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SINGAPORE: When aspiring street vendor Debbie Yam started working in her family’s home zi char put, he was forbidden to cook for customers after burning even simple dishes, such as fried rice and hor fun.
Tang Kay Kee Fish Head Bee Hoon was a household name who served traditional Cantonese-style food, and Yam graduated from business and ended up being relegated to basic kitchen work, such as cutting vegetables and seasoning food.
“By hor fun or fried rice, you need wok Hears (wok ‘breath’ in Cantonese). Mine was just black, ”he recalled.
“In the beginning when I was learning to cook, I burned a lot of hair, eyebrows and a lot of food. My friends who came to support me had to eat my burned food.
Only after months of training did the matriarch of the family business, Great-Aunt Tang Yock Cheng, allow her to serve customers a plate of fish head, bee hoon, that she prepared herself.
Great-aunt Tang Yock Cheng.
The same thing happened to his university cousin, Kamen Tang, who worked there on weekends and during school holidays.
“She made us cook for ourselves first and then for her to eat, and then for our friends,” Yam said. “So when we were able to serve customers, it has fitted perfectly, according to her.”
The 30-year-old is among a small number of young street vendors answering the call to continue the business. And he has some ideas on how to take your family’s legacy to the next level.
But even when a new generation hopes to transform the business to attract new customers, the current generation has reservations about old practices, discovers the Belly Of A Nation program.
WATCH: Singapore’s Street Vendors and Those Who Keep Commerce Alive (47:32)
POSITION ALMOST SOLD
Tang Kay Kee Fish Head Bee Hoon was started in 1946 by Yam’s great-grandfather Tang Pak Kay, a handcart vendor who sold his food along Upper Hokkien Street in Chinatown. And he had a little quirk: he was barefoot.
“At that time, a pair of wooden clogs cost 70 cents … But he was not willing to buy them,” said Great-Aunt Tang in Cantonese. “He was cheap. I wanted to save money because I had a family. “
After he died of old age in the 1970s, she took over his stall, which then moved to the Hong Lim Market and Food Center in 1978, when the authorities relocated the street vendors to street vendors. specially built throughout the island.
“She took over because she was the only one in the family who was not married,” Yam said. “She was the one who had the most time and had no commitments.”
Tang Pak Kay’s former street vendor license.
However, Great-Aunt Tang feared that the business would suffer after resettlement.
In the past, when you were selling food by hand truck, many customers who were driving used to wait on the road to pick up their orders.
“He was concerned that no one would park his car and buy from him at the street vendor center,” Yam said.
Unsure of how the business would turn out, she did not even buy a refrigerator for the stall, opting instead to bring food from her flat near the stall every day.
But business improved, so he bought one a few months later.
Yam remembered hanging out at the stall on weekends as a kid, helping with the dishes. “We are a united family. Our relatives used to help her on the job, including my parents, ”she said.
Hong Lim’s market stall and food center.
In 2016, however, her great-aunt wanted to sell the position due to a labor shortage. Yam, who was in New Zealand on a vacation job, found out and told him to postpone the sale until he returned.
“His whole life was dedicated to this position. If there were no street vendor life, his life would be meaningless, “he said.
Furthermore, Yam, who has a degree in management from the Singapore Institute for Global Management Education in association with the University of Manchester, didn’t mind being a street vendor.
“I want to learn things. I think it’s a very interesting job and I see the opportunity to… gain (some) experience, ”he said.
RESISTING CHANGE
Yam’s parents, who are in the construction business, supported his decision, but warned him about the long hours and physical demands ahead of him.
But what he didn’t expect when he started working there in 2017 was that his great-aunt, now 75, and the older workers at the position would be so resistant to change.
For example, he wanted to introduce plastic take-out containers, but Tang refused, saying it was an additional cost to customers.
“(Older people) have been doing things their way for so long. They don’t want to change anything, not even little things like that, ”Yam said.
They want to continue using paper boxes. But it’s a waste of time to fold (these), and we have a labor shortage.
When he proposed a lunch service, Tang had his doubts. The booth had never opened this early, as the crowd from the Central Business District seemed to be short on time.
“During the day, nobody ate zi char because it took my father a long time to cook the fish head hoon bee“Tang said.
“For a bowl, it would take at least 20 minutes. I wanted to cook it until the soup was beautiful. “
However, Yam managed to convince her great-aunt to let her sell two dishes: fried rice and hor fun – as of 2018.
“There would be no loss by opening the stall during lunchtime,” he reasoned. “The rent is a fixed cost and there is no additional cost of labor, since I was the one who cooked.”
At first, the post struggled to draw in the crowd. But in true millennial style, he turned to social media to market the lunch menu.
“We put up posters and photos worthy of Instagram. That helped grab people’s attention, ”said Yam, who previously had social media marketing experience while working at a café.
When business recovered, he wanted to revamp the lunch menu with a zi char poke bowls inspired concept.
Yam with their revamped menu, which included chicken with shrimp pasta.
Once again, her great-aunt was skeptical, commenting that such dishes, such as spicy braised pork belly rice and hor fun with sous vide egg – they were “nothing special” and would not be sold.
“When I tried to introduce different bowls, (the older workers) resisted and just wanted the traditional flavors,” Yam said. “I am of the younger generation; I would know what is popular with younger people. “
Sure enough, these lunch bowls became a hit, filling a lunch void that the business had had for decades. However, Tang did not allow him to present the concept for dinner.
“She said it is not going to be sold. She still prefers to sell family style zi char dishes at night, ”Yam said.
Another of his suggestions was a point of sale (POS) system to streamline the ordering process. “(When) an order comes in, they have to shout (the order) at least three or four times to each other,” he said.
They are a bit older, their hearing may not be the best so it gets confusing.
Tang, however, said no. I was afraid that someone would steal the POS and take the proceeds.
FEELING BURNED
Two years ago, Yam, who lived with her parents in Choa Chu Kang, moved to Tang’s apartment in Chinatown to spend more time with her great-aunt and put an end to commuting.
“The hours (of work) are unbearable. It is difficult for a young generation street vendor. I see my friends going out to dinners and parties, and I can’t join them… I lead a different lifestyle, ”he added. “And I really miss smelling good.”
Her most difficult period as a salesperson was when COVID-19 hit, especially during the “circuit breaker.” She introduced a delivery service to address dropping customers and the first week was the hardest for her.
In addition to cooking, she had to manage delivery orders, routes, and drivers. “I slept less than two hours every day because there was a lot of coordination,” he said.
“I was very, very exhausted. I remember breaking down at the end of that week. I was like, ‘Oh no, this is only the first week.’ And then at that point the breaker was two months old. “
Then her 23-year-old cousin helped coordinate deliveries, for example when she realized she “couldn’t do everything.”
Yam with his cousin, Kamen Tang.
While the pandemic has forced street vendors like her to adapt quickly, the biggest driving force behind the stall, her great-aunt, is unwilling to change old ways.
“She is still strong in (terms of) decision making,” Yam said. “This is her position, she is still in charge. If you want to do it your way, I will support you because I am here (in) a supporting role. “
Watch the Belly Of A Nation show here. And read about the 91-year-old street vendor behind a historic wonton noodle stand who left him.
