A Festival of Fire and Fragrance

Stepping into SO DO FUN during the Chinese New Year period feels like crossing the threshold into Chengdu itself—the air thick with the promise of málà (麻辣), that distinctive numbing-spicy sensation that defines authentic Sichuan cuisine. Under the guidance of Master Chef Peng Zi Yu, who famously mentored Nicholas Tse in the intricacies of this bold regional cooking, the restaurant presents a festive menu that balances tradition with contemporary refinement.

Prosperity Abalone Yu Sheng: A Sweet Beginning (3/5)

The meal commenced with the Prosperity Abalone Yu Sheng, presented in the large format ($56.80). Visually, it arrived as a vibrant mandala of textures and colours—julienned vegetables in precise, matchstick cuts created bands of vivid green from cucumber, pale ivory from daikon, brilliant orange from carrot. The abalone slices, a lustrous pearl-grey, were arranged with deliberate artistry across the top.

The tossing ritual revealed the sauce’s character: notably sweet, almost candy-like in its sugariness, with the five-spice and plum notes prominent but the citrus undertones somewhat muted. The abalone itself provided a pleasant chew—not rubbery, but with that characteristic resilient texture that speaks to proper preparation. However, the sweetness of the sauce dominated the palate, overwhelming the more delicate brininess of the seafood. For those accustomed to the more balanced, complex yu sheng sauces found elsewhere, this version might feel one-dimensional, its saccharine notes lingering perhaps a touch too long.

Scallops Mapo Tofu: An Elegant Reinterpretation (4.2/5)

The Scallops Mapo Tofu arrived in a traditional claypot, still bubbling gently, releasing clouds of steam redolent with doubanjiang (broad bean chili paste), Sichuan peppercorns, and the unmistakable fragrance of fermented black beans. This dish represents a thoughtful evolution of their signature Chengdu Mapo Tofu.

The tofu itself—crucially—was the firmer, more structured variety, not the silken type that can disintegrate into the sauce. Each cube, roughly two centimeters square, maintained its architectural integrity while absorbing the complex flavours of the sauce. The exterior had taken on a burnished russet hue from the chili oil, while cross-sections revealed the pristine white interior, creating a beautiful contrast.

The scallops—plump, ivory-white specimens—introduced a subtle marine sweetness that brightened the dish’s fundamental earthiness. When bitten into, they released a gentle brine that cut through the robust, fatty richness of the minced pork and fermented bean paste. The texture was tender, though not quite at the peak of freshness one might hope for at this price point; there was a very slight rubberiness that suggested they could have been more recently shucked.

The sauce itself was masterfully balanced: the málà sensation built gradually, first the numbing tingle of Sichuan peppercorns coating the lips and tongue, then the delayed burn of dried chilies awakening the palate. The oil slick floating atop—a brilliant vermillion studded with darker crimson chili flakes—wasn’t merely decorative but integral, carrying fat-soluble flavour compounds that made each spoonful progressively more addictive.

However, the portion of scallops felt somewhat restrained. In a dish priced as a premium offering, one expects a more generous distribution of the namesake ingredient. The tofu-to-scallop ratio leaned heavily toward the former, making the seafood feel more like an accent than a co-star.

Boiled Fresh Fish in Spicy Broth: The Triumph of Authenticity (4.5/5)

This dish—the reviewer’s declared favourite and rightfully so—exemplifies why SO DO FUN commands respect in Singapore’s competitive Sichuan dining landscape. Ordered in the large format ($49.80), it arrived as a dramatic centrepiece: a vast bowl, easily thirty centimeters across, filled to near-overflowing with an aggressively aromatic broth.

The visual presentation alone tells a story: the surface is almost entirely obscured by a thick layer of dried red chilies—hundreds of them, their wrinkled skins a deep burgundy—and Sichuan peppercorns, their husks split to reveal the darker seeds within. Beneath this fiery blanket, one glimpses the pale flesh of fish slices, the translucent sheets of beancurd skin, the jade-green of cucumber, the ivory of bean sprouts, and the dark, glossy ribbons of kelp.

The broth itself is a marvel of layered complexity. The base appears to be a robust stock—likely chicken or pork—fortified with aromatics: ginger, scallion, garlic. The heat is multidimensional: the initial impact comes from the visible chilies, but it’s the Sichuan peppercorns that define the experience, creating that distinctive má (numbing) sensation that starts at the lips and spreads across the entire oral cavity. It’s not merely “hot” in the Western sense; it’s a tingling, almost electric sensation that paradoxically makes you want to continue eating despite the intensity.

The fish—likely seabass or similar white-fleshed variety—has been sliced thinly, approximately half a centimeter thick, allowing it to poach quickly in the broth without overcooking. The result is flesh that flakes at the gentlest pressure from chopsticks, opaque white with a silken, almost custard-like texture. There’s remarkable generosity here; the large portion contained easily 300-400 grams of fish, making it genuinely suitable for sharing.

