Where Would We Be…Without Ellice Handy?

The dining industry, as we know it, has changed beyond all recognition. Today, cooking is an art form and cultural phenomena that has spawned “culinary personalities” and “domestic goddesses” and even sex symbols.

TV channels now devote themselves entirely to food; and food blogs garner followings of millions. People travel the world to eat at famous restaurants and to have their pictures taken with “superstar” chefs. Cooking schools teach to sellout classes and we buy cookbooks just so we can ogle at lavish photographs of food.

In Singapore, chefs like Emmanuel Stroobant, Sam Leong, and Chef Wan are household names on TV and writers of popular cookbooks. Before them, there was Violet Oon, Terry Tan, and Wendy Hutton; and even earlier, Mrs Lee Chin Koon, Mrs Leong Yee Soo, Tham Yui Kai, and Ellice Handy. Ellice who?

Poster girl in the 80s

Ellice Handy is a name all but forgotten today. She was one of the first – if not the first – person in Singapore to write a cookbook under her own name. And, her little book stood as the bible for home cooking in Singapore long before the likes of Mrs Lee and Mrs Leong came along.

There’s not much to be found about her life on the Internet; she was, apparently, the first Asian principal of Methodist Girls’ School in the period after the Second World War. In 1952, to raise funds for school building, she wrote and published the cookbook, My Favourite Recipes by Ellice Handy. (Ellice Handy’s book predated Julia Child’s seminal Mastering the Art of French Cooking, which appeared in 1961, by nine years!)

My Favourite Recipes went into several editions; but sadly, it has been out of print for many years now. As far as I could discover, that was the only book Ellice Handy ever wrote. When I was publisher, I tried to resurrect this historic cookbook, hoping it would find an appreciative audience among the younger generation. We tried to contact her family to seek permission to republish, but were not able to trace any surviving relatives.

1970 Edition of the book

Ellice Handy also contributed recipes to local magazines and appeared in product endorsements in printed advertisements. Seemed she was the Nigella Lawson of her time!

Flipping through the book, with its jotter-like paper and archaic print, you feel as though you’re looking at recipes that have appeared in print for the very first time – and you probably are! “Mee Siam”, “Fish Ball Soup”, “Fried Curry Puffs”…they’re all here, like old familiar friends. Many of the dishes are still with us, while some have vanished; but one gets a sense of the first stirrings of a culinary identity that is, truly, Singaporean.

As she herself was not a trained chef, Ellice Handy’s recipes were simple and straightforward enough to be replicated without much difficulty at home. And, in the unique style of Singaporean society (or government policy? – one wonders), the book features a multi-ethnic roster of Indian, Malay, Chinese, and Eurasian, as well as western, recipes.

So, on our 46^th National Day, I’d like to render a modest tribute to a special lady and her pioneering book, and hope her culinary contribution to posterity would become better known. Here’s the coconut candy I first came to know about from her book. I adored it as a child, especially its “lemak” (Malay for “rich”) caramel taste and texture of grated coconut.

 Coconut Candy

Coconut                      3 cups, grated

Sugar                          2½ cups

Evaporated milk         ¾ cup

Butter                         1 tsp

Salt                             a pinch

Vanilla paste              1 tsp (optional)

Pandan leaves            2 leaves (optional)

Method:

1. Mix all the ingredients and cook under low heat until the sugar has dissolved (if you have added pandan leaves, remove them once the sugar has melted). Stir constantly to prevent from burning, and increase the heat once the sugar has melted.
2. Cook the mixture until it attains a lumpy consistency that doesn’t cling to the side of the pan.
3. Once the mixture begins to caramelize (turn brownish), add vanilla (the original recipe uses vanilla, but if you want a more Asian flavor, you can use pandan leaves instead of vanilla) and stir thoroughly. Do not over-cook or the mixture will harden due to caramelization of sugar. If that happens, just add a bit of evaporated milk to soften the texture again.
4. Pour the candy into a pan that has been lightly greased with butter. Without pressing the candy, use a wooden spoon to spread it out evenly on the pan, leaving a roughly level surface.
5. When it has cooled slightly, cut into pieces with a knife but do not separate the pieces.
6. Once hardened, simply break the candy into pieces with your hand.

