"WE'RE not big vegetable eaters!" confesses Celleste Kok a little shamefacedly. Eyebrows raised, I look at her incredulously as she proceeds with yet another truth-bomb: "I've never planted anything before." A pause, and she punctuates her revelation with another vehement: "Never!"
Those are damning revelations indeed. And Roy Liew looks on bemusedly as his wife shakes her head, chuckling sheepishly. It's hard to imagine, she adds, that she's spending most of her time in this modest shoplot tucked away in Puchong, growing leafy greens. "I never thought we'd end up being 'farmers' of sorts!"
But her version of "farming" is far from traditional. There are no picturesque, rolling fields, no tractors tilling soil; there's no white farmhouse or red barn. For that matter, there's no soil, or sunlight.
Instead, the couple's farm, Vegetory, is ensconced within a nondescript shoplot. The affable Liew greets me at the door and then proceeds to tell me to remove my shoes and use the slippers provided. A waft of cool air-conditioned breeze hits me as I step gingerly into the laboratory-like interior. This isn't the type of '"farm" I'd been envisaging.
Inside the rather clinical-looking room, Liew introduces me to his wife who flashes me a warm smile over a large stainless-steel table filled with bright green leafy vegetables that she's in the midst of packing into small nifty packages — ready to go and eat.
Further back is another room where the action really takes place. Here, beautifully arranged rows of arugula and kale alongside a variety of lettuce grow together in harmony under the glow of an LED light.
Water infused with nutrients trickles on to the green towers, keeping the rosettes hydrated and fed. The ability to grow in such a small space is the result of hydroponics, a system in which a plant's roots sit in nutrient-rich water instead of soil. Microgreens — the first, tiny greens on plants like lettuce — can go from seed to harvest in less than two weeks.
"We call it a plant factory," explains Liew, grinning. Ah, I'm not surprised. There's nothing here that resembles a "farm". My vegetable uncle whom I buy my green supplies from would be completely mystified at this set-up.
What kind of sorcery is this? No sun, no soil, no pests and picture-perfect leafy vegetables that would be right at home within the most high-brow salad bowls or gilded plates at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Continues Liew: "We produce the plants using factory methods. Growing outdoors is more challenging than ever before, especially when you layer in the increasing volatility of weather and climate change, and issues of food safety and pesticides. This method gives us control over a lot of these variables."
This approach, Liew adds, produces crops in closed environments in which all the important elements needed for plant growth — air, light, nutrients and water — are artificially controlled.
"A plant factory is a closed growing environment in which air conditioning and lighting sources such as fluorescent lamps and light-emitting diodes, or LEDs, are used to replace natural ventilation and sunlight," he explains, adding: "Temperature and humidity are also carefully adjusted so that the effects of detrimental weather conditions can be eliminated."
As a result, any kind of produce can be cultivated in areas with harsh climates as long as there's a sufficient supply of water and electricity. "Put simply, a plant factory can produce crops of consistent quality and guarantee a steady year-round harvest." These characteristics, he points out, are quite similar to those of a factory in the industrial sector.
By "pulling certain levers", as Liew explains — experimenting with nutrients, light and growing time to maximise a plant's nutrient absorption rate — Vegetory is working at packing more good-for-you elements into each kale or lettuce leaf, surpassing the abilities of traditional farms, which are reliant on sunshine and soil.
TASTE OF THE UNEXPECTED
It's a lot to absorb. I mean, my only brush with farming was when I attempted to grow lettuce and okra from my balcony during the first lockdown last year. My lettuce failed to sprout and my okra produced one straggly pod before withering altogether. It wasn't the climate or the soil that did my plants in. The only "variable" I forgot to take into account was my forgetfulness — I simply forgot to water my plants.
I regale the couple with my failed attempts at gardening and am rewarded with loud guffaws. In an earnest attempt to comfort me, Kok offers another revelation: "I didn't even know what a lettuce seed looked like until Vegetory happened!"
She looks half-beseechingly at me before breaking into laughter. "It's true!" she exclaims. "I mean, look at me now! I'm a farmer!" Eyes sparkling, she's clearly enjoying her role as partner in this venture with her husband.
They were meat-eaters, both confess to me readily. "We weren't into salads or greens at all!" reveals Liew candidly. I don't blame him. I'm not a big fan of salads myself. The kind of lettuce that's being sold hardly inspires any confidence at all.
Wilted lettuce, organic greens with tiny snails or fertiliser-soaked leaves aren't exactly the sort of things I'd want on my plate. I'm also definitely not a lettuce fan at all, I confess.
"Oh but you must try ours!" urges Liew, beckoning his wife to prepare some for me to try. A large salad bowl is already on the table. The bespectacled man is keen for a "show and tell" and looks almost gleeful at the prospect of converting yet another meat-lover to the joys of eating greens.
Tossing the bright green leaves with a little balsamic dressing, they pass me a fork and look on eagerly as I try their lettuce and arugula. It's a little unsettling to have both pairs of eyes looking on as I attempt to stuff my mouth with a forkful of lettuce and arugula.
"How?" blurts out Kok, unable to stop herself. "Crunchy?" asks the 41-year-old Liew. The lettuce is crunchy and sweet. They smile. "The colour, the thickness of the leaves, the shape — we take everything into consideration," he says in between mouthfuls of greens. "I'm converted," I concede, to their delight.
That's how they felt, Liew shares, when they visited Taiwan years ago. "We were on a business trip," he recalls, adding: "My business principal took us out for dinner at a restaurant one day and we were served a big bowl of salad. We weren't exactly enthusiastic but of course lah what he served, we had to eat!"
