Sze Thye Cake Shop - Son Set Industry

The First Day of Chinese New Year probably means more to Mr Koh Sun Liang than to any of us -- because it is the one rest day of his entire year.

Call on him the remaining 364 days, and he is hard at work at the Chinese pastry shop began by his father more than sixty years ago. The workday for the 66-year-old begins at six every morning when he starts preparing dough and the sweet fillings. By 8 am, Mr Koh is ready for his first customer; his has been a lifetime devoted to his craft.

At 12 he learned the methods of making traditional pastries and snacks from scratch. It was, and is, tedious work. The chief ingredients for the sweet fillings are green beans from Thailand and red beans from China.  The beans are soaked and then cooked and blended in a process that takes at least two days.

The shop with its multi-layers of trays holding the fruit of the old cake-maker’s labor, harks back to the 1950s and 60s; to a time when western cakes were not easily available, or were expensive, and when Chinese cakes and snacks such as these were common as afternoon tea or made gifts for friends.

Many of the pastries are handmade; moulds were used or the cakes were simply shaped with fingers. Mr Koh owns more than 100 of these wooden cake moulds, some intricately carved. He tells us they were made in China and were at least 60 years old. Business has not been good for a while, he says.

His customers were mostly folks in their 50s or older; what he sells does not appeal much to the younger generation. His handmade sculptures of sugar and candy find their main purpose as festive or votive offerings at birthdays, weddings, and temple events and ceremonies. They bring the bulk of business for him these days.

Future prospects seem no brighter; Mr Koh’s search for someone to replace him has been fruitless so far. The long hours, hard tedious work and slow business, have all seen to that.  Bent over the moulds, fingers white with flour, he runs the shop, today, all by himself.

The Sze Thye Cake Shop has been located at Lian Seah Street since 1950; it moved to its present address in 2005.

Sze Thye Cake Shop

Blk 2 Beach Road

#01-4795

Singapore 190002

Tel: 6337 7010

Chef in Black Plays with his Food

What’s my idea of the ultimate eating experience at a restaurant? A chef given a free hand to cook the freshest ingredients available, in the best possible way, matched with the ideal glass of wine, in front of an appreciative table. It actually materialized a few nights ago.

There we were, six of us seated at the bar counter, as Chef Emmanuel Stroobant and his assistant whipped up a 15-course dinner in his so-called “playground”. But this was a culinary playground with a difference – there was no open-fire stove in this kitchen, instead a Miele steam oven stood off to the side. What others may see as a limitation or insurmountable challenge, Chef Emmanuel seemed to relish as he introduced one creative dish after another -- Japanese Tomato “fruit” with Parmesan gelation topped with Fleur de Sel, Japanese melon with Habujo, Salmon with Cep and Bacon…

The Oscietra Caviar, Egg Confit and Sour Dough were a match-made-in-heaven even for the jaded tongues at the table. This deceptively simple dish comes through in its complexity of flavors: the saltiness of world-class caviar, mixed with the slight sour taste of bread coated with a sous-vide cooked egg yolk.

Truffles were in season; and Chef Emmanuel teased our taste buds with white and black truffles in two separate creations -- Tartare of King Scallop with White Truffle, and Steamed Grenaille Potato with Black Truffle. With these two delicate creations, scallop and potato were like the supporting cast in a great movie, complementing the truffles with their quiet presence.

Traditionalists of French cooking would be surprised with the Sea Bass Bouillabaisse with Sea Urchin Crouton; the soup was delightfully light, and for a brief moment reminded me of miso soup. I could have done with a more generous dose of sea urchin on the crouton though. The Otoro, a couple of courses later, equally delighted me (how could Otoro ever fail to delight?). Skillfully sliced, torched, and baptized with wasabi oil, the fish was perfect!

There seems to be two opposing camps to the question of sous-vide cooking; I happen to belong to the skeptics. But Chef Emmanuel, who firmly affirms that this slow-cooking method is here to stay, very nearly converted me! He had dry aged Angus beef tenderloin and confit prepared at 54°C for three hours, yielding a blood red slice of meat, which he assured us, was well-cooked. My verdict? The full flavour of beef came across bloody strong (pardon the term) through the butter, shallot, and herbs. Whopping shiok!

The evening was buoyant and freewheeling, and quips flew between chef and guests. Everyone was cajoled into declaring likes and preferences, and even what we would like to see for the next course. But unanimously – and wisely, I might add -- we insisted on putting ourselves in Chef Emmanuel’s good hands.