Where the Oyster Plant Once Grew

The spot in Chinatown where the Kreta Ayer Theatre stands used to be a grass-covered hilltop with a park. I remember roaming that hilltop to play on its swings and seesaw, hunt grasshoppers, and scrounge for earthworms – there was so much for a 6-year-old to do in that little park! The time was the 1960s.

Also on the hill was a community center that housed one of the few televisions in the neighborhood; the young and old were drawn to that TV like moths to a flame every night. There was also a crèche where working parents would leave their kids during the day. When evening fell, old folks would gather in the park to enjoy the breeze.

I remember an old storyteller, who would sit with a kerosene lamp and narrate tales in Cantonese from classics such as The Three Kingdoms and Journey to the West. For a small fee, you could rent a tiny stool from him on which to listen. During intervals in the story, he would wind his way through the crowd holding a milk can. Clink! clink! -- in went the small change. He was probably the first busker Singapore ever had!

During the Hungry Ghosts festivities that occupied the Chinese 7^th lunar month, huge wood-and-canvas tents would rise on the hill. Beneath these tents you’d come face-to-face with colorful paper effigies of Chinese deities that stood as tall as 4 meters or more. They would be accompanied by joss sticks, just as tall, and shaped like gargantuan firecrackers with small figurines on wires studded on its surface. As a kid I would surreptitiously pry these figurines loose when no one was watching, and bring them home to play and to display.

Some tents were built to stage grand Cantonese operas. In those days it was common to have famous opera artistes specially brought in from Hong Kong to perform. It was believed these performances would provide entertainment for the dead; but the living seemed to benefit more. There would be proper seating for members of the sponsoring clan or association and its guests, but scores of other folks from the neighborhood would bring their “unofficial” seats – stools, benches, and even wooden crates -- and plant them permanently on the ground for the duration of the sometimes weeks-long theater.

In time the opera performances were no longer limited to the 7^th lunar month; the tent became a permanent stage, and later still a theater was built.

There was a patch of hillside where the flower, rhoeo discolor, (common name: oyster plant) grew abundantly. I used to harvest these flowers to bring home to dry in the shade for a couple of days. I would boil them with rock sugar and winter melon candies. Folks believed the flower was good for the throat and helped reduce thirst, but I loved them simply for their unique flavor. Sometimes, I used them as base for agar agar and jello; however, the oyster plant is hard to find in the market. You might occasionally find the leaves of the plant but its flowers are virtually non-existent, so you might need to grow them yourself.

Much has changed to the hill and its park. The low-rise buildings that surrounded it have been replaced with the present HDB blocks; the hill has been all but flattened, and today you wouldn’t even think that a hill once stood there.

Rhoeo Discolor Drink

Rhoeo Discolor                                 120 g

Water                                                 2.5 litres

Winter melon Candies                     100 g

Honey Rock Sugar                            100 g  

It is commonly known as 蚌花 in Chinese

Method:

1. Boil the leaves, melon candies, and water for 1½ hours.
2. Add honey rock sugar and adjust according to taste.
3. Serve it hot or cold.

A Masterclass with Sin Leong

Masterchef Sin Leong (left)

They were known as the “Four Heavenly Kings” of Singapore cuisine. Collectively, they fathered Cantonese food in Singapore as we know it today.

And, if I had any “idols” while growing up as a greedy food-obsessed teenager – it would be these four men.

Masterchefs Tham Yew Kai, Sin Leong, Lau Yoke Pui and Hooi Kok Wai arose from the culinary milieu of 1950s and 60s Singapore, and went on to establish some of the most famous and foundational Chinese restaurants of their generation. The four men met in the 1950s while working in the kitchen of the Cathay Restaurant, at the time the most prestigious fine dining Chinese restaurant in Singapore. The head chef of the restaurant had taken them under his wing; and when he died in 1962, the four left the Cathay and went separate ways.

Chefs Tham and Lau founded a small restaurant at Tiong Bahru. Chef Hooi and his wife opened a 20-table restaurant at the Metropole Cinema (the present Fairfield Methodist Church). And Chef Sin started a cooking school in Geylang with his wife.

