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If you pay a visit to Chinatown Complex during its bustling lunch peak hour, you might notice one of the stalls conspicuously lacking in activity.
The stall has been closed for the past four months since March 2023.
Claypot and Cooked Food Kitchen is renowned for its authentic, old-school Cantonese zichar, with dishes such as the sweet and sour pork and braised fish head often receiving high praise from reviewers.
According to food YouTuber Gregory Leow, the stall is closed until further notice, after its proprietor, known to regulars as Uncle Hong, suffered a bad fall which shattered his pelvic bone.
Leow has been Uncle Hong’s regular customer since 2019, after having first heard of his food through online reviews. As it turns out, Leow later decided that it was so good he would document and review almost the entire menu in a 28-minute-long YouTube video.
When I first reached out to Leow, I was just keen to find out more about Uncle Hong and his best dishes – it must be something special if someone had dedicated that much time and effort to attempt a review of every dish (Leow made several visits, but there were just a few items that were unfortunately not available).
I’d also hoped to speak to Uncle Hong, to find out more about the chef behind these beloved old-school Cantonese-style dishes.
Hong’s family declined requests for an interview with him, and I did not end up speaking to him personally. But I ended up meeting a whole community of Uncle Hong’s longtime customers and associates, who helped me piece together a picture of the hawker and his cooking prowess, while also providing heartfelt memories of their interactions.
Leow told me candidly that this is just “how much of an impact” Uncle Hong has had on him and all his customers through the years:
“It’s so much so that we’d actually take time out to answer questions relating to him.
We are all in agreement that when you taste his food, you realise, ‘oh, it is something different’.”
Uncle Hong’s culinary journey
In fact, it’s through Uncle Hong’s food that Leow first met Lim Ying Jie, 58, who has been patronising Uncle Hong’s stalls since 1997.
Lim shared that Uncle Hong, whose real name is Ho Chee Hong, entered the culinary scene since age 17, cutting his teeth at various hotels and restaurants in Singapore to learn Cantonese cooking, including the Hilton hotel and famous Cantonese restaurant Lai Wah.
Lai Wah restaurant was opened in 1963 by two of the “Four Heavenly Kings of Singapore Cantonese cuisine” – Tham Yui Kai and Lau Yoke Pui.
After around four years of working with various famous Hong Kong chefs, Hong then moved to Japan and the Bahamas briefly in the early 1980s.
In the late 1980s, Hong returned to Singapore and opened his first hawker stall at Silat Road.
However, increasing rental prices eventually led Hong to move to Chinatown Complex, where he continued to run the stall with his wife and a helper.
Uncle Hong’s days would begin around 7:30am each day, with prep work and firing up his wok.
Lim, who lives in one of the HDB flats above Chinatown Complex, grew close to Hong and his wife over the years. Lim recounts their succinct morning routine:
“I go down, I see this old man. I look at him and he says hello to me. I say hello, curse at him, and he curses back at me. Then I buy coffee and fruits for him.”
Fragrant wok hey and forgotten Cantonese-style dishes
Both Leow and Lim consider Hong’s food one of the best in Singapore because of the fragrant wok hei the latter manages to infuse in all his dishes, that takes them to the next level.
Wok hei — loosely translated as the breath of the wok — is the smoky, charred aroma that skilled chefs impart food through frying it in a wok.
Hong also specialises in old-school Cantonese dishes that few Singaporeans would have heard of today, and that are rarely, if still sold at other Chinese restaurants in Singapore.
“It’s like all these forgotten dishes, you know,” Leow elaborated.
“He has his official menu, and then off-menu, the dishes he knows are double that. And you’d only know if you see the regulars eat or you know someone who knows.”
Some of these off-menu dishes include really old-school ones, such as wallet chicken (lou mai gai), but also include beloved classics such as bean sprouts with salted fish (ham yu ar choy).
The bean sprout dish in particular might look simple and unassuming, but it is actually incredibly labour intensive.
Hong’s version has him manually removing the head and tail of each and every young bean sprout in order to prepare the dish, a process that is so time-consuming that it is hardly practised at other stalls anymore, elaborated Leow in his YouTube video.
Lim shared that his personal favourite dish of Hong’s is an old-school Hong Kong dish that is no longer found elsewhere in Singapore today – called “包您发财” or “包罗万有”.
According to Lim, the dish can essentially be described to be “pen cai” – a traditional Chinese meal comprising several layers of different ingredients – that is stuffed inside an entire cabbage.
The cabbage is first boiled over several hours, for it to gently soften and open. Abalone, mushroom, chinese sausage, glutinous rice, and other ingredients then have to be stir fried separately and carefully wrapped inside the cabbage.
The process of making the dish is complicated and can take up to six hours.
The owner of Noodle Man restaurant, who gave his name as Wong, opined that “no one does better on Cantonese dishes” in Singapore than Hong.
“He knows a lot. There’s also dishes such as the ‘凤吞燕’ [a traditional Cantonese soup dish comprising birds nest stuffed inside a whole chicken], and sharks fin.”
56-year-old Wong was someone Lim had suggested I speak to as well, as a former chef who had worked closely with Hong in various restaurants.