Perhaps I was really full by the time dessert arrived, by they didn’t deliver the punch I was expecting. The flash-frozen Vietnamese Mint “After Eight” was a good break from the savoury dishes that went before it, but I felt the Gelatin-coated Fig was slightly overpowered by the saffron.

Admittedly, there were triumphs and near misses, but in all, it was a performance that lived up to its promise of playful creativity. We witnessed a chef at the height of his powers, trusting his instincts to make bold choices, and inventing in an almost improvisational manner. Exhilarating and memorable.

Limited to a party of 6 persons; priced at nine-course dinner at $250++ per person, 12-course at $350++ and 15-course at $450++ per person. Reservation is required.

Saint Pierre

#01-01 Central Mall

3 Magazine Road

Singapore 059570

Gastronaut has landed!

An old man's obsession with food makes it to the national papers!

Fried Glutinous Rice – Worth the Tears

In Singapore of the 60s, hawker licensing laws weren’t that stringently enforced. As a result many households were able to set up makeshift ‘pirate’ food stalls to earn extra cash. Without any sort of culinary training to speak of, these hawkers would simply cook and sell what they knew best: food they ate at home, or well-known dishes and snacks from their dialect groups. I remember them well, these 1^st- or 2^nd-generation immigrants to Singapore, the blood of their motherland still coursing thick in their veins.

I remember too, the type of food they cooked: robust, unadulterated, and redolent of their origins -- you ate, so to speak, the real McCoy.

I knew one such hawker family. At 4 in the morning the mother would wake up and start whipping up a storm in the kitchen for the morning’s business. Her husband, or sometimes children, would then set up stall – a couple of charcoal stoves, a table and stools -- at the foot of their flat. They sold fried noodles, peanut porridge, and a favorite of mine: fried glutinous rice.

To make fried glutinous rice, in the truly traditional way, is bicep-building work. You stand at the wok, slow frying the rice. The grains get stickier -- and increasingly harder to stir -- as the rice slowly cooks. It’s torture on the arms, but worth it. Properly done, each grain of rice acquires a light crust and is filled with flavor from the preserved sausages and other ingredients.

Understandably, the woman would produce only a small tub’s worth each day, whereupon a queue would form just for it, and the glutinous rice would sell out before the clock hits 7 every morning. It was cheap too. You get two mouthfuls for 20 cents – a fair deal by the living costs of those days, considering the effort to make it.

For a kid, it was a total treat! I’d savor each bite, and make sure the breakfast lasted.

The rest of the food would usually sell out by 9. The hardworking mother would clean the hawking space, and return to her domestic duties.

I’ve listed two cooking methods. The first is an easier method that anyone could prepare; it would be similar in taste to the other, and much less work. However, for the purists and traditionalists among you, the second method is yours! It would give you a true sense of how strenuous the preparation is…but the end result is worth every drop of sweat; trust me!

Fried Glutinous Rice

Glutinous rice             300 g

Water                          3 cups

Dried shrimps             20 g, soaked in warm water

Dried mushroom        15 g, soaked in warm water

Salt                              1½ tsp

Chinese sausage         30 g

Chinese liver sausage 30 g

Chicken broth             3 tbsp

Light soy sauce           1 tbsp

Dark soy sauce           ½ tbsp

Fried shallots

Fried garlic

Spring onion

White pepper

Method:

1. Soak dried shrimp and mushroom in warm water for 30 minutes. Drain them well but keep the water.
2. Soak glutinous rice with 3 cups of water plus the water from soaking the dried shrimps and mushrooms. Drain the rice thoroughly after 3 hours. Add salt in the rice and mix well.
3. Steam rice, dried shrimp and diced mushroom for 30 minutes. Sprinkle 2 tbsp of chicken broth and place the sausages on top of the rice and continue to steam for another 10 minutes.
4. Remove the sausages and dice them.
5. Pour 3 tbsp of oil in a hot wok. Fry the sausages till slightly golden brown. Add minced garlic and rice and continue to fry until there is a light crust on the rice.  In between, sprinkle light and dark soy sauce into the rice. These sauces add flavor and also make the frying of the rice easier. There should be a light crust in every grain.
6. Sprinkle fried shallots, garlic, spring onion and pepper before serving.

Note: Make sure the rice is hot before frying or it will stick together.

Traditional Method:

1. Heat 1 tsp of oil in a wok. Fry mushroom until the water in the mushroom has evaporated. Add minced garlic, shrimp, diced sausages, and fry until it is fragrant. Remove and set aside.
2. Heat 2 tbsp of oil on medium flame. Add rice and fry for 15 minutes. In between, sprinkle chicken broth and salt.
3. Return the fried sausage mixture into the rice and continue to fry for another 10 minutes. Sprinkle soy sauces in between.
4. Once the rice is cooked, sprinkle fried shallots, garlic, spring onion and pepper before serving.

