We were having a casual conversation while awaiting his turn for a photo shoot for this year’s Singapore Food Festival (where he’s participating in a Makansutra event) and he nonchalantly raised a simple yet harsh reality, “When I retire, there will be no more Hakka restaurants left in Singapore.” I blinked for all of five seconds, quietly buying time while attempting to compute or dispute his words, and realised ,”Oh ya, it’s true hor!”. I could not conjure another true blue Hakka chef-owned Hakka dining establishment here (besides Kew Garden Restaurant, which some websites regard as a dim sum restaurant, and excluding those which compromise with stuff like chilli crabs, sambal kangkong and prawn paste chicken in their Hakka menu).

Mr Lai Fak Nian sat very comfortably as he gazed across the Marina Bay and reflected on the Marina Bay Integrated Resort structure. The smile on his face was not indicative of any smugness or pride, he just wanted to remind me of that fact. “I seldom come out here to this part of town and I am enjoying this view”, he said, like an old seasoned and weather beaten kitchen warrior who has seen action in his restaurant since the 70s and contemplating a simpler existence ahead. This quietly confident chef (already in his 60s) had been at it for over 30 years, churning out the same classic Hakka signatures in his Plum Village Restaurant, a venture he chanced upon after leaving his family’s grocery business. I recalled having been there only three times in the last five years - once to film them for our Makansutra TV series and the other occasions was to remind myself just how good an authentic Hakka yong tauhu and abacus seeds (yam gnocchi ) should be. I knew I would be making the fourth visit after this conversation.

My Suan Pan Zi (yam gnocchi) yardstick of measure is this version -
yammy enough and not too chewy.

It’s no secret that the Hakka do not have any real “original cuisine”. Their flavours were born out of necessity which mothered their ingenius food culture. They fled the warring northern regions of China centuries ago and as travelling nomads heading south, their cuisine had to last the distance, be an all season favourite and have enough nutriments. The hospitable southern folks called them Hakka or “guest people”. Their most famous signature, of course is yong tauhu and it has all that classic ingredients - the tofu holds well and the salted minced meat smeared atop can last the journey, and it is fills up and nourishes.

The rare and delectable crunchy red wine prawns-
with a sweet fragrance of wine.

I could not leave his restaurant without devouring his Red Wine Prawns, made with wine lees, the sediments found at the bottom of sake or rice wine barrels. The prawns were fresh and crunchy and it had a lightly fragrant and sweet aroma, like it was cooked in dessert red wine reduction. His yong tauhu was as old fashioned and robust as I remembered - stuffed with salted minced meat and pan fried. I could detect hints of Teochew influenced tee po (dried flat fish) in the marinate but the accompanying sauce was just whisker gentler than I had the last time around. It went supremely well with rice but I would’ve liked it more salty and savoury. His suan pan zi (abacus seeds or yam gnocchi) is my yardstick of measure for this dish. The little nuggets, wok tossed with dried shrimps, tofu bits, mushrooms and minced meat, had just enough mashed yam and the glutinous flour texture did not overwhelm. I adored his Salt Baked Chicken, the fowl came shredded and hand torn, like how it should be, and the saltiness was just perfect with the rice and it came with a special sesame oil dip. What blew me away was another all time classic - the Mei Chai Ko Rou (stewed preserved vegetables with fatty pork). Chowing down on a big spoon of it over rice reminded me the depth of the simple pleasures of comfort food. He also offer a rare steamed Radish Ball - shredded radish rolled in glutinous rice flour balls with dried shrimps and minced meat - sold only on weekends. It was a joy eating this vanishing flavour.

Their Radish Ball, lovingly hand-made, is served only on weekends.

I asked about Hakka desserts in that conversation (I realized I did not know of any) and he again, nonchalantly replied in Hokkien for local language impact “ Jiak pa ko ai si mi?” (stomach full already, what else do you want?). Now I know why the Hakkas are not known for desserts - too decadent a makan concept for simple traveling nomads.