Even though they were running separate but similar businesses, a brotherly camaraderie prevailed. And the four made it a point not to sell the same dishes so as to minimize competition.

Chefs Tham and Lau have since passed away; but their illustrious legacies live on, and are built upon by their two surviving friends. I’ll give Chef Sin his due in this post, and Chef Hooi his at a later date.

The first business venture of Chef Sin Leong, his cooking school, was located at Lorong 23 in Geylang. Today in his 80s, the chef described how the 20 or so students he taught would surround him closely to observe his cooking demonstrations. He invited some of his friends who were chefs to guest at his school. Among them were a Malay cuisine chef and a Western cuisine chef, and from them, he himself learned the use of spices and the making of sauces.

To supplement his earnings, Chef Sin along with two assistants would drive a mobile kitchen, actually a modified van, around the Kallang area where the National Stadium once stood. Eventually a hawker license officer advised him to start a restaurant, and kindly allowed him to apply for the restaurant license after he had got his business going and saved enough money to pay for the license.

The Sin Leong Restaurant was opened in 1965, and by the 1980s had grown to three branches. Among Chef Sin’s famed creations are the USA Duck, Crystal Prawn, and Siamese Chicken.

Chef Hooi Kok Wai, the youngest of the four, founded the Dragon Phoenix Restaurant in 1963. Later, in the 1970s, the four men together established the Red Ruby and Red Star restaurants. The Dragon Phoenix and Red Star still remain today.

Needless to say, all the above restaurants were my favorites, growing up. I’ve lost count of the weddings, birthdays, and other celebrations of family, relatives, and friends I’ve attended at these restaurants. Even today, I’d celebrate with Steve whenever there’s an occasion, with Crispy Fried Chicken and Yam Basket at Red Star.

Notes from the master's hand

So, imagine my surprise and delight when I bumped into Masterchef Sin Leong himself at Red Star the other day! After a short hello, the sprightly octogenarian spent the next half-hour regaling me with stories of his early career, and sharing precious cooking advice. What a sterling masterclass! Wanting more, I quickly arranged another interview barely 18 hours later. Not at all fazed by the short notice, he presented himself at that interview armed with a sheaf of hand-written notes, and, to my surprise, several dishes that he had prepared himself.

Here are the highlights of the interview:

My version of Yu Sheng. Photos (above & below right) by Isaac Lau.

How Yu Sheng was created in 1964

As they say: this is from the horse’s mouth. Even though the four heavenly kings ran separate businesses, they met frequently. On one such occasion the table talk turned to ways to increase business and revenue during the upcoming Chinese New Year. Chef Hooi and his wife broached the idea of a raw fish dish, as they had observed different versions of raw fish being served when they recently traveled in Malaysia. The Cantonese and Teochew, for instance, served recipes that were very simple in preparation and presentation, they said.

Nowadays, salmon and carp are used instead of Ikan Parang.

The four agreed a raw fish dish was a good idea. However, theirs had to be much more elaborate in order to command a higher price. And they got to work.

On Chinese New Year 1964, in a smart marketing move, Yu Sheng was launched simultaneously at all the restaurants of the four chefs. However, the initial reaction wasn’t what they had expected – it was lukewarm at best. Some people even hated the dish.

Undeterred, the chefs continued to improve the recipe and to cajole customers, even resorting to giving the dish free to regulars to “educate” them. It took almost six years before the dish finally became a hit. Then the rest of the restaurant bandwagon in Singapore jumped on! But history had been made.

Crystal Prawn: a tasting portion specially prepared by the masterchef

Two classic creations

The oddly-named USA Duck was inspired by a visit Sin Leong made to the US to see his son. When he looked at the frozen duck at American supermarkets, he realized the meat was more tender and lean than the Singapore variety. He introduced USA Duck in 1978, and created a special sauce to complement the crispy duck. The other classic creation of Sin Leong is the Crystal Prawn, which owes its semi-transparent, crunchy texture to a well-guarded and highly skilled cooking technique. These two dishes are served at Red Star Restaurant, which was founded by the four chefs in 1974 at Chin Swee Road.

