Food has always played a vital role in my life. I was raised in a family where it was seen as medicine, and a means to care for our bodies. Growing up, I nurtured a passion for cooking, and pursued food science and technology before working firsthand with food as a chef.
An initiation into the local scene
I landed my first culinary job at a European restaurant. It was my dream restaurant and I got to work with the best ingredients in the world–from gooseneck barnacles from Spain to A5 Miyazaki wagyu from Japan. Working here was an eye-opening experience but I soon felt disconnected from my own culture because I realised it wasn’t the kind of food I craved. My head chef would go on retreats around Southeast Asia, and upon his return, cook regional dishes like khao soi (Chiang Mai curry noodles) or a raw Balinese eggplant salad for staff meals. They were delicious, and I found myself responding to these foods differently from what I was used to making every day at the restaurant.
I think when you grow up with our local flavour palate, being acquainted with all the different textures gives a deeper resonance that other cuisines can’t offer. Those team meals really broadened my understanding of Asian food—it wasn’t just your usual stir-fry, Chinese soup, or pad thai. There was so much more to discover. With that new perspective, I applied for a job at Candlenut, the famed Peranakan restaurant.
Traditional Asian cuisine, whether it’s Chinese, Malay or Indian, has always been centred around balance and wellness
That was where I gained extensive exposure to working with local cuisine. It was a very formative experience for me—I learned techniques such as pecah minyak or how to fry a rempah, and worked with a variety of curries and sambals for, admittedly, the very first time. These are methods and flavours that weren’t written in any cookbook, but are so familiar and foundational to who we are, with Peranakan cuisine being one of the hallmarks of Singaporean culture. I wondered why it wasn’t put on the same pedestal European cuisine had, when food from our region was something that was emotionally resonant and held a quiet power I didn’t experience with other cuisines.
The turning point
I moved to Melbourne, Australia shortly after with my husband as he was posted there for work. That was when I started cooking a lot of local food. I had my fair share of experience with Peranakan dishes from my time at Candlenut, but it was in Melbourne where I started making hawker dishes like chicken rice and roti prata. Dishes like these were once so accessible and affordable in Singapore, but now no longer within reach. Moving overseas led me to delve into this part of our local food culture that I previously had no reason to do so.
Beyond giving me the push to discover different parts of our food culture, being away from home also cultivated an appreciation for it. When you grow up in an environment so deeply embedded in food culture and heritage, everything seems so pedestrian or ordinary. You don’t prize it because it’s taken for granted. Looking at it from an outsider’s point of view helped me understand what a privilege it is to have a nation of people so passionate about food and so diverse in their food culture.
Discovering local foods at the wet market
The idea for my first cookbook, Wet Market to Table, took shape while I was working at Candlenut. It was inspired by my husband and his family’s passion for growing fresh produce in their backyard. Seeing those greens for the first time made me realise that many of them could only be found at the wet market. That curiosity sparked a deeper interest—I began visiting the markets regularly to learn more about local ingredients and the stories behind them.
Through rain or shine, the wet market is open for business. A local equivalent to farmers’ markets, it’s a one-stop source for homegrown produce. If you go to the wet market regularly, you’ll not only stock up on groceries for the week, but also build connections with the sellers. Often seasoned vendors, they’ll passionately share their knowledge on local plants and vegetables, the best way to cook it and lived experiences you can’t find anywhere else. The beauty of the wet market is its hyperlocal nature—they respond to the community’s needs. Each market has a curation of specialised ingredients catering to the people that live around it. In our general climate that is highly regulated and manicured, the wet market provides a wonderful relief where you get to experience the organic, unruly side of Singapore.
It is at the wet market where you’ll discover local ingredients with a host of nutritional benefits. You may not find them at supermarkets, but it is part of our local traditions that the ones before us have long put into practice. Take ulam for example — regional herbs, flowers, and tender shoots that are high in fibre and nutritional benefits. Pulut hitam’s stark black colour signals it has lots of anthocyanines, an antioxidant. Ingredients like these also often support an entire ecosystem—the land is cared for and harvested by local farmers and indigenous groups. When you eat and recognise the health benefits of eating from your area, you really support the people who also grow and cultivate these types of produce.
When I cook myself a meal, how do I care for myself and the people around me through this food?
I currently host cooking classes in the Netherlands, where I’m now based. I teach recipes from my second cookbook Plantasia, which showcases Asia’s diversity through plant-forward dishes made with regional vegetables, techniques and traditions. This stemmed from my own journey of wanting to cut down on meat. It resonates well with the locals here, with Asian food gaining global recognition and interest and growing conversations on plant-based diets. Sentiments around health consciousness have definitely taken off in Singapore as well. We are seeing many people from the region looking to the West, towards ‘clean eating’ fads and replicating their diet. I think we’ll start seeing people being turned off by hawker centres, known for their oilier, meat-forward dishes, because of this. But I think that this idea that continental food is healthier and Asian food is not is a complete misconception.
The rise of the ‘clean eating’ fad
The term ‘clean eating’ never resonated with me. From a personal perspective, it divorces your food from the pleasures of the table and transforms it into another part of your life that you need to exert control over. My approach to food is seeing it as a form of luxury, which counters the idea of ‘clean eating’. It’s more aligned to a philosophy of self-care. When I cook myself a meal, how do I care for myself and the people around me through this food? That’s an act of service that I feel is slipping away in this fast-paced society. Growing up, my grandfather used to tell us that “in life we have to work hard, but we also have to eat well.” It’s this notion that we are able to build moments of luxury through the food we cook for ourselves and others.
Taking an approach of balance where it’s not about subtracting or restricting, but adding foods that are high in nutritional value alongside
Traditional Asian cuisine, whether it’s Chinese, Malay or Indian, has always been centred around balance and wellness. There is a high regard for texture and flavour, and it’s easy for a variety of different plants and greens to be presented at the dining table. We have such a deep sense of food as medicine that even our desserts are healthful. With the growing conversation around more health-conscious diets and putting wellness at the forefront of dining, it is worth looking within our traditional food cultures to see what lessons we can learn from local food philosophies.
Intertwining health and pleasure in food
While traditional cooking methods may not be regarded as the healthiest techniques, it will never be on the table of compromise for me. Forgoing them in favour of health would fundamentally change the flavour or texture of a dish, ultimately losing its essence. I think in this growing space of conscious eating, it’s really all about mindset. Taking an approach of balance where it’s not about subtracting or restricting, but adding foods that are high in nutritional value alongside.
To me, wellness is not just about losing or gaining weight, or how ‘clean’ something is. It’s a holistic approach to food, ensuring a balance of textures, flavours and local heritage alongside nutritional value. Gradually discovering what is delicious and beneficial for me creates a sense of intuition, where health and pleasure are not parallel but intertwined with one another. The goal for Plantasia was not to submit into a new diet of more vegetables, but to coach others from a different perspective of deliciousness and opening doors to come on this journey. That’s how I think we become fulfilled and empowered to make the right choices for ourselves.
The November issue of Vogue Singapore—themed ‘Nourish’—is available online and on newsstands.
