Remember Saveur, the casual French-inspired eatery where you could get duck confit with mash for S$11.90 and foie gras on a bed of puy lentils for S$13.90?
When chef Dylan Ong conceptualised it in 2010 at the age of 23, his vision was to serve “affordable food for the masses”, he recalled. That’s why his next restaurant after wrapping up at Saveur was literally named The Masses.
The Masses recently moved from Beach Road to Capitol Singapore, and in the space where it used to be, Ong has opened a new concept. Retro-chic with Mandarin and Hokkien karaoke classics blasting, Choon Hoy Parlor serves up what he calls “Singapore soul food” – the dishes he grew up eating and loving.
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
It’s close to his heart not just because of the cuisine – a departure from the French cooking he was trained in and the “Franco-Asian” dishes he offers at The Masses – but also because it’s a heartfelt tribute to his mum: Choon Hoy Parlor is named after her.
Initially, when thinking about starting a second concept, he was planning on doing Asian tapas. But when the thought came to him of bringing heirloom recipes to life instead, it felt right. He roped in Benji Chew, one of the chefs at The Masses; and Renee Tang, formerly of Jelebu Dry Laksa, to present their own dishes under his mentorship.
“Of course, deep in my heart, I was afraid. Because it's not easy to do heritage dishes. Either you do it well, or it's shit. There's no in-between,” he said.
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong (far right) with Benji Chew and Renee Tang. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
But all three chefs feel that cooking dishes like the roasted pork belly (S$13.90), yam and pumpkin fritters (S$6.90 for three), a whole Hainanese kampung chicken (S$27.90) and Jelebu Dry Laksa v2.0 (S$12.90) offered at Choon Hoy Parlour is a necessary expression of their core identity.
Chef Benji Chew's "Our rojak, our own way" (S$8.90): Rojak ice cream, Japanese cucumber, roseapple, jicama, youtiao, century egg, ginger flower. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
“I've worked in Italian and French restaurants, but my favourite is still my mother's cooking. That's my roots,” said Chew, whose parents ran a zi char stall and later a rojak stall in her native Malaysia.
Jelebu Dry Laksa V2.0 by chef Renee Tang has cockles and more wok hei than before. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
Tang said: “I grew up in a huge household and we always had at least two soups on the table, and seven or eight dishes. I think the comfort of eating with people you love stays very close to me. These kinds of dishes remind me of my upbringing and the bond between family members… they have stuck with me and I want to share that nostalgic feeling.”
Similarly for Ong, dishes like braised duck and pig trotter jelly are tied to memories of his mother, along with the many soups she cooked such as pig stomach soup.
(Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
And because he came from humble beginnings, he never forgets the gifts his mother gave him: Perseverance, hard work and an uncomplaining spirit.
GROWING UP, FINDING DIRECTION
Ong, 37, recalls running naked as an infant around Whampoa hawker centre, where his parents’ kway chap stall was located. As he grew older, he helped out by doing the washing and serving; as well as slicing chillies, cleaning intestines and skimming soup.
With that experience under his belt, “Nothing fazes you,” he chuckled. “You think plumbers are sexy? You haven’t seen chefs. We have no qualms – I’m willing to go down to the dirty parts. It shapes us so that we can survive in any environment.”
Dylan Ong with his parents as a child. His father died of illness when Ong was 18. (Photo: Dylan Ong)
When he was 15, his father became ill and the stall shuttered. His mother took on three jobs to support the family, working from morning to night.
“Once, I saw her collecting plates at a hawker centre in Toa Payoh. That moment was tough. It was very emotional. My heart broke.”
During that period of time, “I felt very ashamed that my family was poor. When I saw my friends, it felt like there was always a societal gap. I felt ashamed to invite my friends to my house. I felt inadequate; lacking.”
He got into bad company, and even ran afoul of the law.
Things came to a head when he was detained by the authorities for 48 hours. “My mother was wondering if I was alive or dead. My uncle bailed me out for a lot of money he couldn't afford,” he recounted.
When he was finally on his way home, “I thought she would give it to me." But, receiving him as he pulled up in a taxi, “She just handed me some food and said, ‘Go home and eat. I have to go to work.’ I went home. Then, imagine, when you’re already sad, you see your father ill in bed. I thought, ‘What am I doing with my life?”
From then on, “I gathered the courage to step out. I wanted to reform my life”.
A recent picture of Ong with his mother (Photo: Dylan Ong)
He had been attending a church for a while when someone he barely knew gave him a set of Victorinox knives, saying, “‘Dylan, I feel this is what God wants you to do’”. Unbeknownst to that person, Ong was already obsessively reading books by Gordon Ramsay and watching Jamie Oliver cooking on TV. From studying engineering, he switched to a culinary course, enrolling in SHATEC.
