Besides abacus seeds, yong tau foo and, more recently, thunder tea rice, Hakka cuisine has largely remained a mystery to me. This, despite my mother being part-Hakka (the Peranakan side was more dominant). Coincidentally, my Makan Kaki, best actor winner at the recent Star Awards 2024 Jeremy Chan has a family connection, too – his mother-in-law (aka Jesseca Liu's mum) is also Hakka.
So he decided that we should visit what could be the last remaining Hakka eatery in Singapore – Plum Village Hakka Restaurant at Upper Thomson Road.
“I decided to name the restaurant Plum Village because we Hakka have five areas, just like the five petals of a plum blossom, hence 'Mei' (meaning plum). And coincidentally, my family is from Meixian district,” the spritely 78-year-old owner and chef, Mr Lai Fak Nian, explained in Mandarin.
His father started the restaurant in 1969 with several investors and a chef from Hong Kong. “Because my father was a member of the Hakka association, he heard about the chef who was trying to gather people to promote Hakka cuisine. My father was very interested, so together they set up a Hakka restaurant in Toa Payoh,” he said.
“Even though Singaporeans were not familiar with many Hakka dishes, I still decided to take the chance and try running the business. From the days in Toa Payoh up till now, it’s been 55 years.”
From left: Plum Village owner and chef Lai Fak Nian, Gold 905 DJ Denise Tan and actor Jeremy Chan. (Photo: Mediacorp)
In the early years and with little formal culinary training, he dedicated himself to learning all he could from scratch – frequently travelling to pick up tips from chefs, collecting recipes from friends and relatives, as well as sourcing for fresh ingredients in China.
Chef Lai’s gamble and hard work paid off – business boomed and to this day, the Plum Village decor seems locked in its heyday of the 1980s. Plastic lace tablecloths, ombre brown floor tiles, a ceiling festooned with lanterns and a faux brick feature wall plastered with old news clippings, Chinese calligraphy and paintings are a snapshot in time, #oldschoolvibes.
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
According to Singapore’s population census in 2020, nearly 10 per cent of the country’s Chinese population are Hakka, meaning “guest families”. Unlike other Han Chinese subgroups, the Hakkas are not named after a specific geographical location but historically, they migrated across China to escape upheavals and settled in southernmost regions. As nomadic peoples, their cuisine was influenced by other dialect groups, which makes Hakka food different, yet familiar.
As such, multi-generational Hakka families return to Plum Village for a taste of tradition, but they make a up a small percentage of Chef Lai’s customers. “They are mostly Cantonese and now I see more Hokkien customers, too,” he revealed.
Denise Tan and Jeremy Chan with Plum Village's Chef Lai, his family and the staff. (Photo: Denise Tan)
In this respect, he has stayed true to his father’s original purpose for the restaurant, thanks to the help of his wife, a handful of staff and assistant cooks. Where others may have retired years ago, Chef Lai seems tireless in his mission to keep Hakka culture alive in Singapore through food.
A feast awaited us when Jeremy and I visited Plum Village during Chinese New Year. Wanting to showcase some menu items typically available during the season, Chef Lai presented us with two Hakka versions of pen cai, the traditional festive dish from Hong Kong comprising multiple layers of ingredients cooked in an earthenware pot.
Plum Village's Chef Lai preparing our pen cai. (Photo: Mediacorp)
The first version appeared to be a simple but substantial soya bean-based soup packed with meatballs, fishballs, firm tofu, tofu puffs and bittergourd stuffed with a minced pork mixture. The latter ingredient is ku gua in Mandarin, ku meaning bitter.
“In the past, they liked to add bittergourd because of the symbolic meaning ‘ku jin gan lai’,” Chef Lai said, referencing the Chinese idiom which means when “bitterness finishes, sweetness begins” or “the hard times are over, the good times are just beginning”.