Red Star Restaurant
Blk 54 Chin Swee Road
#07-23
Singapore
Tel: (65) 6532 5266

Dancing with the Stars at The Ivy

“You must do The Ivy, dear; you simply muuust…” my friends cooed when they heard I would be visiting Los Angeles. “OK lah,” I thought to myself, “since I’ve also read so much about the place…why not check it out?”

So, on my i-Phone, under “Must-See”, in went “Ivy”. I knew it would be easier landing on the moon than getting a table at this LA legend.

House signature: Ivy Gimlet

“Guess what?” my Californian friend, Elsa Schelin, said when I arrived in LA, “twisted a few arms; we’re go for lunch this Wednesday, The Ivy.” I almost exploded, but managed a dignified: “Yeah, really? The Ivy? Cool; owe you one, girl.”

The reservation was made days in advance; and we were running late on the day. “I’ve already called to move the time forward twice, honey,” Elsa intoned, as we hurried the last few meters, “the guy at the other end was such a bitch”.

We arrived; and after about ten minutes in line, were shown to our table. I sat down; and I looked at the people at the tables and in the waiting line. Now I knew what the fuss was all about.

It was like a spread from Vogue -- Pradas, Guccis, LVs, as far as the eye could see. Everyone looked and behaved like a model. I spotted a couple of bags swinging on the signature white picket fence, tossed as carelessly as you would some crappy old backpack; they were Chanel (current season, no less!).

Crab Cakes with Tartar Sauce

Under such “pressure”, I had to fight an overwhelming urge to rush back to my hotel, and change…you see, my Dolce & Gabbana shirt was one season late!

The open-air terrace in front of the restaurant was, apparently, the epicenter of people- and celebrity-watching. That was where we sat. On the other side of the road, right across from us, cohorts of paparazzi permanently stood by, ready to strike. Because you never know who might just pop in for lunch: Brad Pitt, Jack Nicholson, Jennifer Lopez, Jessica Alba…

Guacamole with Homemade Tortillas

For all that ultra-glam, the inside of the restaurant was surprisingly low-key. Some of you might even find the homey tavern-like interior familiar, because the restaurant had starring scenes in several Hollywood movies, such as the one in 1995’s Get Shorty in which Danny DeVito and John Travolta over-ordered a meal and then abandoned it.

The Ivy’s menu is not extensive, being basically American cuisine with influences of Louisiana and Cajun. As usual with a first time visit, I stuck to the specials of the day and the signature dishes. The flavors were robust, the ingredients very fresh, and the presentation was tasteful but decidedly home-style casual – very Nigella. But hey, who was there for the food anyway?

The waiters themselves were serious eye candy. They’re just there, I thought, waiting for that lucky break in Tinsel Town. That guy with the dark tousle serving the plate of poached salmon…could he be the next Orlando Bloom? And that athletic-looking guy with straw-colored hair behind the counter…a Matt Damon-in-waiting?

Crab Meat Sandwich

People were shmoozing and there was lots of air-kissing and table-hopping all around. A man in drainpipe jeans looked suspiciously 70-ish but had a face as tight as the skin on my buttocks. He sidled by, like he was some lithe young model on the catwalk, but his calcified gait gave him away.

Old-Fashioned Red Velvet Cake

The Ivy had cast its spell -- I had on my best American “accent” and speaking louder than I normally would, and I was waving my hands around a bit too much. I didn’t realize all this, until Elsa turned around and hissed: “Drama queen!” 

Like I said, who goes to The Ivy for the food?

The Ivy

113N Robertson Blvd, Los Angeles

CA 90048

Tel: (310) 274-8303

Note: Reservations are a must. Try and ask for a table at the open-air patio in summer, or near the fireplace in the front dining room during winter. These are the best seats for seeing and being seen. Expect to spend around US$100 per person for lunch, inclusive of drinks.

The Art of Eating in Hong Kong According to KC Koo

Photo by Wilson Fok

His stats would make any blogger swoon with jealousy -- 2.3 million pageviews and counting, and more than 6200 posted reviews to date. His organized eat-outs are one of the most talked-about events in the Hong Kong foodie blogosphere, and his first book Hong Kong & Kowloon Food Attack was launched to crowds of admiring fans at the recent Hong Kong Book Fair. Meet my friend and gourmet extraordinaire, KC Koo.

