quite surpassed our expectations. Its punchy-yet-balanced umami flavours makes the pao fan rather addictive, and we can see why it’s popular with the cubicle rats here. It makes a very comforting midday meal when one is stuck in a cold office. Pity Chao Ting doesn't open for dinner, or on weekends.

Chao Ting is at 132 Amoy St, S049961 (located within Far East Square). Open Mon to Fri only at 11.30am – 3pm (last orders at closing, or until sold out). www.chaoting.zui-teochewcuisine.com/en/home

PHOTOS: Mark Lee/8 DAYS