Plum Village's more traditional version of pen cai. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Indeed, the bittergourd released a sweetness after several chews, its generous meat stuffing a savoury foil for the bittersweet flavours. Jeremy praised the rustic dish for its homecooked feel, albeit served with a side of symbolism, making the pen cai literal food for thought.
When I commented that it looked like a large pot of soupy yong tau foo, Chef Lai agreed. “Yes, it’s the same. When this dish travelled southwards to Singapore, it took on another distinctive style. In the past, this was the traditional, homemade version of pen cai,” he said.
Taking another opportunity to propagate Hakka culture, Chef Lai continued: “Pen cai reflects the Hakkas’ communal living culture. Families would visit their ancestral shrines to pray and the women would bring food along. Since the men would usually stay to network, the women would leave behind a deep dish of food to feed them. This practice evolved to become the pen cai we know today.”
Plum Village's second (and more luxurious) version of pen cai. (Photo: Denise Tan)
The second version of pen cai we tried certainly looked more familiar. Chef Lai said, “Nowadays, this version is served during Chinese New Year. This dish became more luxurious as people got more affluent.”
Prosperity had finally replaced the years of struggle. More than just the flaunting of wealth, we were tasting the evolution of a food culture and the manifestation of the idiom “ku jin gan lai”.
The pen cai was overflowingly abundant – a whole chicken in broth nested under densely packed layers of pig stomach, crispy Hakka beancurd skin rolls, shitake mushrooms, napa cabbage, baby abalone, prawns, dried scallops, fresh scallops, oysters, sea cucumber, meatballs and fishballs.
Next level pen cai at Plum Village. (Photo: Mediacorp)
The collagen-rich broth had an emollient mouth feel, permeated with the robust flavours of its decadent ingredients. Jeremy declared the dish one of the best pen cai he had ever eaten. For me, a meal infused with meaning made it all the more delicious.
We skipped another famous Hakka dish, mei cai kou rou (braised pork belly with preserved vegetables) for a more seasonal, celebratory twist.
Chef Lai recommended we try hong men zhu rou (red braised pork), explaining: “There is a superstition that mei cai kou rou is inauspicious because of its dark colour and the word 'mei' sounds similar to the Mandarin word for unlucky. So, to make the dish more auspicious for Chinese New Year, hong qu and Hakka rice wine is added to the meat.”
Hakka red braised pork. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Hong qu, or red yeast rice, is often used as a natural food colouring due to its red (read: lucky) hue acquired during fermentation. This, along with garlic, sugar and Hakka glutinous rice wine gave the pork belly a distinctive taste.
The aromatic, scarlet chunks of fat-capped pork belly were tender and full of umami flavour, with a sweet and tangy whisper. Later, when I discovered that hong qu is also used in Traditional Chinese Medicine to lower cholesterol and improve digestion, I felt a little less guilty about overindulging.
Next and perhaps the most familiar Hakka dish of all was the yong tau foo, another example of how the cuisine has evolved through time. Some believe that it is an adaptation of the northern Chinese dumpling, created out of necessity by Hakkas travelling south having to substitute dough for tofu. "Yong" in Hakka means "to plant", since stuffing tofu with meat mimics the action of seed-planting.
Plum Village's Hakka yong tau foo. (Photo: Mediacorp)
At Plum Village, their fatty minced pork stuffing is given a “Nanyang” spin with a little fish paste for extra adhesiveness, fish sauce and tee poh (dried flat fish) powder for concentrated seafood flavour. The fried tofu had a firm, crisp crust protecting a soft and melty interior. The silky gravy, spiked with oyster sauce, drove home the point that this version of yong tau foo was invented by Hakkas who had migrated to the coastal regions of Southeast Asia.
Jeremy observed that each piece of tofu was substantial enough to withstand the heft of its stuffing. “Surprisingly, the meat holds together. The flavour is locked in. I didn’t know Hakka food can be so delicious,” he said.