KC – as he’s called – has plied highways and byways the world over in search of the finest food and drink for more than 10 years, armed with little more than an insatiable appetite and curiosity for all things culinary…and, oh yeah, a laptop and what seems like nuclear energy in his veins.

This 40-something writes, blogs, tweets, tastes, plans and coordinates, nonstop 24 hours. He’s perpetually online, on phone, on road, or on the dining chair. He’s a walking food encyclopedia when it comes to his hometown, HK. Ask for an eating recommendation, and you’ll get the where, when, how, why, how come, how much, if not, and where else, with maybe a recipe or two thrown in! (And did I forget to say that KC’s also a marathoner?)

With fellow gourmet, Isaac Lau, KC puts together his foodie meet-up dinners nearly every night in HK. These have become highly anticipated sellouts; seating may range from an intimate table of ten, to dinners for 100 or more. The selected restaurant for the night would be asked – in fact, challenged – to whip up a special menu tailored to excite the sophisticated taste buds of the attendees, many of who are diehard regulars. An outburst of frenetic debate on the merits of the dinner always follows on the Net the very same night.

The food when I’ve attended has never failed to blow me away; and I’ve made great friends among the many kindred spirits I’ve met. These dinners, and diners, have opened my eyes to the mysteries of Chinese cooking, and helped me fathom its amazing intricacies and depths.

Aside from his blog, much of KC’s prolific output appears on OpenRice.com, a leading HK-based food website, and in magazines. In his new 280-page book, KC eats his way across the geographic and budget spectrum of HK, covering the whole territory (not including Macau) and its fine dining and roadside offerings, and everything in between. Each of the 250-plus establishments featured was visited and critiqued by the author himself. The focus is on their individual specialties, and the work is solo, thus guaranteeing the consistency of view and standard often missing from the teamwork approach of other food guides. These are selections culled from a lifetime of informed gastronomy and deep understanding of food.

Priced at HK$78, the book is available at most bookstores in HK. You can get to know KC and his latest eating escapades at http://gourmetkc.blogspot.com.

Happy reading and eating!

A Soothing Respite – Pickled Cucumber with Pork Ribs

This dish, whose origins I was never able to discover, is one I’ve eaten for as long as I could remember. It appears unique to my household, because I’ve never seen it anywhere else: be it home, roadside, or restaurant.

As Chinese savory dishes go, this one is uncommonly refreshing, especially in our hot and humid weather. When the unbearable heat makes you lose heart for a “heavy” dish, try this for a light appetizing alternative. There are two parts to it: pickled cucumber, and pork ribs in sweet bean sauce.

The ingredients are simple, as the dish relies on contrasts and complementarities of taste and texture, laid down in age-old traditions, for effect and seduction. There’s the counter-balancing of sourness with sweetness; in this case, pickled cucumber against sweet bean paste.  There’s crunchy cucumber versus tender pork rib; and, there’s the crisp bright green of cucumber against the dour dark brown of the stewed pork for a satisfying visual flourish.

I’m tempted to think it was either a bored or inspired mind that created this dish… Enjoy!

Pickled Cucumber with Pork Ribs

Oil                               1 tbsp

Sugar                           ½ tsp

Pork ribs                      400 g

Water/Stock                 1½ cups

Salt                              to taste

Dark soy sauce             ⅖ tsp

Caltrop flour                  ¼ tsp, mix with 1 tbsp  of water  (optional)

Pickled Cucumber

Cucumber                    350 g, sliced thinly

Vinegar                        1 tbsp

Sugar                           1 tbsp

Sweet Bean Paste (pounded finely)

Bean paste (豆酱)        35 g, minced

Garlic                          25 g, minced

Chilli                           20 g, minced

Oil                              1 tbsp

Sugar                          ⅓ tbsp

Method:

1.    Marinate cucumber with vinegar and sugar for 30 minutes.

2.    Mix sweet bean paste, garlic and chilli into a paste.  Heat wok with oil to medium heat. Add bean paste and sugar and fry for 10 minutes. If the bean paste begins to burn, add ½ tsp of water to prevent it from burning. Continue to simmer until the paste is fragrant.

