Meal Ticket

I've rolled in to and pulled out of many train stations in this lifetime, from subway stops in New York City to a frozen outpost somewhere on the Russian/Latvian border. With train stations - little dots on the human atlas of moving from one place to another, transitioning from one adventure to another, hoboing from one vagary to another, escaping from one life to another - comes food, usually on the go, grabbed while you're on your toes.

If you didn't get a chance to eat your Wheaties at home, chances are you could grab a doughnut, croissant, dumpling, fritter or cruller at the train station, depending on which part of the world you're at. You can have your latke and make the train, too. At Chicago's Fullerton L stop, once there was Demon Dogs, where three bucks and a quarter got you a Chicago-style and an orange juice, the breakfast of champions. At ramshackle stops in Thailand, I've bought bananas and sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves through grimy half-shuttered windows from a basket on a woman's head. In Milan, I fought through cigarette smoke nudging in every direction to a snack stand, only to discover that it was either espresso or cappuccino - my welcome to Italy moment was that tea isn't readily available in the Boot. And at Brussels' Midi station and Eurostar terminal, you can even get your food like this:

A supermarket in a vending machine - you can also get cheese platters, gourmet chocolate and Flemish stew dinners.

In Tokyo, with ramen stands and all kinds of snack kiosks stacked up under and around train stations, you will stop for food:

 In a city of superlatives, Ueno might just be the most over-the-top food stop.

For some people, lifting a fork to the mouth, inserting whatever's on it (does it matter?), masticating, then shoving it all down like the esophagus was a rubbish chute is just a means to an end - sustenance, eating to live. It's about getting there, to that full stop in your gut, the depository depot. For others, it's about the journey.

Here's our trip through Tanjong Pagar Railway Station, a palatial platform to some of the best Malay and Indian street food in Singapore, where delicious degustation is the destination. You don't come here just to catch a train; you come here to grab a bite. Oh, who are we kidding - you come here to buy a one-way ticket to epicurean heaven, that station to which everyone aspires, and go chugga-chugga-chow-chow.

 Don't bother keeping track of how much you've eaten.

Chapati with kheema, a minced lamb curry with potatoes and peas.

Indian rojak, a cornucopia of you-pick-em fritters chopped and served with a sweet, red gravy. You might want to avoid those green jalapenos if your stomach isn't feeling too hot.

Baseball soto - a baseball-sized perkedel (Indonesian-style potato croquette) doused in a spiced chicken broth.

Mee siam, rice vermicelli in a sweet, spicy gravy with tau pok (deep-fried tofu), a hard-boiled egg, sprouts of lots of green onions.

 Conductors of chapatis.