Supporting players each contribute essential textural and flavour notes: the beancurd skin (yuba) provides substantial chew and acts as a sponge for the broth; cucumber offers cooling crispness that provides respite from the heat; bean sprouts contribute a delicate crunch; and the kelp brings a subtle umami depth and slippery, satisfying mouthfeel.

The genius of this dish lies in its balance—despite the visual aggression of those chilies, the heat builds but never becomes punishing. The broth invites you to sip it directly, to let that complex interplay of spice, numbing sensation, and savoury depth coat your palate entirely.

Chilled Spicy Chicken: Promising but Problematic (3.8/5)

The Chilled Spicy Chicken arrived as a striking composition: glistening chicken pieces, bone-in and skin-on, cut into approximately three-centimeter chunks, coated in a glossy, rust-coloured chili oil suspension. Garnished with toasted sesame seeds and thinly sliced scallions, it presented beautifully—the colours ranging from mahogany where the skin had absorbed the chili oil to paler amber on exposed meat surfaces.

The chicken itself showed improvement from the reviewer’s previous visit. The meat was notably more tender, pulling cleanly from the bone with minimal resistance. The texture was juicy rather than dry, suggesting proper poaching technique—likely a brief immersion in just-below-boiling water, then immediate shocking in ice water to preserve moisture and create that characteristic bouncy texture (dàn xìng) prized in Chinese poultry preparations.

The chili oil coating provided excellent aromatics: toasted sesame, star anise, cassia, and that ever-present Sichuan pepper. However, the sodium content proved overwhelming. The saltiness hit immediately and lingered persistently, masking the more subtle spice notes and the natural chicken flavour. Even when paired with the House Special Fried Rice (designed to be a salt-balancing accompaniment), the dish remained aggressively saline.

This represents a crucial misstep in seasoning calibration. In Sichuan cuisine, salt should enhance and amplify, not dominate. The málà sensation, the fragrant oil, the tender chicken—all these elements were present but obscured behind an impenetrable wall of sodium.

House Special Fried Rice: The Understated Excellence (4/5)

Arriving in a generous portion, the House Special Fried Rice demonstrated the kind of technical proficiency that separates competent from excellent wok cooking. Each grain stood distinct—a sign of proper day-old rice that has dried slightly, allowing it to fry without clumping—yet the overall texture remained tender, not hard or dried out.

The colour was subtle: a gentle golden hue from the egg, with darker amber flecks where the rice had achieved wok hei (that coveted “breath of the wok” smokiness from high-heat cooking against seasoned carbon steel). The aroma, encountered while the dish was still hot, revealed its secret: rendered lard. This traditional fat—increasingly rare in contemporary Chinese restaurants—provided an incomparable fragrance, simultaneously rich and clean, coating each grain with luxurious mouthfeel.

The inclusions were restrained: small dice of char siu (Chinese BBQ pork) providing concentrated savoury-sweet notes, scrambled egg adding softness and binding, and finely minced scallions contributing aromatic freshness. Nothing competed for attention; this was rice elevated through technique rather than loaded with ingredients.

Functionally, it performed beautifully alongside both the Scallops Mapo Tofu and the Boiled Fresh Fish in Spicy Broth. The mild, slightly fatty profile of the rice provided essential relief from the intensity of the spiced dishes, while its own subtle richness prevented it from being merely a neutral filler. When a spoonful of rice was taken after several bites of the fish in spicy broth, it felt almost medicinal—soothing the tingling palate while absorbing residual chili oil.

Final Assessment

SO DO FUN’s Chinese New Year offerings reveal a kitchen with genuine Sichuan credentials, helmed by a chef who understands the cuisine’s fundamental principles: bold heat balanced with complex aromatics, textures ranging from silken to crispy, and flavours that build rather than assault.

The Boiled Fresh Fish in Spicy Broth stands as a benchmark—authentic, generous, and expertly executed. The Scallops Mapo Tofu shows innovation while respecting tradition, though it needs a more confident hand with the scallop portions. The House Special Fried Rice demonstrates mastery of fundamentals.

However, seasoning inconsistencies—the excessive sweetness in the Yu Sheng, the aggressive saltiness in the Chilled Spicy Chicken—suggest quality control challenges across the festive menu. These are correctable issues but meaningful ones for diners investing in the higher-tier Abundance Set Menu.

For those seeking authentic Sichuan flavours during this festive period, SO DO FUN merits consideration, particularly if you build your meal around the kitchen’s strengths: the fish in spicy broth, the reimagined mapo tofu, and the impeccably fried rice. Navigate carefully around the saltier preparations, and you’ll find yourself transported to the spice-laden streets of Chengdu—málà and all.