Wow! Wo Pau

To those who know me well, I’ve always been something of a scatterbrain. Especially when it comes to remembering names and faces.

Food is a different matter. I almost never forget a smell or flavor, a sauce, a seasoning, herb or spice.

A case in point is the ‘wo pau’. I ate this pau (meat bun) when I was 5. It was a first, and only, encounter, yet I remember it like it was yesterday. And I’m in my early 50s.

It was the 1960s; and the place was the Nam Tin (Southern Sky) Restaurant, located at Nam Tin Hotel and Nightclub in Chinatown, Singapore; more familiar today as the Yue Hwa Department Store at the junction of Eu Yen Sang Road and Upper Cross Street. You’d never guess looking at this building today, that it was one of the tallest – and most glamorous -- of its time.

Built around the turn of the 20^th century and designed by Swan and Maclaren, this 6-storey building was the first Chinese hotel in Singapore to have a lift! It catered largely to Chinese travelers, and its nightclub on the rooftop attracted the wealthy and the socialites of the Chinese community in Singapore. I remember, as a kid, watching the grownups frown and shake their heads at the dancing girls and hostesses of the nightclub.

Reunited with an old friend after 40 years.
A Hong Kong version found at Lin Heung Kui, Sheung Wan

I remember too the building’s classical façade, which appeared looming and gigantic to me as a kid. It was ash gray with strong horizontal lines, angular arches, and simple cornices. It had balconies with steel-frame windows and European-style grills and railings. Looking at those windows and balconies sometimes made me sad, for they seemed to tell the story of the hotel’s ups and downs. In good times, the windows would blaze with light and sounds from the grand dinners and balls that went on behind them. In the last declining years of the hotel, the same windows and balconies would be hung with the washings of occupants who were no longer the elite of the land, but shoestring travelers.

Ran into another version in Meldrum Walk,
 Johor Bahru, recently.

During the 60s, the Nam Tin Restaurant filled the left portion of the hotel on its two bottom storeys. A delightful old lift with collapsible iron grilles linked the two floors. I loved the restaurant’s lower floor because I could watch the waiters carry dim sum out of the kitchen. In those days, dim sum wasn’t pushed around on trolleys or steamed-upon-order; instead the waiters would make their rounds carrying the steaming little baskets on a huge bamboo tray.

Although I ate regularly at the restaurant, I only saw the wo pau once -- shaped like a puffy white bowl with the meat stuffing exposed. A raw egg was placed on top of the meat to act as a lid and keep it moist. It took lots of skill, for sure, to shape the dough-bowl without collapsing it – something I tried but couldn’t do when I made my own wo pau. So I decided that the end justifies the means, and cheated by placing a bowl underneath to shape the dough.

When the hotel and restaurant finally closed, I went on a quest for the wo pau. Most dim sum chefs I described it to would wave their hands at me and accuse me of making up stories! More than 40 years passed before I finally saw something resembling it at Lin Heung Lo, a restaurant in Hong Kong.

Since then, I’ve come across a couple of versions of the still-very-rare wo pau. I saw one in Johor Baru made from glutinous rice, and another at Alexandra Village in Singapore made from two types of dough.

Wo Pau 窝包

Basic Yeast Dough  (makes 6)

Ingredients ‘A’ :

Pau flour                      250g, sifted

Salt                              ¼  tsp

Instant yeast               ¼  tbsp

Sugar                          40 g

Water                          120 ml

Shortening                  1½ tbsp

Ingredient ‘B’ :

Baking powder            ½ tbsp

Meat Filling:

Pork                             150 g

Chicken                       150 g

Chinese sausage        1, cut into 6 pieces

Dried mushroom         20 g, soaked in warm water and drained

Oyster sauce              1 tbsp

Chinese wine              ½ tbsp.

Corn flour                    2 tsp

Sesame oil                  1 tsp

Hard-boiled egg          1, cut into 6 slices

Method :

1. Mix all of ingredients ‘A’ together and knead into a smooth and elastic dough.
2. Cover with a piece of wet cloth and leave to prove until it has doubled its bulk.
3. Sift baking powder on top of the dough and knead well to distribute the baking powder until the dough is smooth again.
4. Cover and rest for 15 minutes before shaping.
5. Shape the dough into a log and divide the log into 6 pieces equally.
6. Take one portion, using a rolling pin, shape into a circular shape. Place it onto a bowl and press it against the side of the bowl.
7. Fill the bowl with the meat filling.
8. Steam the pau for 20 minutes.