Liew's experience of eating salad hadn't been all that pleasant in the past. "I mean, why would I want to eat something that's bitter, wilted and so hard to chew or swallow?" But they found themselves finishing the entire salad bowl. "We didn't even realise that we finished the entire bowl!" adds Kok, chuckling.
"The taste was amazing!" her husband chips in. "The taste was very different. Who would've thought that lettuce would be that tasty? We soon discovered that the restaurant was operated by a plant factory company. We were intrigued and made it a point to visit their factory. Coming from a technical background, I was more than interested. I mean, when technology meets agriculture, the possibilities are endless!"
NEW DREAM
The couple, who met at secondary school, never dreamt that they'd venture into agriculture. "Like I said, I never planted anything before!" exclaims Kok, grinning. She was a computer science graduate "…with no dreams except to get a job and earn a salary!"
Liew, on the other hand, who had a degree in micro-electronics, initially wanted to work in a big multinational corporation and technology company. When that didn't pan out, he became a sales engineer and soon hankered to go into business "…just like any other Chinaman lah!"
He eventually started his owns business where he sold and serviced scientific and cleaning-related equipment. He soon moved into the Food Front-end process equipment industry, selling high-end extraction equipment that could extract essential ingredients and oils from plants.
But he realised that while he had very good machines, having a consistent supply of raw materials (the plants) often became an issue. "I wondered if there was any technology out there that could help produce a consistent output of good quality raw material. So yes, I'd been thinking about it for a while," he recalls.
The trip to Taiwan and the couple's visit to the plant factory gave Liew the boost he needed to venture into something he had already been mulling over. "A lightbulb just lit up!" he exclaims. "It felt like a natural progression to venture into vertical farming."
The plant factory in Taiwan was more than happy to help Liew set up. "Oh, they were very helpful," he enthuses, adding: "They were more than willing to share their knowledge and supported us with our set-up."
"Was it something you wanted to do?" I turn to Kok. "My dream was to own a cafe or run my own little shop," she replies, smiling. "When my husband spoke to me about opening a plant factory, I was a little skeptical. I mean, it's agriculture. Every day have to work one!"
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she'd asked him. "I mean, we've never planted anything, we aren't salad lovers and we hardly eat vegetables!"
She didn't even know that lettuce came from a seed, she confesses with another burst of laughter. "We really had to start from scratch!" she says. But she had faith in his business acumen. "What I didn't have faith in was my ability to plant anything!" she quips cheekily.
MOVING FORWARD
Vegetory was birthed at the end of 2016. But the following year was devoted to intense research and development. Nothing came easy. And plants, just like infants, needed a lot of time and effort put in.
"It's not as simple as just setting up a business. We needed to understand the climate, the plant and everything. While we were given all the help and advice from our counterparts in Taiwan and Japan, there were still many factors and variables unique to our country that we needed to take into account," shares Liew, quipping that it also involved "speaking to the plants!"
You spoke to your plants? I repeat incredulously. "We speak lah but the plants never respond!" he replies, chuckling. Were there any failures? "Oh, many!" he exclaims. "There are so many factors that could cause a plant to deteriorate and there were so many questions we needed to solve by ourselves."
The journey was difficult before they finally hit the magic formula. "We couldn't give up," he adds. "We'd already put in a lot of investment into setting up the factory." They finally found the ideal "growth recipe" to grow these plants within the time frame that they wanted, to achieve the ideal weight as well as the desired colour, thickness of leaf and taste. "Everything," asserts Liew, "was important. That's how we're different from traditional farming where such things can't be assured."
By 2018, Vegetory was up and running. There was no turning back.
Vegetory was initially supplying their produce to restaurants but the pandemic had upended that temporarily. "Business was affected but we didn't stop production. Our surplus stocks were donated to charity of course," he recalls. Business bounced back when they decided to sell to consumers directly.
The timing was right. People were now looking into buying fresh pesticide-free produce and Vegetory's reputation grew by word of mouth. "We received good feedback and repeat orders. We also took the time to do a lot of marketing during the lockdown. That helped a lot!" adds Liew.
The couple, who has two children, shares that hard work does indeed pay off. "Our children are also modern farmers. I mean, we spent the initial year working late nights with our children in tow while researching and finding the perfect growth recipe for our plants!" recalls Kok, smiling. From just the two of them, Vegetory now employs five people to help with the vertical farm, harvesting and packing.
They've spread their wings since then. They now have a vertical farming section at the grocer within Bangsar Shopping Centre where consumers can select and pick leafy vegetables ripe for the picking. The response, chips in Kok, has been encouraging.
And there's more plans in the pipelines. After all, the couple has big dreams. "We have a social mission and part of that is to go into more neighbourhoods and eliminate food deserts," he declares, adding that they want to encourage more city folks to eat more greens.
Consumer demand for locally-grown food is on the rise and Vegetory, says Liew, holds the answer to having fresh produce in the city and right on the plates of people. "I'd like to think of it as a plant revolution of sorts," he states. Who would've thought that urban folks might have the opportunity of going to their neighbourhood grocers and picking out their own produce from a "farm"?
"I'm a science person so I love technology. But when I first heard about growing food this way, I was intrigued," continues Liew. As we settle down to eat the rest of the salad, he concludes: "What I found was that we brought to this a shared purpose and a shared passion for great food. It's in there. You can taste it!"
For more information, visit www.vegetory.com.my.