THERE'S something particularly satisfying about being served a steaming plate of noodles by an uncle manning a roadside stall, all while perched on a rickety stool that seems ready to collapse under your weight.
"Mau kerang ah? (Do you want cockles?)" the elderly man asked when taking my order earlier, as he lifted his head to look at me briefly before returning his attention to the fiery wok in front of him.
The air is infused with an aroma of wok hei, spices and sizzling meat; it didn't matter that I was seated precariously by the side of the road. The smog from the heavy traffic whizzing past me didn't matter either. What mattered was that his plate of noodles was the exact kind of comfort food I was looking for.
Hawkers have long been a fundamental part of our nation's food heritage. The tradition of itinerant food sellers, mostly immigrants, can be traced back to the mid-19th century in the Straits Settlements of Penang and Melaka, and probably even earlier in the Malay states.
In a separate but parallel development, Singapore's hawker culture, emerging around the same time in the 1800s, saw early migrants selling quick, affordable meals in various public spaces.
This phenomenon laid the foundation for a unique food culture that has become deeply intertwined with the evolving stories of both Malaysia and Singapore.
Indeed, the stories that these diligent hawkers could share would be rich with tales of their struggles, the history they've witnessed, and the evolution of their cuisine as it adapted to the tastes of their adopted countries.
Their experiences embody not just their personal journeys, but also the broader narrative of cultural integration and culinary innovation in Malaysia and Singapore.
This is why I found myself instantly attracted to Tan Chew Ngee's maiden literary offering, Sweet Braised Duck. The book served as a kind of homage to her father, who, for decades, has been a dedicated hawker of the traditional Teochew braised duck rice in Singapore.
Her father had rented an old-style kopitiam for his business in the initial years, she writes in her introduction, before moving to a stall in a market. "It's a family business and my mother has been his greatest help," she recalls.
Adding, she says: "My parents work hard at the stall to keep the business going. They raised their four children with the money earned, always planning and saving for us. We're grateful we never have to go hungry. In fact, we always have more than enough."
At her book launch during the recent Singapore Writers Festival, Tan revealed her deep interest in the narratives of seasoned hawkers. "The stories of these time-honoured street vendors have always captivated me," she shared, adding: "Particularly my father's story, as he's been a hawker for the better part of his life."
JOURNEY BEGINS
Sweet Braised Duck narrates the story of Kuang, a young boy of 5 from Shantou, China.
Driven by abject poverty and fuelled by aspirations for a better life overseas, Kuang, accompanied by his mother, sets out on a dangerous sea journey to Singapore.
This voyage is a step towards reuniting with Kuang's father, Ah Beh, who'd earlier moved to Singapore to carve out a livelihood and support his family back in China.
The story reaches a poignant moment when Kuang and his mother, Ah Mm, finally meet Ah Beh at the Singapore port, marking the beginning of their new life together.
The story of Kuang mirrors the real-life experience of Tan's father, who embarked on a similar challenging journey to Singapore with his mother at the tender age of 5.
Tan, reflecting on this familial history, shares a poignant memory: discovering the arrival card adorned with photographs of her young father and grandmother.
Seeing the image of the serious-faced little boy and contemplating her father's perception of Singapore during those times, deeply moved Tan.
It was this moment of connection to her past that inspired her to write a story, not just as a tribute to their journey, but also as a means to preserve and honour this significant chapter of her family's history.
"I just knew I had to write this book," she tells me wistfully.
Tan's book, although a work of fiction, centred around her father who had a wealth of stories to share from his younger days. Listening to these stories throughout her childhood, Tan became acutely aware that these precious snippets of her father's life could one day be forgotten.
Driven by this realisation, she made a heartfelt decision to capture and immortalise his rich history in a book, ensuring that his legacy and the lessons from his life would endure for generations to come.
"I wanted my children to get to know their grandfather and discover his greatness," the mother-of-two says.
Tan embarked on a dedicated journey to interview her father, seeking to capture the essence of his experiences and the depth of his character. Through these conversations, she began crafting the character of Kuang, infusing him with traits reminiscent of her father's personality and experiences.
She fondly remembers her father as an exceptional storyteller, whose keen eye for detail and vivid recollections brought to life the era when Singapore was burgeoning, filled with immigrants like him who were instrumental in shaping the nation into its present form.
His stories not only transported her back in time, but also inspired her to weave these rich narratives into her writing, creating an unforgettable story that blends personal memory with historical evolution.