Wong cited a dish called “凤吞燕” as evidence of Hong’s culinary knowledge and skill.
The dish’s name can be translated literally to “a swallow swallowed by a phoenix” and involves encasing a bird's nest inside a chicken and double-boiling it.
Wong said:
“‘凤吞燕’ is very old school. Nowadays restaurants are not as willing to cook these dishes anymore, as they are so labour intensive and need to be handmade.”
Not your typical friendly hawker
Still, good food comes at a price, and in Hong’s case it came in the form of long waits and less-than-friendly, even crass behaviour.
According to Wong, it is not uncommon for chefs from the 1970s and 1980s to be more short-tempered. These chefs were often “all very skilled”, but also temperamental and uncompromising both in and out of the kitchen.
They would only pass on their skills to their “own group of brotherhood chefs”, said Wong.
Charlie Chang, 62, who runs Weng Kiang Kee Porridge right next to Claypot Cooked Food and Kitchen at Chinatown Complex, said he enjoys Hong’s food and considers it “very authentic”.
But Chang also recalled his struggles with Hong’s attitude, as the older man could be very impolite.
“It can offend people”, Chang said, explaining that he has seen Hong brusquely tell waiting customers that there was no more food when the stall got too busy.
Chang opined that Hong could have managed this by hiring more staff or reducing the number of menu items instead.
“Why tell people, ‘You have to wait two hours. Don’t want then don’t wait.’?”
According to Lim, Hong also tended to be unreceptive to feedback on his cooking.
However, Lim also caveated that in his opinion, this was all simply part of Cantonese culture.
Lim explained that returning customers who have interacted with Hong understand and accept his personality, and so will most often take his side:
“Those who know will ‘diu’ [curse at] the customer together, while learning Cantonese at the same time. It’s how my son actually picked up most of his [Cantonese] vocabulary, from Uncle Hong.”
Tan Chui Har, 74, the co-owner of Xiu Ji Ikan Bilis Yong Tau Foo stall at Chinatown Complex, agreed that Hong has always been rather impatient, but said that at his core, he is a good person.
“He does not mean the things he says. He isn’t particularly bad or anything, he isn’t petty. It’s just his temper is bad, especially when people rush him.”
Tan, who was also introduced to me by Lim, is one of Hong’s closer friends at the hawker centre, and told me that she has known him for almost 50 years.
The longtime friends first met at Lai Wah, where Tan had been working as service staff, while Hong was in the kitchen. She elaborated:
“We have a chill relationship. If not happy then don’t continue talking lor. If he feels like talking, he comes over, if not he’ll leave. That’s just his personality.”
Tan added pointedly that while she understood the frustration over the long waits, she hoped that more of Hong’s customers could also be understanding of Hong and his age, especially since many of his dishes do take a longer time to prepare.
“It’s hard lah. I don’t go to eat there that often anymore, because I feel embarrassed to order when he’s so busy.”
However, Tan added that Hong would often still cook for her and her daughter even after he closed his stall, including offering them a share of special dishes he happened to prepare.
He would also give a discount whenever Tan ordered his more expensive dishes, such as “凤吞燕”. It’s a kindness Tan recounts with glee.
“Old friend price!” said Tan, with a knowing smile.
Hong’s return
Tan, Lee, and Wong share a sense of optimism around Hong's return to work. The exact timing remains uncertain, and Wong, for one, thinks it might be around six more months before Hong returns.
Currently, Hong is focusing on recuperating from his fall with the support of his wife, son, and daughter, but has expressed his eagerness to come back once he has fully recovered.
Wong considers himself and Hong similar in being “workaholics”.
“If you suddenly ask us to stay at home, we will start to feel bored. We prefer to have something in our daily routine to keep [ourselves] occupied.”
Lim added that Hong has no intention to pass on his recipe to prospective buyers, and that Hong’s children are unlikely to take over the family business as both hold full-time jobs.
However, even though it means a longer separation from being able to taste Hong’s food again, Lim opined that he would rather Hong take his time in recovery, given the risks if Hong were to have another fall.
“Time will tell,” concluded Lim, about the future of Hong’s stall and its reopening.
I couldn’t help but wonder if his seemingly obvious statement belies a deeper wistfulness, as it is true that more and more old school hawkers are approaching or entering retirement.
Many of these hawkers retire without successors, which means that many more old school dishes from the past could become less accessible, or even disappear, over time.
I started off this piece wondering if it still held significance without Hong as an interviewee. That perspective changed the more I spoke to each customer and acquaintance of Hong’s.
It was clear that somehow, without having said too much more than a few brusque words, Hong had brought together a bunch of strangers across different generations, through his Cantonese-style zichar dishes.
This alone perhaps provides much insight into who Hong was, the respect he commanded from his community, and tells of what we have to look forward to if he does return to Chinatown one day.
The future of Hong's stall is uncertain, and maybe more broadly, there might really be a "drought" of authentic, old-school cuisines once more hawkers like Hong decide to fully retire.
But his story also shows that their legacy isn't lost forever, it can still be upheld and live on, in part, through the colourful portraits painted by those around them in the community.
Have something even more interesting going on in your neighbourhood? One-up us at firsthand@mothership.sg.
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Top images via Lim and Mothership