It goes without saying that when a restaurant says they don’t take reservations, you need to go early. Or so I thought. Going early just meant that there weren’t that many people standing in line, though on this occasion, I had the game of numbers on my side – I was without company. A lone diner, a solitary companion, who moved past the disgruntled group of 4 who were told to come back in 2 hours and swiftly to a tiny corner of standing space at the bar, feeling smug, hungry and a little bit excited. This was a day of Asian food nirvana, a day when my endorphins and all other feel food factors were firing on all cylinders, but just how good was Red Farm going to be after a lunch at Fatty Crab? Would the food make up for the discomfort of having to stand for the entire meal, staring at a wooden beam, waiters rushing by, occasionally bumping into you.. well, the good thing about Red Farm is that you could have been made to stand and eat with your plate in your hand and your glass balanced precariously on your head, and you’d still run out of the front door shouting at people to queue up as quickly as they could and wait for 4 hours to get a table.