After gaining work experience at Raffles Hotel and Flutes as part of his studies, he applied to internships in France and Australia. But he didn’t end up going as his mum suffered a stroke.
Later, when her health improved, Ong, inspired by the success of eateries like Aston’s and The French Stall, as well Singapore zi char being featured in The New York Times, decided he wanted to open a stall serving accessible French dishes.
For funding, “I went to all my aunts. The richest one told me she thought I'd lose interest after a while. I don't blame her. I don't think I believed in myself, either.” In the end, his mother gave him S$7,000. “It wasn’t hard to convince my mum, because she loved me. She said, ‘This is all I have.’”
Saveur opened as a stall in a coffeeshop in Joo Chiat. (Photo: Dylan Ong)
In the first month, there were no customers, in spite of the red gingham tablecloths laid out in expectation. Even the neighbouring hawker aunties felt sorry for him and his partner. But the two young chefs were willing to go the extra mile, even re-opening the stall after it closed for a single diner.
Saveur grew from a kopitiam stall in Joo Chiat to a full-fledged restaurant in Purvis Street with queues of people waiting outside each day to dine. Subsequently, it also had a presence at Far East Plaza, The Cathay and Ion Orchard. “It did well… We were the first in the market to do stuff like that,” said Ong of his S$8.90 salmon confit and pasta inspired by bak chor mee.
“But, I was young and learning how to manage a restaurant.”
A PERSONAL REVOLUTION
Even after Saveur started losing money and closed, and Ong opened The Masses, he worked hard to keep his food affordable. The restaurant recently relocated to the Capitol, but he refused to increase prices.
How does he manage it? “By constantly searching for suppliers who can offer better prices” but still match quality, such as fish that comes directly from Malaysia, he said.
“It is a very fine line. The room for error is very small. But, I’m willing to risk it,” he admitted. Last year, “We were constantly making losses. I put in my own savings.” He even considered selling his house to fund the restaurant. “I even thought about where my kids would live,” he said.
Why? “Because staying true to what I believe gives me courage. I want to be true to my vision. Being true means I need to go through the valleys. I know restaurants will always be like that. I’ve been through it. I always believe it's not how big the wave is; it's how skilled the sailor is.”
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Part of it is his sense of responsibility towards the team members who have worked with him for many years. “I told them, ‘I will never let it fail. Don’t worry about low sales. Just remember our core and that we’re not here for the short term. I see how dishes evolve; how we can do exciting stuff, from one short rib to a whole hog. Of course, there are periods where we lose money, but I know I can turn it around. As long as we stick together, we will always figure a way out.”
How does he respond to naysayers who opine that that might be wishful thinking in this economy, where people are eating out less and spending less and it is difficult to hire, train and retain staff?
“They are not the ones who inspire me,” he said.
He explained that he, Chew and Tang “don't come from well-to-do families. We know what it feels to have only this amount. If I can just survive by going against the wave, I will do it. It's like my revolution, a revolt.”
A FUTURE FOR SINGAPORE FOOD
In the future, Ong hopes to come full circle.
“When I asked ChatGPT, ‘What is Singapore soul food?’, it talked about hawker food. I thought, ‘It’s not true, though. Hawker food is a mixed bag. It’s in a rut.’”
Mini fried pomfret with plum taucheong dip (S$7.90 for five pieces). (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
When the time is right, he said, “I will go back to the hawker centres and do a whole new level of hawker food – doing the best I can to bring people authentic hawker favourites.”
He’ll do that by engineering ways to make the job “easier, not so strenuous, but still delivering quality, so that young people will want to take on the job. How do you make it so that young chefs have the passion to grow the hawker scene in a different manner, while upholding our hawker heritage? It can be done.”
For example, he thinks, chicken rice doesn’t have to be prepared according to older methods. Sous-vide, marinated chicken will taste the same; rice can be prepared in an automated cooker with an oil that results in a mouthfeel of individual grains; and “all you’d need to do is carve the chicken and scoop the rice”.
Char siew could be made on a kebab machine instead of flipping meat around in a drum oven. “So much heat in your face – who would want to do it?”
Yuzu cheng tng (S$13.90) with red dates, goji, longan, white fungus and sea coconut. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
It is possible, he asserted, “to bring hawker food to another level while keeping the traditional flavours. We don't have to go with the older methods.”
Is he committed to this because hawker food is part of the Singaporean identity? “Yes – but also the fact that hawker food is the only food that people who have not much income can afford,” Ong said.
Motivation comes from cooking good food and feeding people well. As a chef, “There's nothing else I'm good at or want to do.”
Choon Hoy Parlor is at 85 Beach Road #01-02, Singapore 189694.
Continue reading...