There was a lot we both hadn’t known. Case in point: Hakka radish balls. A dish neither of us had heard of, unique to Chef Lai’s ancestral home of Meixian and one he’s been enjoying since childhood.
“This recipe was passed down by my paternal grandmother. During Chinese New Year or festive seasons, she would make this dish. One of the most traditional and rarer dishes. If you’re not from Meixian, you wouldn’t make it. In Singapore, it’s almost unheard of. But in Jakarta or Mauritius, it’s common because there are many Meixian Hakkas there,” he disclosed.
Denise and Jeremy learn to make radish balls under the watchful eye of Chef Lai. (Photo: Mediacorp)
So it was off to the Plum Village kitchen for a hands-on experience. There, we helped Chef Lai grate white radish, also known as daikon, then placed the shreds in a cloth bag to wring some of the moisture out. “You can’t have too much water content or the ball won’t hold its shape,” he said.
Giving us very precise measurements, Chef Lai added minced pork to the grated radish. For extra fragrance and flavour, dried cuttlefish shreds and ground dried shrimp (hae bee) followed, then seasonings of sugar, white pepper and fish sauce. “Add no more than one tablespoon because it’s very salty,” he instructed.
Next, tapioca starch to bind the ingredients, then we slowly mixed everything by hand before shaping, taking care not to pack each radish ball too tightly. “Don’t press it too hard. Keep it slightly loose for steam to get in, otherwise the meat inside may not cook thoroughly,” Chef Lai specified.
Steamed Hakka radish balls. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Pre-steamed Hakka radish balls. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Rolling the radish balls. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Less than 10 minutes later, our radish balls emerged with an almost crystalline gleam from the steamer. The unusual and unexpected texture surprised me the most. Slightly sticky and chewy, the meat was incredibly tender and umami.
The radish was also perfectly steamed – giving a little bite without being too mushy. Jeremy was impressed by the taste and fragrance of the dish. We also discovered that radish balls need to be eaten immediately. Left too long to cool, they turn solid and pasty.
Jeremy and Denise trying the Hakka radish balls they just made. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Chefs usually prefer to keep some kitchen secrets, so we were grateful to Chef Lai for sharing the recipe and guiding us through the entire process of cooking a dish we were unacquainted with. “That’s why whenever I conduct cooking classes, I make sure to include teaching this traditional dish. Otherwise, this recipe will be lost in the future,” he said earnestly.
Some may say that just like Chef Lai, the restaurant is in its twilight years, waning interest heralding the slow but inevitable demise of Hakka culture and cuisine in Singapore. But with the exception of the pandemic, nothing seems to have slowed the resilient owner down. There had been talk of his son taking over the business, but with no concrete succession plans in place, his strategy has shifted to education.
“I hope someone will want to take over. Cooking Hakka dishes is not easy. I’ve been teaching classes for 10 years so if someone is interested in starting a Hakka restaurant, they can,” he shared.
Jeremy Chan and Denise Tan's bonus treat from Plum Village's Chef Lai after their meal: Thumb drives of Hakka cooking tutorials. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Meanwhile, the venerable Chef Lai still has grit and desire to stay the course for a while longer. “My regulars are very happy when they come here. They are like my old friends. It’s because of this, though I’m old, I’m still here,” he said with a chuckle.
Undoubtedly, Chef Lai has been a constant at Plum Village Hakka Restaurant – the old school boss serving old school Hakka dishes at old school prices. For less than S$15 per person for a five-course set meal, including complimentary fried noodles, it’s clear he’s kept the business going for a higher purpose than profit.
He insisted on seeing Jeremy and me off with takeaways for our families and a thumb drive of his recent cooking tutorials each. It occurred to me that not only were we leaving with a fragment of Plum Village history, but we had also been gifted with a precious piece of Chef Lai’s legacy.
Plum Village Hakka Restaurant is located at 16 Jalan Leban, Singapore 577554. It’s open for lunch from 11am to 2.30pm and for dinner from 5 to 9 pm. It’s closed on Wednesdays.
