The sky had been grey since lunch, the kind that makes Singapore look softer around the edges. By evening, the rain had settled into a steady fall, and none of my friends and I seemed interested in going anywhere quickly.
So after a few of my animated explanation about a spot I know we could visit, I brought them to KPO Café Bar. We placed our umbrellas by the door and ordered without much discussion. A plate of fried chicken, something grilled, vegetables for balance, and another dish someone insisted we needed. Shared meals often begin this way.
It was pretty funny looking back. We just immediately moved the food around the table for others to try. Then before I knew it glasses were refilled, and the conversation wandered from work to family to things we had avoided saying for months. Sometimes a shared dish gives people somewhere to look when honesty enters the conversation.
That may be why this way of eating feels so warm and natural in Singapore. Sharing is not only practical. It tells us that the meal belongs to everyone.
Outside, traffic continued through the rain. Inside, the last pieces disappeared unevenly. Someone took the final wing (that was me). Someone else scraped up the remaining sauce.
I remember less about who ordered what than how the table made room for all of us. Under grey skies, with plates passed from hand to hand, conversation felt easier. Perhaps closeness is sometimes built exactly like dinner: one contribution at a time, with everyone reaching toward the centre.
That evening stayed with me for more reasons than the food, but click here to read my full review on what first drew me to KPO Café Bar.