When chef Dylan Ong conceptualised it in 2010 at the age of 23, his vision was to serve “affordable food for the masses”, he recalled. That’s why his next restaurant after wrapping up at Saveur was literally named The Masses.
The Masses recently moved from Beach Road to Capitol Singapore, and in the space where it used to be, Ong has opened a new concept. Retro-chic with Mandarin and Hokkien karaoke classics blasting, Choon Hoy Parlor serves up what he calls “Singapore soul food” – the dishes he grew up eating and loving.
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor along Beach Road. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
It’s close to his heart not just because of the cuisine – a departure from the French cooking he was trained in and the “Franco-Asian” dishes he offers at The Masses – but also because it’s a heartfelt tribute to his mum: Choon Hoy Parlor is named after her.
Initially, when thinking about starting a second concept, he was planning on doing Asian tapas. But when the thought came to him of bringing heirloom recipes to life instead, it felt right. He roped in Benji Chew, one of the chefs at The Masses; and Renee Tang, formerly of Jelebu Dry Laksa, to present their own dishes under his mentorship.
“Of course, deep in my heart, I was afraid. Because it's not easy to do heritage dishes. Either you do it well, or it's shit. There's no in-between,” he said.
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong (far right) with Benji Chew and Renee Tang. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
But all three chefs feel that cooking dishes like the roasted pork belly (S$13.90), yam and pumpkin fritters (S$6.90 for three), a whole Hainanese kampung chicken (S$27.90) and Jelebu Dry Laksa v2.0 (S$12.90) offered at Choon Hoy Parlour is a necessary expression of their core identity.
Chef Benji Chew's "Our rojak, our own way" (S$8.90): Rojak ice cream, Japanese cucumber, roseapple, jicama, youtiao, century egg, ginger flower. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
“I've worked in Italian and French restaurants, but my favourite is still my mother's cooking. That's my roots,” said Chew, whose parents ran a zi char stall and later a rojak stall in her native Malaysia.
Jelebu Dry Laksa V2.0 by chef Renee Tang has cockles and more wok hei than before. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
Tang said: “I grew up in a huge household and we always had at least two soups on the table, and seven or eight dishes. I think the comfort of eating with people you love stays very close to me. These kinds of dishes remind me of my upbringing and the bond between family members… they have stuck with me and I want to share that nostalgic feeling.”
Similarly for Ong, dishes like braised duck and pig trotter jelly are tied to memories of his mother, along with the many soups she cooked such as pig stomach soup.
(Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
And because he came from humble beginnings, he never forgets the gifts his mother gave him: Perseverance, hard work and an uncomplaining spirit.
GROWING UP, FINDING DIRECTION
Ong, 37, recalls running naked as an infant around Whampoa hawker centre, where his parents’ kway chap stall was located. As he grew older, he helped out by doing the washing and serving; as well as slicing chillies, cleaning intestines and skimming soup.
With that experience under his belt, “Nothing fazes you,” he chuckled. “You think plumbers are sexy? You haven’t seen chefs. We have no qualms – I’m willing to go down to the dirty parts. It shapes us so that we can survive in any environment.”
Dylan Ong with his parents as a child. His father died of illness when Ong was 18. (Photo: Dylan Ong)
When he was 15, his father became ill and the stall shuttered. His mother took on three jobs to support the family, working from morning to night.
“Once, I saw her collecting plates at a hawker centre in Toa Payoh. That moment was tough. It was very emotional. My heart broke.”
During that period of time, “I felt very ashamed that my family was poor. When I saw my friends, it felt like there was always a societal gap. I felt ashamed to invite my friends to my house. I felt inadequate; lacking.”
He got into bad company, and even ran afoul of the law.
Things came to a head when he was detained by the authorities for 48 hours. “My mother was wondering if I was alive or dead. My uncle bailed me out for a lot of money he couldn't afford,” he recounted.
When he was finally on his way home, “I thought she would give it to me." But, receiving him as he pulled up in a taxi, “She just handed me some food and said, ‘Go home and eat. I have to go to work.’ I went home. Then, imagine, when you’re already sad, you see your father ill in bed. I thought, ‘What am I doing with my life?”
From then on, “I gathered the courage to step out. I wanted to reform my life”.
A recent picture of Ong with his mother (Photo: Dylan Ong)
He had been attending a church for a while when someone he barely knew gave him a set of Victorinox knives, saying, “‘Dylan, I feel this is what God wants you to do’”. Unbeknownst to that person, Ong was already obsessively reading books by Gordon Ramsay and watching Jamie Oliver cooking on TV. From studying engineering, he switched to a culinary course, enrolling in SHATEC.
After gaining work experience at Raffles Hotel and Flutes as part of his studies, he applied to internships in France and Australia. But he didn’t end up going as his mum suffered a stroke.