Catch Makan Kakis with Denise Tan every Thursday from 11am on MediaCorp GOLD 905.
Continue reading...
So he decided that we should visit what could be the last remaining Hakka eatery in Singapore – Plum Village Hakka Restaurant at Upper Thomson Road.
“I decided to name the restaurant Plum Village because we Hakka have five areas, just like the five petals of a plum blossom, hence 'Mei' (meaning plum). And coincidentally, my family is from Meixian district,” the spritely 78-year-old owner and chef, Mr Lai Fak Nian, explained in Mandarin.
His father started the restaurant in 1969 with several investors and a chef from Hong Kong. “Because my father was a member of the Hakka association, he heard about the chef who was trying to gather people to promote Hakka cuisine. My father was very interested, so together they set up a Hakka restaurant in Toa Payoh,” he said.
“Even though Singaporeans were not familiar with many Hakka dishes, I still decided to take the chance and try running the business. From the days in Toa Payoh up till now, it’s been 55 years.”
From left: Plum Village owner and chef Lai Fak Nian, Gold 905 DJ Denise Tan and actor Jeremy Chan. (Photo: Mediacorp)
In the early years and with little formal culinary training, he dedicated himself to learning all he could from scratch – frequently travelling to pick up tips from chefs, collecting recipes from friends and relatives, as well as sourcing for fresh ingredients in China.
Chef Lai’s gamble and hard work paid off – business boomed and to this day, the Plum Village decor seems locked in its heyday of the 1980s. Plastic lace tablecloths, ombre brown floor tiles, a ceiling festooned with lanterns and a faux brick feature wall plastered with old news clippings, Chinese calligraphy and paintings are a snapshot in time, #oldschoolvibes.
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Plum Village restaurant. (Photo: Mediacorp)
According to Singapore’s population census in 2020, nearly 10 per cent of the country’s Chinese population are Hakka, meaning “guest families”. Unlike other Han Chinese subgroups, the Hakkas are not named after a specific geographical location but historically, they migrated across China to escape upheavals and settled in southernmost regions. As nomadic peoples, their cuisine was influenced by other dialect groups, which makes Hakka food different, yet familiar.
As such, multi-generational Hakka families return to Plum Village for a taste of tradition, but they make a up a small percentage of Chef Lai’s customers. “They are mostly Cantonese and now I see more Hokkien customers, too,” he revealed.
Denise Tan and Jeremy Chan with Plum Village's Chef Lai, his family and the staff. (Photo: Denise Tan)
In this respect, he has stayed true to his father’s original purpose for the restaurant, thanks to the help of his wife, a handful of staff and assistant cooks. Where others may have retired years ago, Chef Lai seems tireless in his mission to keep Hakka culture alive in Singapore through food.
A feast awaited us when Jeremy and I visited Plum Village during Chinese New Year. Wanting to showcase some menu items typically available during the season, Chef Lai presented us with two Hakka versions of pen cai, the traditional festive dish from Hong Kong comprising multiple layers of ingredients cooked in an earthenware pot.
Plum Village's Chef Lai preparing our pen cai. (Photo: Mediacorp)
The first version appeared to be a simple but substantial soya bean-based soup packed with meatballs, fishballs, firm tofu, tofu puffs and bittergourd stuffed with a minced pork mixture. The latter ingredient is ku gua in Mandarin, ku meaning bitter.
“In the past, they liked to add bittergourd because of the symbolic meaning ‘ku jin gan lai’,” Chef Lai said, referencing the Chinese idiom which means when “bitterness finishes, sweetness begins” or “the hard times are over, the good times are just beginning”.
Plum Village's more traditional version of pen cai. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Indeed, the bittergourd released a sweetness after several chews, its generous meat stuffing a savoury foil for the bittersweet flavours. Jeremy praised the rustic dish for its homecooked feel, albeit served with a side of symbolism, making the pen cai literal food for thought.