Meat filling:

1. Mix all ingredients well, except the egg, and marinate it for at least 30 minutes.

The Islamic, a Singapore Original

Nasi Bryani comes with an option of meat: chicken, mutton or fish.

Growing up in 60s and 70s Singapore, the Islamic Restaurant was, to me, an Aladdin’s Cave redolent with the mystery and exoticism of Old Arabia; filled not with loot and precious gems, but with a sumptuous treasure no less…of the culinary kind!

Not many restaurants in Singapore (I reckon a dozen or so?) can lay claim to being a culinary institution. In my book, Islamic Restaurant is in this elite.

“The Islamic ” -- as it’s more usually referred to – was founded in 1914, making it nearly 100 years old. The man who founded it was M. Abdul Rahman, an Indian masterchef who cut his teeth working for a wealthy Arab family, the Alsagoffs. The Alsagoffs were early owners of the Raffles Hotel and famous in Singapore history for their philanthropy.

According to the story, the masterchef’s deft fusions of the Indian and Arab cuisines so tantalized his employers that he decided to strike out on his own. Thus was born the Islamic. Although it has relocated a couple of times over its history, the restaurant has always been famously housed in one of the 2-storey prewar shophouses that line North Bridge Road, across from the Sultan Mosque.

In its heyday in the 50s to 70s, the Islamic was a place to be seen. British colonials and wealthy locals dined there, and its guest list was graced with Presidents of Singapore, top judges and government officials, and regional royal families. I remember attending the lavish wedding dinners of some friends at the restaurant in the 1960s. To me, its décor and ambience counted almost as much as the food.

Tomato in Sweet Syrup

I loved the sconce lights, pewter ware, damask drapery, and framed Quranic inscriptions on the walls. It was cozy and dim; the rich fabrics and jewel-like colors became weatherworn over the years, I remember; but it only seemed to add to the atmosphere. While eating, you would sometimes hear the muezzin’s musical call at prayer times from the nearby mosque. This made dining at the Islamic magical.

But let’s talk about the food. Of this, Nasi Beryani remains the Islamic’s most famed. From the Persian word for “roasted/fried before cooking”, Beryani is a rice-based dish made with spices, rice, and meat and vegetables. And of the many types of Beryani in existence, the Islamic’s is unique, combining both Indian and Arab methods of cooking in a well-guarded secret recipe, created by the founder, M. Abdul Rahman, himself.

Mutton Samma

My personal favorites, however, include the hard-to-find Tomato in Sweet Syrup, a wonderful starter as well as a great dip for the Roti Mariam. Another must for me, since the 1960s, has been the Mutton Samma, mutton slow-cooked in thick gravy and spicy-peppery in flavor. Also superb are the Chicken Mysore (a favorite with the Sultan of Brunei, I’m told) and the Mutton Mysore. In fact, the best way to sample the Islamic’s 200-item menu is to have plain rice with two or three accompanying dishes of meat, fish or vegetables – as I often do.

Roti Mariam

Now to the Roti Mariam. A woman at Kampong Glam created this unique ‘roti’ (bread) and sold it on a pushcart. The Islamic later employed her, and included her roti on the menu. Roti Mariam is named after her, and is available at the Islamic and nowhere else. It tastes like a cross between naan and prata, and is eaten with plain sugar, milk, or curry.

Today the Islamic is into its third-generation of owners, and no longer the habitué of just the mighty and well heeled, but everybody. And, may I add, long may it live and prosper!

Islamic Restaurant


745 North Bridge Road


Singapore 198713


Tel: 65-6298 7563

Curry Chicken – No Explanation Needed

If you asked me, there’s one dish that deserves to be honored as a national dish, but never is. Curry Chicken.

Every ethnicity has its own variant, or often variants. It’s the darling of potluck parties and food caterers; and mainstay of  “economical rice” stalls and hotel coffee houses and everything in between. It graces the festive table at home, and once was a common repast for hungry attendees at all-night wakes. And, it’s been around like forever.

Curry chicken was always accompanied by fried bee hoon and fish balls at parties. They made a terrific trio. When I was young, I had a schoolmate whose grandmother hailed from Ipoh, Malaysia. This old lady made a to-die-for curry, and it was one of the first dishes she taught me. She made it literally from scratch – a commonplace in those days.

There was no recipe, no weighing scale. The spices would be mixed to an estimated ratio. She would pound the shallots, garlic, spices and everything, in a mortar and pestle; and fry the thick rich paste for more than an hour in a wok. The sounds and, most memorably, the smell, of her labors would fill the entire house. Under such tutelage, my Curry Chicken education was off to a good start!