3.    Increase heat to the maximum, add pork ribs and fry until the meat is brown.

4.    Add water/stock and simmer until the pork ribs are tender.

5.    Add pickled cucumber and marinated vinegar and cook for another 1 minute.

6.    Season with sugar, salt and dark soy sauce.

7.   Thicken the gravy with caltrop flour (optional).

Buah Jering : Nutty But Nice

I found this fruit not long ago in a wet market in Singapore. I’ve never seen it nor tasted it before. It’s called “Buah Jering” or simply “Jering” in Malay (I couldn’t find an English common name). The Malay stallholder told me that it is commonly eaten by the Malays, and that the plant and fruit is unique to Southeast Asia.

There are several ways to eat it: as a snack you can steam it well, and pop it into your mouth neat or coated with fresh grated coconut. I tried both versions and I preferred the latter as the nut is rather bland in taste. The sweetness of the coconut compensates for the blandness of the fruit.

I also tried it cooked in a stew, and its texture reminded me of chestnut but without the chestnut flavor. I think Jering works best eaten this way.

The Jering is a legume that is twisted into a purplish brown spiral. Apparently, the plant is medicinal too. The leaves are used to cure skin ailments, while the bark would be pounded and made into a gargle for toothache and gum infection. The seeds are large and are eaten to treat diabetes and hypertension. 

Oh my Gourd, it’s Bitter Gourd!

As a child I was prone to “heatiness”, which the Chinese believe results from an imbalance of yin and yang within the body. Indications of this would include a sore throat when I ate chilli and mouth ulcers when I ate durians, and falling sick when I ate mutton stew. 

However, I loved these heat-trap foods, and would indulge myself without the slightest concern for the consequences. My dad was naturally protective of me as I was his one and only child; and while he couldn’t stop me eating those foods (nobody could, or dared!) he would ensure there were plenty of remedies at hand for me.

Somehow, bitter gourd was found to be effective in “cooling” my system, so it frequently graced our dinner table. Incidentally, bitter gourd is known in Chinese as “cooling gourd”. We cooked our bitter gourd in a number of ways -- stewed, fried, boiled. It wasn’t called “bitter” for nothing, and so, I initially hated the vegetable, however it was prepared.

There was, perhaps, only one bitter gourd dish I actually looked forward to: bitter gourd stewed in black bean paste with chicken wings. The dish was extremely popular in the 70s and 80s, and was a staple of restaurants and roadside food stalls. When eating it, I’d skip the bitter gourd and poke around for the chicken, which was extremely tasty bathed in the bean sauce. This dish was one of those that tasted better if kept overnight.

The more often I ate the dish, curiosity and plain old greed got the better of me, and I began taking tiny nibbles of bitter gourd. Before I knew it, I was not just converted…I was hooked. It dawned on me that the bitter flavor was the whole point: it woke up jaded palates and was wonderfully stimulating to the digestion. These days, I like my gourds the bitterer the better!

Bitter gourd’s cooling effects make it a great vegetable for summer cooking. It supposedly improves the body’s immune system too, and is an anti-cancer agent. The Chinese have a nickname for it as well: “the gentleman vegetable”, because it is believed the vegetable gamely retains its bitter tang within itself and avoids tainting the other ingredients it is cooked with!

 Stewed Bitter Gourd in Black Bean Paste

Chicken wings                        3, cut into halves

Bitter gourd                           500 g, cut into wedges

Oil                                          1 tbsp

Water/chicken stock              1 cup

Sugar                                      ½ tbsp

Salt                                         ⅛ tsp

Dark soy sauce                       ½ tsp

Black bean paste

Preserved black bean            25 g, minced

Garlic                                     15 g, minced

Chilli                                       50 g, minced
Oil                                           ½ tbsp

Sugar                                      1 tsp
Water                                     ½ tsp

Method:

1. Heat wok in moderate heat, add ½ tbsp oil and fry black bean paste for 2 minutes. Add ½ tsp of water if the paste begins to get burnt. Add sugar and 2 tsp of water and simmer for 5 minutes. The water should evaporate and the paste should be thick by now.
2. Increase the heat to maximum; add 1 tbsp of oil, chicken and bitter gourd, and quick-fry until the chicken is slightly brown. Add water/chicken stock and simmer for 30 minutes.
3. Season with sugar, salt, and dark soy sauce.