When I commented that it looked like a large pot of soupy yong tau foo, Chef Lai agreed. “Yes, it’s the same. When this dish travelled southwards to Singapore, it took on another distinctive style. In the past, this was the traditional, homemade version of pen cai,” he said.
Taking another opportunity to propagate Hakka culture, Chef Lai continued: “Pen cai reflects the Hakkas’ communal living culture. Families would visit their ancestral shrines to pray and the women would bring food along. Since the men would usually stay to network, the women would leave behind a deep dish of food to feed them. This practice evolved to become the pen cai we know today.”
Plum Village's second (and more luxurious) version of pen cai. (Photo: Denise Tan)
The second version of pen cai we tried certainly looked more familiar. Chef Lai said, “Nowadays, this version is served during Chinese New Year. This dish became more luxurious as people got more affluent.”
Prosperity had finally replaced the years of struggle. More than just the flaunting of wealth, we were tasting the evolution of a food culture and the manifestation of the idiom “ku jin gan lai”.
The pen cai was overflowingly abundant – a whole chicken in broth nested under densely packed layers of pig stomach, crispy Hakka beancurd skin rolls, shitake mushrooms, napa cabbage, baby abalone, prawns, dried scallops, fresh scallops, oysters, sea cucumber, meatballs and fishballs.
Next level pen cai at Plum Village. (Photo: Mediacorp)
The collagen-rich broth had an emollient mouth feel, permeated with the robust flavours of its decadent ingredients. Jeremy declared the dish one of the best pen cai he had ever eaten. For me, a meal infused with meaning made it all the more delicious.
We skipped another famous Hakka dish, mei cai kou rou (braised pork belly with preserved vegetables) for a more seasonal, celebratory twist.
Chef Lai recommended we try hong men zhu rou (red braised pork), explaining: “There is a superstition that mei cai kou rou is inauspicious because of its dark colour and the word 'mei' sounds similar to the Mandarin word for unlucky. So, to make the dish more auspicious for Chinese New Year, hong qu and Hakka rice wine is added to the meat.”
Hakka red braised pork. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Hong qu, or red yeast rice, is often used as a natural food colouring due to its red (read: lucky) hue acquired during fermentation. This, along with garlic, sugar and Hakka glutinous rice wine gave the pork belly a distinctive taste.
The aromatic, scarlet chunks of fat-capped pork belly were tender and full of umami flavour, with a sweet and tangy whisper. Later, when I discovered that hong qu is also used in Traditional Chinese Medicine to lower cholesterol and improve digestion, I felt a little less guilty about overindulging.
Next and perhaps the most familiar Hakka dish of all was the yong tau foo, another example of how the cuisine has evolved through time. Some believe that it is an adaptation of the northern Chinese dumpling, created out of necessity by Hakkas travelling south having to substitute dough for tofu. "Yong" in Hakka means "to plant", since stuffing tofu with meat mimics the action of seed-planting.
Plum Village's Hakka yong tau foo. (Photo: Mediacorp)
At Plum Village, their fatty minced pork stuffing is given a “Nanyang” spin with a little fish paste for extra adhesiveness, fish sauce and tee poh (dried flat fish) powder for concentrated seafood flavour. The fried tofu had a firm, crisp crust protecting a soft and melty interior. The silky gravy, spiked with oyster sauce, drove home the point that this version of yong tau foo was invented by Hakkas who had migrated to the coastal regions of Southeast Asia.
Jeremy observed that each piece of tofu was substantial enough to withstand the heft of its stuffing. “Surprisingly, the meat holds together. The flavour is locked in. I didn’t know Hakka food can be so delicious,” he said.
There was a lot we both hadn’t known. Case in point: Hakka radish balls. A dish neither of us had heard of, unique to Chef Lai’s ancestral home of Meixian and one he’s been enjoying since childhood.