Later, when her health improved, Ong, inspired by the success of eateries like Aston’s and The French Stall, as well Singapore zi char being featured in The New York Times, decided he wanted to open a stall serving accessible French dishes.
For funding, “I went to all my aunts. The richest one told me she thought I'd lose interest after a while. I don't blame her. I don't think I believed in myself, either.” In the end, his mother gave him S$7,000. “It wasn’t hard to convince my mum, because she loved me. She said, ‘This is all I have.’”
Saveur opened as a stall in a coffeeshop in Joo Chiat. (Photo: Dylan Ong)
In the first month, there were no customers, in spite of the red gingham tablecloths laid out in expectation. Even the neighbouring hawker aunties felt sorry for him and his partner. But the two young chefs were willing to go the extra mile, even re-opening the stall after it closed for a single diner.
Saveur grew from a kopitiam stall in Joo Chiat to a full-fledged restaurant in Purvis Street with queues of people waiting outside each day to dine. Subsequently, it also had a presence at Far East Plaza, The Cathay and Ion Orchard. “It did well… We were the first in the market to do stuff like that,” said Ong of his S$8.90 salmon confit and pasta inspired by bak chor mee.
“But, I was young and learning how to manage a restaurant.”
A PERSONAL REVOLUTION
Even after Saveur started losing money and closed, and Ong opened The Masses, he worked hard to keep his food affordable. The restaurant recently relocated to the Capitol, but he refused to increase prices.
How does he manage it? “By constantly searching for suppliers who can offer better prices” but still match quality, such as fish that comes directly from Malaysia, he said.
“It is a very fine line. The room for error is very small. But, I’m willing to risk it,” he admitted. Last year, “We were constantly making losses. I put in my own savings.” He even considered selling his house to fund the restaurant. “I even thought about where my kids would live,” he said.
Why? “Because staying true to what I believe gives me courage. I want to be true to my vision. Being true means I need to go through the valleys. I know restaurants will always be like that. I’ve been through it. I always believe it's not how big the wave is; it's how skilled the sailor is.”
Choon Hoy Parlor's Dylan Ong. (Photo: CNA/Aik Chen)
Part of it is his sense of responsibility towards the team members who have worked with him for many years. “I told them, ‘I will never let it fail. Don’t worry about low sales. Just remember our core and that we’re not here for the short term. I see how dishes evolve; how we can do exciting stuff, from one short rib to a whole hog. Of course, there are periods where we lose money, but I know I can turn it around. As long as we stick together, we will always figure a way out.”
How does he respond to naysayers who opine that that might be wishful thinking in this economy, where people are eating out less and spending less and it is difficult to hire, train and retain staff?
“They are not the ones who inspire me,” he said.
He explained that he, Chew and Tang “don't come from well-to-do families. We know what it feels to have only this amount. If I can just survive by going against the wave, I will do it. It's like my revolution, a revolt.”
A FUTURE FOR SINGAPORE FOOD
In the future, Ong hopes to come full circle.
“When I asked ChatGPT, ‘What is Singapore soul food?’, it talked about hawker food. I thought, ‘It’s not true, though. Hawker food is a mixed bag. It’s in a rut.’”
Mini fried pomfret with plum taucheong dip (S$7.90 for five pieces). (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
When the time is right, he said, “I will go back to the hawker centres and do a whole new level of hawker food – doing the best I can to bring people authentic hawker favourites.”
He’ll do that by engineering ways to make the job “easier, not so strenuous, but still delivering quality, so that young people will want to take on the job. How do you make it so that young chefs have the passion to grow the hawker scene in a different manner, while upholding our hawker heritage? It can be done.”
For example, he thinks, chicken rice doesn’t have to be prepared according to older methods. Sous-vide, marinated chicken will taste the same; rice can be prepared in an automated cooker with an oil that results in a mouthfeel of individual grains; and “all you’d need to do is carve the chicken and scoop the rice”.
Char siew could be made on a kebab machine instead of flipping meat around in a drum oven. “So much heat in your face – who would want to do it?”
Yuzu cheng tng (S$13.90) with red dates, goji, longan, white fungus and sea coconut. (Photo: Choon Hoy Parlor)
It is possible, he asserted, “to bring hawker food to another level while keeping the traditional flavours. We don't have to go with the older methods.”
Is he committed to this because hawker food is part of the Singaporean identity? “Yes – but also the fact that hawker food is the only food that people who have not much income can afford,” Ong said.
Motivation comes from cooking good food and feeding people well. As a chef, “There's nothing else I'm good at or want to do.”
Choon Hoy Parlor is at 85 Beach Road #01-02, Singapore 189694.
Continue reading...