Note:

There are several ways to prepare bitter gourd for cooking, which are believed to reduce its bitterness:

Method 1:  Marinate with salt for 20 minutes. Squeeze the water out from the gourd and rinse it with water.

Method 2:  Par-boil the gourd in boiling water for 1 minute. Remove and drain.

I usually cook the bitter gourd directly without going through the above 2 methods, as I like my vegetable bitter.

The Epic Quest for Ayam Ketumbar

Steve (who needs no introduction to those who know him) has “interesting” roots. Notice the inverted commas, because if anybody lives up to the label “mixed heritage” -- it was he.

His identity card says “Race: Chinese”; but everyone who sees him for the first time, speaks to him in Malay. He is yellow-skinned; but has uncles and cousins on his father’s side who are kopi-o-colored with tightly curled hair. He has a Chinese full name, while his dad owns a solitary Chinese surname. Steve’s maternal grandma is China-born yet his mom speaks English, Malay, Hokkien, and the Nonya patois, and dresses in sarong kebaya. 

Steve’s dad came to Singapore from Pulau Tikus, a tiny Dutch and Portuguese enclave in Penang. When Steve was a kid, his family lived in Pasir Panjang. In the 1950s to 70s, Pasir Panjang was an idyllic coastal neighborhood of Malays and Peranakans, dotted with picturesque seaside bungalows and terrace shophouses, and home to a thriving Malay kampong. Steve grew up on intimate terms with Malay, Peranakan, and Eurasian cooking. His maternal grandpa was of Dutch descent, and Steve’s father worked for the British Admiralty in Singapore, so European-style afternoon teas and soirees were a commonplace of his childhood, and the aromas from the family kitchen were rich and very diverse. 

Oh yeah, and Steve loves his mom’s cooking. There was a dish of his mom’s that Steve particularly liked, and my attempts to weasel that recipe from his mother brought me up against the full Byzantine brunt of a Peranakan matriarch – with hilarious results.

Peranakan Bibiks are insanely jealous of their recipes, and guard them like a dragon would its magic pearl. Everyone knew that, but I decided to try anyway. So I asked politely for the recipe; it was a kind of chicken sambal. The first few times, Steve’s mom pretended not to have heard me. But when I persisted, she told me the recipe was not written down; it was “in her head” and the measurements were “agak-agak” (Malay for “estimated”).

To further throw me off, she kept changing the dish’s name. It was “Portuguese Chicken” at first, later becoming “Arab Chicken”. So, when, on the umpteenth attempt, I asked for the Arab Chicken recipe, she snorted, “What Arab Chicken; I don’t have that. I think you mean the Indonesian Chicken…?”

I was ready to throw in the towel…she was good. I understood at that moment why Peranakan sons are so enamored of their mother’s cooking, and why they are so tied to their mom’s apron strings.

Years went by, we moved away, and the recipe was forgotten. Then one evening after dinner, during a visit to her home, she pulled out a yellowed exercise book, flipped the dog-eared pages and said simply, “Here it is.” After more than 20 years, the recipe was in our hands. She never explained why; and we never asked.

When we got home and looked at the book, Steve started laughing loudly: “It’s my hand writing!” The prim, childish writing on the pages brought back memories for him, of afternoons after school, spent copying recipe after recipe into that exercise book for mom. “I’ve forgotten all about it,” he said. “…All those years ago.”  

For me, the mystery’s finally over: it’s actually Ayam Ketumbar, a Peranakan dish, but with slightly altered ingredients.

YESSSSSS!

AYAM KETUMBAR

Ground coriander seed           1½ tbsp

Ground cumin                          1 tsp

Ground fennel                          1 tsp

Black pepper                             1½ tsp, coarsely ground

Ginger                                        30 g, grated

Garlic                                          4, minced

Oil                                               1½ tbsp

Onion                                         2, chopped

Sugar                                          ½ tbsp.