"I wanted to celebrate the father whom I respect and a typical hawker we meet every day at the markets or hawker centres in Singapore, whom we may not pay much attention to," she writes in her introduction.
Tan explains further: "Our hawker culture thrives not just because of the wide array of finger-licking food, but also the people who created them. Their stories matter. They're a big part of our national identity. I wanted to honour them by sharing a slice of life in this book."
PERSONAL MEMORIES
Kuang's life in Sweet Braised Duck is marked by hardship and obstacles. He had to deal with an abusive good-for-nothing grandfather and poverty compels him to abandon his education prematurely.
He then takes on menial tasks like being a hawker's assistant at a fish porridge stall and working as a coolie like his father Ah Beh, hefting bulky gunny sacks from cargo ships at the port.
Like Kuang, Tan's father too had to navigate a series of menial jobs, including being a coolie. "But not everything in the book is based on my father," she insists, chuckling.
In Sweet Braised Duck, the antagonist, represented by Kuang's grandfather Ah Gong, was intentionally crafted to add complexity to the narrative. As Tan explains, having a villain-like character is essential for adding depth to any story.
In addition to Ah Gong, there's Geong, Kuang's childhood friend who deceitfully persuades Kuang to invest in a kopitiam, driven by his own selfish ambitions. Unfortunately, this business venture ends in failure.
However, Tan emphasises that these "villains" in her story aren't portrayed as wholly evil or bad. Her intention was to explore the nuances and ambiguities of different characters, reflecting the reality that people are rarely entirely malevolent.
This approach to character development allows for a more realistic and layered portrayal of individuals, mirroring the complexities found in real-life personalities.
Still, there are some of her own memories that made it into the book. Sharing a candid example, she says: "For instance, I remember once when I was helping in my father's shop, I accidentally spilt soup on a customer!"
This incident, however, takes a different turn in her book. She explains: "In real life, the customer was kind enough to forgive my clumsiness. But in the book, I wanted to add a bit of drama so the customer isn't so forgiving towards Kuang!"
Tan's childhood was deeply influenced by the sights, sounds and experiences of her father's hard work poured into his modest coffee shop. The distinct clang of his cleaver striking the thick wooden cutting board, the sight of braised ducks hanging in a neat row from hooks, and the cheerful bubbling of pots over an open flame were everyday realities for her.
She reflects thoughtfully: "Braised ducks are my father's pride. When he talks about his ducks, his eyes gleam with joy and satisfaction until now!"
She goes on to recount how her father was eager to put in the hard work and invest everything into his own kopitiam. This decision was driven by necessity as he had a family to support.
Continues Tan: "My father was initially afraid of using the big cleaver in the beginning. I didn't know this part of him… his fears about certain things in his life. I'd never have known if it wasn't for this book."
This process of exploring her father's past and his challenges not only enriched the narrative of Sweet Braised Duck, but also deepened her personal understanding and connection with her father.
The 37-year-old teacher looks back on her childhood dreams with humour and fondness. She reminisces: "When we got together with our cousins to play, I'd always take up the role of a teacher!" Her laughter echoes her joyful memories, and she adds drolly: "But I also had dreams of becoming a chef and an artist!"
Her journey took a turn when she pursued her Masters in Liberal Studies in the United States. It was during this phase that Tan discovered her passion for writing.
"Initially, it was all about poetry and children's stories. I even wrote a few stories for my own two boys, while I continued with my teaching career," she explains.
The turning point for Tan to write her father's story came unexpectedly. She recalls a significant moment: "My father came back one day from his kopitiam and mentioned that he might close his business in the next few years."
This revelation sparked in her the realisation of the impermanence of the 71-year-old man's legacy and the urgency to capture and preserve his experiences and stories.
It was this moment that inspired her to pivot from poetry and children's tales to the more personal and meaningful project of chronicling her father's life and journey.
"I couldn't imagine a life without the presence of braised ducks in it," she sighs. "For the past 35 years of my life, we used to have braised ducks often. It's been so integral in my life that it's hard to imagine my father giving all that up."
She grows quiet, before finally saying: "This book is for him, and for those whose stories are lost to history."
Like Kuang, the character she lovingly crafted, Tan's father will continue to run his stall for as long as he can. The sweet braised duck, therefore, becomes more than a culinary delight; it's a poignant reminder of his journey, a celebration of gaginang (family), and a tribute to the enduring strength of those who, like him, have built lives in new lands.
SWEET BRAISED DUCK
Author: Tan Chew Ngee
Publisher: Penguin Random House SEA
312 pages
Available at all major bookstores.