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When I mentioned my obsession with bacon to my brother who lives in the UK, he sniffed, “We don’t eat bacon for breakfast these days.  It’s peasant food.”

I’d like to see him tell mum that.  She lives in Klang, a place she claims is barren of good bacon.  I am literally expected to bring home the bacon every time I visit, failing which she’d serve me broth without any bread and whip me soundly before putting me to bed.

I am an internet junkie, reading anything from Malaysiakini to Martha Stewart’s Delicious Food Recipes, and one day I chanced upon Martha Stewart’s bacon jam recipe.  It involved using a slow cooker, something which I didn’t have at that time, so I put it off to another day.  I eventually bought myself a cheap 3.3 litre slow cooker, and my culinary journey took a different, but positive direction from then on.

The reception towards my homemade bacon jam varied greatly.  Some said it tasted like siu pau (barbecued pork bun) and politely told me that it was marketable, while my mum said perceptively, “There’s alcohol in it, Meena”.  It would have been okay except that she suffers from alcohol intolerance (she breaks out in rashes), and being the good daughter that I am, I fed her not only the bacon jam made with 15-year-old single malt whisky, but also a boozey tiramisu later that night.  Relax.  The amounts were negligible anyway, hardly enough to cause a small bump in the skin, and she slept well that night.

Ironically enough, I didn’t use the slow cooker to make the bacon jam in the end.  The problem with the slow cooker recipe is that one needs to cook it for 3 1/2 to 4 hours on high (or probably about 6 hours on low), but I work in an accounting firm with minimum working hours of 12 hours a day which basically meant that 1) I can never get a tan; and 2) I can never cook bacon jam in a slow cooker.

I followed the ingredients in the recipe to a T, so it’s pointless reproducing it here, but the steps obviously differ because of the no-slow cooker thingy.  After frying the bacon, onions and garlic, and adding cider vinegar, maple syrup, sugar and coffee, I cooked it over low heat on the stove for about an hour, then cooled it down before blitzing it in the food processor till I got it to my preferred consistency.  It then went back to the stove again before I added in a glug of whisky and simmered it for a further 15 minutes. (Note: There is no mention of whisky in the Martha Stewart version, but I think it should be in as it makes a world of a difference.  It’s non-halal already anyway, innit?)

The bacon jam goes wonderfully with cheeses and roast meats.  I even ate it with mum’s nasi lemak last weekend, whereupon mum bestowed upon me her biggest frown for contaminating a much revered local favourite with the likes of Martha Stewart.  Mum’s a stickler for tradition, and I’m a rebel, but she humours me anyway.  Well, sometimes.

I still have some left over in my fridge, this beautiful pot of gold with its sticky, smoky, syrupy, delectable relish.   I asked a dear friend once, in rhetoric, about my elusive rainbow and pot of gold.  She said, “It will get better.  Just focus on the now”.  And I did just that.

“No more did I need to roam.
In all that time I was searching for that pot of gold,
It was with my family and friends, at home.”

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Singapore

I had never tried his food, not for want of trying, but I was still nervous about meeting this man.  For years we had been trying to get a reservation at his restaurant, Tetsuya’s, in Sydney, but because of our inability to commit to holiday plans, and our generally short stay in Sydney at any one time, we had always been unable to lock down a date at this restaurant.  After some time, he became the elusive Chef Tetsuya to us and like most dreams, this one got pushed into the KIV folder, slowly fading into oblivion together with other bits of forgotten items.

Which brings us back to this moment.  Meeting Chef Tetsuya Wakuda in person, in an intimate setting, in his restaurant in Singapore.  As we slowly marched into his private kitchen and lined up against the gleaming stainless steel induction cooking block, it was quite obvious that the cocktails which we had earlier weren’t enough to shake off the nerves at meeting this illustrious man.  Dutch courage is a myth.

I didn’t need to fear a thing, of course.  This man had compassion in his eyes.  When he smiled and talked about the simple foods that made him happy, his eyes sparkled.  Chicken rice and char koay teow are his favourite local dishes, but when he is at home, what makes him happy is Italian food.  A simple spaghetti with bird’s eye chilli and garlic, a heaving bowl of salad and cheese, and good company.

Chef Tetsuya’s expression for his passion for cooking is infectious; his speech picks speed and his voice takes on a pleasant lilt.  “When you eat, every sense of the body is employed.  It is the same with cooking,” he tells us.  “A person learns how to cook from a cookbook, but the rest is from experience.  Cooking is giving.  When you like someone, you cook for that person,” he continues.