“This recipe was passed down by my paternal grandmother. During Chinese New Year or festive seasons, she would make this dish. One of the most traditional and rarer dishes. If you’re not from Meixian, you wouldn’t make it. In Singapore, it’s almost unheard of. But in Jakarta or Mauritius, it’s common because there are many Meixian Hakkas there,” he disclosed.
Denise and Jeremy learn to make radish balls under the watchful eye of Chef Lai. (Photo: Mediacorp)
So it was off to the Plum Village kitchen for a hands-on experience. There, we helped Chef Lai grate white radish, also known as daikon, then placed the shreds in a cloth bag to wring some of the moisture out. “You can’t have too much water content or the ball won’t hold its shape,” he said.
Giving us very precise measurements, Chef Lai added minced pork to the grated radish. For extra fragrance and flavour, dried cuttlefish shreds and ground dried shrimp (hae bee) followed, then seasonings of sugar, white pepper and fish sauce. “Add no more than one tablespoon because it’s very salty,” he instructed.
Next, tapioca starch to bind the ingredients, then we slowly mixed everything by hand before shaping, taking care not to pack each radish ball too tightly. “Don’t press it too hard. Keep it slightly loose for steam to get in, otherwise the meat inside may not cook thoroughly,” Chef Lai specified.
Steamed Hakka radish balls. (Photo: Denise Tan)
Pre-steamed Hakka radish balls. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Rolling the radish balls. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Less than 10 minutes later, our radish balls emerged with an almost crystalline gleam from the steamer. The unusual and unexpected texture surprised me the most. Slightly sticky and chewy, the meat was incredibly tender and umami.
The radish was also perfectly steamed – giving a little bite without being too mushy. Jeremy was impressed by the taste and fragrance of the dish. We also discovered that radish balls need to be eaten immediately. Left too long to cool, they turn solid and pasty.
Jeremy and Denise trying the Hakka radish balls they just made. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Chefs usually prefer to keep some kitchen secrets, so we were grateful to Chef Lai for sharing the recipe and guiding us through the entire process of cooking a dish we were unacquainted with. “That’s why whenever I conduct cooking classes, I make sure to include teaching this traditional dish. Otherwise, this recipe will be lost in the future,” he said earnestly.
Some may say that just like Chef Lai, the restaurant is in its twilight years, waning interest heralding the slow but inevitable demise of Hakka culture and cuisine in Singapore. But with the exception of the pandemic, nothing seems to have slowed the resilient owner down. There had been talk of his son taking over the business, but with no concrete succession plans in place, his strategy has shifted to education.
“I hope someone will want to take over. Cooking Hakka dishes is not easy. I’ve been teaching classes for 10 years so if someone is interested in starting a Hakka restaurant, they can,” he shared.
Jeremy Chan and Denise Tan's bonus treat from Plum Village's Chef Lai after their meal: Thumb drives of Hakka cooking tutorials. (Photo: Mediacorp)
Meanwhile, the venerable Chef Lai still has grit and desire to stay the course for a while longer. “My regulars are very happy when they come here. They are like my old friends. It’s because of this, though I’m old, I’m still here,” he said with a chuckle.
Undoubtedly, Chef Lai has been a constant at Plum Village Hakka Restaurant – the old school boss serving old school Hakka dishes at old school prices. For less than S$15 per person for a five-course set meal, including complimentary fried noodles, it’s clear he’s kept the business going for a higher purpose than profit.
He insisted on seeing Jeremy and me off with takeaways for our families and a thumb drive of his recent cooking tutorials each. It occurred to me that not only were we leaving with a fragment of Plum Village history, but we had also been gifted with a precious piece of Chef Lai’s legacy.
Plum Village Hakka Restaurant is located at 16 Jalan Leban, Singapore 577554. It’s open for lunch from 11am to 2.30pm and for dinner from 5 to 9 pm. It’s closed on Wednesdays.
Catch Makan Kakis with Denise Tan every Thursday from 11am on MediaCorp GOLD 905.
Continue reading...