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Sum's Kitchen (深记): Is This the Best Roast Duck in the North?

Writer's picture: Marcus Yong Ming NgMarcus Yong Ming Ng


Unless you live in the vicinity, there's usually little reason for you to visit the narrow streets of Jalan Legundi. Even after Canberra Station had opened, this area is still regarded as ulu by Northies' (is Northies really a word?) standards, since it's still a few bus rides away from the closest MRT. Foodies are probably the only people determined (or foolhardy) enough to trudge through the long trips and terrible parking since it houses some of the best eats in the North. While most food-lovers are making a pilgrimage to the OG Sembawang White Bee Hoon when they visit, there remains a sumptuous array of restaurants worth visiting, chief of which being Sum's Kitchen.


Sum's Kitchen, or 深记, specialises in Cantonese cuisine, which you can probably surmise from the plump roasted ducks that are flaunted in a conspicuous corner of their restaurant. This is their famous roast duck station, which is embodied by a flurry of furious motions, as a pair of tireless hands slices, chops, and cleaves through a line of roasted ducks. Nearly every customer that walks through Sum's doors only leave after they have ordered their prized ganders, which, I have to admit, are pretty damn shiok.


For me, the zenith of roast duck mastery remains Restoran Ya Wang. What those seasoned masters from Johor Bahru can do to a duck with just an oven and a handful of spices is nothing short of magical. While I can't really wax as lyrical about Sum's roast duck, I have to admit that they serve one of the better roast ducks I have tasted in Singapore.


Although I felt that they might have been rather heavy-handed with the seasoning, I have nothing but praise for how impeccably they have roasted their ducks. When a duck is roasted as well as theirs, the skin -- not the meat -- becomes the true prized cut. Yes, the duck meat is so well-cooked that it peels off the bone. Yes, you barely need to exert any effort into splintering the meat into oily and tender sinews. But the meat still lacks that sense of absolute decadence which their skin simply boasts. All of the duck's fats have melted and oozed into these crisp, paper-thin wafers, waiting to flood your unsuspecting taste buds at the beckoning of your teeth's crackle and crunch. It's pure sinfulness, blissful sinfulness.


Damn, gymming really can start tomorrow.



By the time my family had demolished this sumptuous duck, their crispy beancurd was already served up in a jiffy. Honestly, I was expecting the typical fried tofu to be served, so the crisp, battered cubes that popped onto my table definitely took me by surprise. To prepare this dish, the beancurd is first meshed into a gruel-like consistency before being stuffed with various diced ingredients. This mixture is then carefully moulded into cubes before being coated in an airy batter to prepare for its baptism in oil. Sink your teeth into these fried cubes and you can slowly appreciate the thought behind them, as every bite begins with a crunch, but flattens out into a crumble-- all while the jolting sweetness of the lap cheong seeps into your tongue.



With the beancurd swiftly dispatched into our tummies, the only dish left standing was their Steamed Fish Head with Black Paste. A classic of any Cantonese restaurant, this old-school dish reveals the extent to which the chef cares about their ingredients. Choose a cut that's anything but fresh and the fish will reek of a pungent fishiness which any mound of black bean paste barely disguises; be uncompromising about the freshness of your fish, however, and you will be rewarded with a sumptuous cut that is accentuated by earthy undertones and sings with its luscious flavours.


If you are unfamiliar with Song fish head, let me let you in on a secret - the 'ribeye' of the fish head lies under its cheeks, where you can unearth a gelatinous blob of fat. Yes, this 'cut' does look disgustingly unctuous, but it's also an unassuming minefield of butteriness. Simply gleam off a wedge of the fat and it will open the doors to a dizzying burst of creamy flavours. It's so creamy, so oily, and so sinful that you instinctively feel the urge to spit it out -- only to find that your lips are sealed shut, as your mouth resists, fighting to savour every trace of this glorious cut.


When it comes to food, the North is still the runt of the family, as people usually don't go out of their way for a meal there. Places such as Sum's Restaurant are working to change this narrative, providing a solid reason to visit the ulu area of Canberra. If you seriously love roast ducks, make sure to drop the restaurant a call and make your reservation (walk-ins are almost impossible on the weekends). You won't regret it.


Address: 3 Jalan Legundi, Singapore 759266 Opening Hours: Wed-Mon 12pm to 2:30pm, 5pm to 9:30pm

Expected damages: Between $15 to $25

Rating: 4.1/5

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