It is simple philosophy, but it makes perfect sense.   I look back at my own experience, of seeing my mother work joyfully in the kitchen just to be able to feed her family, and then to my own life where I subconsciously replicate the same manner of caring with the people in my life.  My eyes get watery, and it isn’t due to the billowing steam from the Alaskan king crab cooked at 230C on a base of salt with oil and water.  A splash of lime juice brings out the sweetness of the meat and we nibble on it as Chef Tetsuya carries on with his stories.

“Today, if you have knowledge, say as a sommelier or as a cook, you can live anywhere in the world,” he says.

“What makes a good restaurant?” someone asks him.  “It’s the people,” he says without hesitation.  “People greet you when you enter a restaurant, and chefs cook for you.  When service is good, customers return.”  Waku Ghin’s chef, Sia Kok Hong, nods in agreement.  “He’s a kind boss,” the man from Malacca says shyly.  “I’ve never seen Chef Tetsuya scold anyone before.”  The answer doesn’t seem rehearsed.

Chef Tetsuya helps plate the next dish.  While one of the chefs grates fresh wasabi with determined concentration, Chef Tetsuya picks up a slice of lightly grilled incredibly marbled Grade A5 Kobe beef and proceeds to pile on the freshly grated wasabi on the beef followed by a dash of citrus soya sauce.  “Go ahead and eat it,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.  We expect a sharp hit in our nasal passages, but are surprised with a mellow sensation instead.  “The wasabi reacts with the fat in the beef and tones down the sensation,” he explains.  As expected, the dish is perfect.

As dish after dish is served to us, I begin to understand why Chef Tetsuya is well loved by his employees and his guests.  Despite his fame, he has no airs and graces.  Food is simply prepared with attention and care to its freshness, quality and chemistry between ingredients.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget meeting Chef Tetsuya Wakuda.

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Note: Waku Ghin recently clinched 11th place on the San Pellegrino Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants 2013 list.  Reservations are strongly recommended.

Waku Ghin
The Shoppes, Atrium 2, L2-02, Marina Bay Sands Singapore.

Reservations: +65 6688 8507

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Kazuhiro Chii is a man of many talents.

Ask him to show you his tools, and you will agree with me.

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The art of hand sculpting ice is uncommon in these parts of the world (and I mean Malaysia, not greater Asia, naturally).   I watched with rapt attention as he took out a block of ice, like an unpolished diamond, and shaved it skillfully with a myriad of rather dangerous looking knives to create a perfect globe that would fit snugly into a whisky glass.

The bar at Waku Ghin in Singapore is the restaurant’s alpha and omega.  This is the place to have your apéritifs and digestifs before feasting at the restaurant which was recently ranked No.11 on San Pellegrino Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants 2013 list.  And even if you are unable to secure a reservation at the much acclaimed restaurant, it is an experience in itself to sit at the bar and watch the bartenders work their magic.

Even the best chefs take inspiration from others.  The idea of starting the Japanese bar came about when Chef Tetsuya Wakuda, the owner of Waku Ghin and Tetsuya’s (in Sydney), spent some time in Ginza, Tokyo in a bar called Star Bar.  There, he became good friends with the owner and bartender extraordinaire, Hisashi Kishi, and after several drinks and conversations later, decided to open his own classic Japanese bar in Singapore.  The style and decor of his new bar had to be elegant and muted.  He wanted to be able to showcase Japanese-style cocktails and encourage a finer appreciation for the cocktails.

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The best seat is at the bar, of course.  This is where one can observe the skill and concentration that goes into making the perfect cocktail.  Kazuhiro Chii placed a couple of bottles of alcohol – vermouth and gin – before us before he proceeded to make us a martini.  What looked like a dry martini turned out to be something quite different.  The first scent to tickle the senses was the heady smell of truffles.  We later discovered, upon biting into our “olive”, that the olive was, in fact, a baby peach soaked in truffle oil.

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Bar nibbles are not your typical nuts and crackers.  Here, you can get iberico ham, caviar, oysters, cheese and other meat dishes, all worthy of Waku Ghin’s name, at prices starting from S$35++.  Servings are big enough to be shared among several friends.  The bar menu features 85 cocktails (and counting) from S$20++ onwards.  There is also an extensive selection of sakes and whiskies.

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This is the place to get a drink in an environment that encourages quiet contemplation and an appreciation for an art that deserves to be revered.   And it doesn’t hurt to see that dimpled smile behind the bar as you take a sip of your cocktail and look heavenward in wonderment and gratitude for the glass of liquid happiness.

Signed, An Almost Alcoholic.

The Bar at Waku Ghin
Marina Bay Sands
Singapore

Tel: +65 6688 8507

Open daily from 6pm until late. No reservations required.

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Note:  This review was at the invitation of Marina Bay Sands, Singapore.

About this blog

Food, for me, is a means to an end and not an end in itself.

Food, for me, represents the love of family, the fellowship of friends, and the community and communality it brings.