For those lacking the confidence, or fortitude, for such backbreaking effort, there’s always the Indian stall at the wet market. Simply name your intention -- curry chicken, or beef rending, or curry vegetable – and the stallholder will put together, from a pre-ground array of spices, the perfect mix for you. Easy as that!

Personally, I prefer the long road; but to make it worth my while for the trouble of pounding the ‘rempah’ (pre-cooked curry paste), I usually make a huge quantity. That way, I could stockpile the rempah -- split into smaller containers and stored in the freezer – for future use. Here’s one of my favourite recipes for Curry Chicken.

A gift from a friend, this electric stone grinder
makes preparing spices much easier.

Curry Chicken

Chicken                       1, cleaned and cut into chunks

Ginger                         50 g, grated

Potato                         500 g, skinned and cubed

Water                          3 cups

Coconut                      500 g, grated

Oil                               1 cup

Lemon grass               5, bashed

Salt                              ¾ tbsp

Sugar                           1 tsp


Curry Rempah:

Coriander seeds          5 tbsp, fry in a dry pan until fragrant

Candlenut                   20 g

Dried chillies               100 g, soaked in warm water, drained

Fresh turmeric            70 g, bashed
Red chillies                 10

Shallots                       300 g

Curry powder             300 g

Chilli paste                  3 tbsp

Garlic                           100 g

Method:

1.             Grate ginger and squeeze juice to marinate the chicken for 30 minutes.

2.             Cut potato and soak in water to remove the starch. Dry and deep-fry the potato until the skin is slightly brown. Drain and set aside.

3.             Fry rempah (without the garlic) and bashed lemongrass with oil under medium heat for 20 minutes. Add a tsp of water if necessary to prevent the rempah from being burnt.

4.             Add garlic and continue to fry for another 5 minutes, or until oil oozes out from the rempah.

5.             Increase the heat to the maximum, add chicken and fry until the skin of the meat is lightly golden. Add potato and 2 cups of water; simmer for 20 minutes.

6.             Meanwhile, squeeze ¼ cup of coconut cream from the grated coconut. Set aside. Add 1 cup of water to the grated coconut and from it squeeze another cup of coconut milk. Set aside.

7.             Add 1 cup of coconut milk to the curry mixture and simmer for another 10 minutes. Ensure the mixture does not boil or the coconut milk will curdle.

8.             Add salt and sugar to taste.

9.             Just before serving, add the coconut cream and heat for 5 minutes.

I normally make curry paste in huge quantities and
store them in smaller containers in the freezer for future use.

Curry Rempah:

1.             Pound coriander seeds, candlenut, dried chillies, turmeric, and shallots, in sequence, finely. Ensure each ingredient is finely pounded before adding the next ingredient.

2.             Add curry powder and chilli paste and mix well. Set aside.

3.             Pound garlic until fine and set aside.

4.             If you are using an electric blender, add all fresh ingredients with a little bit of water and blend it thoroughly. Mix the curry powder and chilli paste well before cooking.

Ginger Biscuit – Words & Morsels

What is food, without language to describe and celebrate it? I was lucky to be instilled with a love for both, early on in my life.

I learned English at pre-school kindergarten at a public school, under the no-nonsense eye of an archetypical British teacher, all prim and proper ala Ms Jean Brodie. I remember her fondly; she would drill us for hours on end, on pronunciation and grammar, and to her I owe my lifelong appreciation of the tongue. In class, she was also an enthusiastic and tireless communicator of English social manners and etiquette. She helped set certain standards of behavior that I still live by today.

School day started at 8 am and ended around 3 in the afternoon. To a kid my age this seemed an eternity. But there were blessings. The daily meal routine was tea, lunch, and tea again. We were fed well: at tea, we helped ourselves to sandwiches, cakes, and biscuits, washed down with milk, tea, and fruit juices. Tea became one of my favorite drinks, and afternoon tea with biscuits one of my favorite pastimes for life. Here is a classic biscuit from these early years that I’ve enjoyed, given a twist using fresh ingredients from South East Asia.

Ginger Biscuit

Self raising flour                  170 g

Soft brown sugar               100 g

Bicarbonate of soda          1 tsp

Butter                                     56 g

Fresh ginger                          ¼ cup, grated

Ginger flower                       4 tbsp

Golden syrup                       1 tsp

Egg                                           1

Method:

1.     Preheat oven at 180°C

2.     Mix all dry ingredients in a bowl.

3.     Add beaten egg a little at a time to produce a stiff consistency.

4.     Divide the dough into 12 pieces and roll them into a ball.

5.     Bake for 15 – 20 minutes.