Chicken                                      1½ kg, chopped into large pieces

Assam                                        50g, dilute with 2 tbsp of water and drain

Water                                         1 cup

Salt                                             ½ tsp

Dark soy sauce                         ½ tsp

Method:

1. Fry ground coriander (without oil) in low heat until it is fragrant. Be careful as ground coriander gets burnt easily. Remove from heat.
2. Mix the spices, along with ginger and garlic, into a paste.
3. Fry onion with oil under low heat until the onion has caramelized without being burnt (about 20 minutes). Add spice mixture, sugar, and continue to fry for 5 minutes.
4. Turn heat to the maximum, add chicken and fry until the chicken is slightly brown.
5. Add assam and water, simmer for 20 minutes until the chicken is cooked.
6. Season with salt and dark soy sauce.

Note: Actual dish is darker; less dark soya sauce was used in the picture so that the chicken would show more clearly.

What’s a Chicken doing in the Basket?

Growing up in the late 60s and 70s, the neighborhood around Bras Basah Road, Stamford Road, and the National Library was my playground. Things looked very different then: the buildings that stood then are today gone or replaced; and land that was empty then, is today choc-a-bloc with tall buildings.

I spent a lot of the time in the National Library (now demolished), the now-defunct MPH Bookstore, and the row of second-hand bookshops that lined Bras Basah Road. Like nearly every kid of the time, I devoured my fair share of Enid Blytons, Mills & Boons, Barbara Cartlands, and -- perhaps peculiar to me -- Chinese pugilistic novels (at the Shanghai Book Store on Victoria Street).

The little bookshops along Bras Basah Road were especially memorable, in a run-down, cobwebby, “magical emporium” kind of way. They were owned and run mostly by Indians and famous for their huge collections of second-hand books and textbooks. There was no air-condition and the shop frontage was wide open to the five-foot-way. Yellow bulbs lit the dingy interiors; there were wooden tables and sagging wooden shelves along the walls; and all was dust, smell of old paper, and sticky humidity. But oh, was it fun; I spent endless afternoons lost in those bowels! There was a sprinkle of sports shops too, but they didn’t interest me at that young age.

But food was never far from my mind – whatever the age. Who could forget the famous row of Indian Rojak stalls on Waterloo Street with their noisy, infuriating touts? They kept me well and happily fed on many an afternoon. Another favorite pastime of mine was lunch or afternoon tea at the coffee houses along Orchard Road, Bras Basah Road, and Victoria Street.

I remember the set lunches they served of soup, bun, main, and dessert at the then-princely sum of $2.50. Choice of main course usually came down to pork chop, chicken chop, fish and chips, or sirloin steak. Dessert was a choice of jello, cake with cream, or cocktail fruits. That was pretty fancy dining back then.

One of the more “stylo” coffee houses of that era was Red House at the junction of Victoria Street and Bras Basah Road, so-named for its gaudy all-red façade. Others were Skillets at Supreme House (today Park Mall), which was in the mid 70s renamed Silver Spoon. Further along on Orchard Road were the Tivoli, The Ship, and Copper Kettle, popular with both locals and tourists. And, if I felt really rich, I would head for Fosters Steakhouse at Amber Mansion (present Dhoby Ghaut MRT station) for dinner….

Apart from set lunches, I would always look forward to Chicken in the Basket: a common snack in those days which was, basically, fried chicken chunks served with potato chips or sliced cucumber. Its closest equivalent these days is the chicken nugget, a much less spunky dish, but still a favorite especially with the kids.

Chicken in the Basket

Chicken                      200 g, cubed

Salt                            ½ tsp

Pepper                       ¼ tsp

Water                         ½ tsp

Corn flour                    3 tbsp

Oil                              2 cups

Garnishing:

Cucumber

Tomato ketchup

Method:

1. Season chicken with salt, pepper, water and corn flour for 30 mins.
2. Deep fry chicken until half cooked.
3. Remove from oil and drain.
4. Once cool, re-fry the chicken until it is golden brown and crispy.
5. Serve immediately with cucumber garnishing and tomato ketchup.