Fei Fei Roasted Noodle Arrives at Eastpoint Mall’s Hawkers’ Street

After decades in the West, including a long-standing home at Yuhua Village Market and Food Centre, Fei Fei Roasted Noodle has opened its first East-side outlet at the newly launched Hawkers’ Street food court.

From Shipyard to Char Siew

Fei Fei’s story began in the 1990s, when founder Tommy—once a shipyard worker—left behind hardhat and steel for cleaver and wok. With no formal culinary training but a natural flair for roasting meats, he started his first stall in Redhill, before relocating to Ghim Moh and eventually Yuhua. There, he built a loyal following through sheer grit and his now-iconic char siew, roasted over traditional charcoal fire for hours to develop that elusive balance of smoky aroma, sweet glaze, and tender bite.

Tommy had hoped his children would one day inherit the business, but hawker life was never easy. The long hours, the manual labour, the unforgiving heat. He didn’t want to impose that burden—especially not on his daughter. But when he developed a debilitating ankle condition that required surgery, someone had to take over. The task fell to his son Wei Jie, who was then working in events and contemplating university.

Tommy handed his son a set of vague instructions and stepped back. It wasn’t the smoothest transition. Wei Jie’s “training” lasted a week. He cut his finger so badly that a chunk of flesh came off. But he persisted. Not just because he didn’t want to see his father’s stall shutter. But because, over time, he fell in love with the hawker life—the sweat, the rhythm, the quiet camaraderie of stall owners who’d bring him food when he was too busy to eat. And above all, the customers—some of whom now claim they can’t tell the difference between his roast meats and his father’s. Some even say it’s better.

Char Siew Worth Crossing the Island For

On a recent visit to the new Eastpoint outlet, I tried the signature wanton mee, a dish simple in appearance but unforgiving in execution. The noodles were Hong Kong-style egg noodles, cooked al dente with just the right amount of bite—bouncy, toothsome, and without the slightest hint of alkaline aftertaste. Dressed in a light but flavourful sauce, they provided the perfect base for the slices of char siew.

Now, here’s the thing. At Yuhua, the char siew is charcoal-roasted, giving it that deep, unmistakable smoky finish. At Eastpoint, the meats are roasted via conventional ovens, due to mall restrictions. And yet, the char siew still shines. Caramelised at the edges, with a lovely ratio of lean to fat and a slight crisp char, it retains that trademark Fei Fei sweetness—never cloying, always balanced.

On the side, I had a bowl of dumpling soup—a sleeper hit on the menu. The dumplings are plump, juicy, and thoughtfully made, with fillings of prawn, minced pork, and black fungus. The skin was thin and silky, holding together without falling apart in the broth, which was clean-tasting and comforting.

You’ll also find roast duck rice and crispy roast pork rice here—both solid options. The duck is tender with flavourful skin, and the roast pork crackles delightfully between the teeth, giving way to juicy, well-seasoned meat beneath. These aren’t just add-ons to pad the menu. They hold their own, and more importantly, they travel well if you’re dabao-ing for the family.

What’s in a Name?

“Fei Fei” (肥肥) was Tommy’s affectionate nickname, a reference to his cheerful, round frame. He liked how playful and easy it was to remember—“the kind of name a kid could shout in a food court: I want Fei Fei Roasted Noodle for lunch!”

That unpretentious, full of heart—is exactly what the food still captures today. If you’re in the East, go. If you’re not, it’s worth the trip.