Hwa Heng Beef Noodles 華興牛肉粉 — A 3rd-Gen Legacy Now at Upper Boon Keng

If you grew up hearing about “Odeon beef noodles”, this is the lineage.

Hwa Heng Beef Noodles (華興牛肉粉) has roots going all the way back to 1948, when Mdm Lee Suan Liang — who came from Hainan Island — started selling beef noodles from a pushcart along Cashin Street and Bain Street. When Odeon Cinema opened in 1953, her stall became known as “Odeon beef noodle.” Later, she moved into Wah Hing Coffee Shop opposite the cinema, and the name Hwa Heng stuck.

Fast forward to today, and the stall at Upper Boon Keng Market & Food Centre is run by her granddaughter, Kiang Hui Ling. The stall relocated here from Bendemeer in November 2025. Other branches linked to the family name have expanded into franchise operations locally and overseas, but this Upper Boon Keng outlet operates on its own.

To avoid the crowd, I reached the food centre at 9am — a full hour before opening. The stallholders were still prepping, but by then, we were already second in line. By 10am, the queue had quietly formed behind us. Some traditions are worth waking up early for.

When my bowl of mixed beef noodles arrived ($6.50), the first thing that caught my eye was that thick, glossy sauce blanketing everything beneath. Hidden under that dark, gooey layer were rice vermicelli, slices of beef, tendon, tripe, beef balls, chopped parsley and a heap of blanched bean sprouts. Give it a proper toss — don’t be shy.

The sauce clings lovingly to every strand of noodle. I really like the texture of their noodles — smooth, slightly slick, soft yet still holding shape. It’s the kind of comforting bite I personally enjoy.

The sauce itself leans mildly savoury, with a gentle sweetness and faint hints of Chinese five-spice. For the mixed beef noodles, you get lean beef slices, tender tripe, soft beef balls, and what I personally look forward to most — the tendon. Spongy, gelatinous, and cooked until yielding without falling apart.

The beef wasn’t gamey or overly “beefy.” Just clean-tasting and tender. And then there’s the cincalok. Mildly salty with a subtle fermented depth, it lifts the flavours without overwhelming the bowl. Dip your beef in, and it adds a small but noticeable punch.

If you’re a fan of thick, saucy Hainanese-style beef noodles, this is one to check out.

If you’re heading down, go early.