The One That Got Away

Malaysia could have had a real Chinese cuisine star in Sam Leong. Born in Malaysia, he has since decamped to Singapore and married a Thai, whom he evidently worships, if the naming of his restaurant and cooking studio are anything to go by (both the restaurant at Resorts World Sentosa, Singapore and the live venue are named Forest, after his wife).

Sam Leong and yours truly, in the kitchen of Tao, InterContinental Kuala Lumpur.

As part of a dining promotion with InterContinental Kuala Lumpur, Leong popped across the border to his old stomping grounds. I had the chance to grill him on a few subjects.

How much time do you spend in any kitchen these days, really? 
I'm seldom at the stove. I travel twice a month on guest chef stints, and I consult on restaurants. I have two chefs who have been with me for 22 years. They started as kitchen helpers and are now chefs in their own right. They're the ones in operations now.

You actually have retained a staff for 22 years?
In those days there was such thing as loyalty. These days I have lowered my standards. To find commitment is hard enough already.

What kind of changes has there been in the Chinese kitchen, over these years? 
There's been no change at all! The people who come into Chinese kitchens still have not much of an education. They come because they have not studied. They don't look good and would never have made it passed the HR department in a hotel. They are the kind of people only Chinese restaurants hire, and they are in it because they know they'll at least get food while they earn their money. You do get the rare ones who are educated and looking to learn, but they tend to resign. The Chinese kitchen is no place for someone who has been to hotel school and who has been taught that there is a knife for everything. In the Chinese kitchen, there is only one knife - the cleaver - and you do everything with it.

Chinese chefs don't talk. They don't teach either. The only way a young kitchen helper will learn is by experience. If you get nipped by a crab while chopping them up, you continue with a bandage on your hand. If you want a recipe, you study the chef. You look in the dustbin to see what brand of flour and sauce he uses. Chinese chefs will never give out a recipe to anyone who has not been with them for 20 years.

You started life in a Chinese kitchen, just like that. How did you get your break? 
Even when I was Director of Kitchens at the Tung Lok Group (in Singapore), I believed that talking to guests was not my job. If guests had an issue, they spoke to the manager who would then speak to me. When I started to travel, I began to transform. I went to Alain Ducasse's Paris restaurant to eat. There I observed an elderly couple who complained to each other about the soup being too salty. They critiqued every dish. Then Ducasse himself came out and stopped at their table and asked how the food was. The couple lavished praise on him. That is when I learnt the power of the chef. That is why when I was at the Four Seasons Singapore, I made an effort to clean up after service, and go out and present myself to the guests. I learned how to position myself at a table as I stood to talk. It is something you can't learn from a book - how to talk to guests in such a way that guests don't get a neckache  as they look up to you.

Do Chinese chefs have their culinary idols? 
When I began, the only famous chef I knew was Martin Yan. My dad taught me the cooking basics - how to make good soup, how to prepare abalone and sharksfin. I had no idols but I admired my father. He was born in China, he came to Malaya after World War II, in the 1960s. He was the first Chinese chef to use gas to cook, instead of charcoal.

My father used to gather, with all the other Chinese chefs, in Jalan Imbi after the night's work. They would sit until 2am talking about philosophy. I would listen as they talked about work, staff problems - table talk. When I became a chef I remembered some of the things my father and his friends said, and I found I could use the knowledge to improve my restaurants and staff.

Leong's idea of a tom yum.

Hardly part of your seven a day.

You've now found fame as the Chinese chef who serves his food in a Western style plating and form.
I like how Western food is served individually. When at the Four Seasons I noticed businessmen coming in for lunches and talking so much that the dim sum turned cold. This made me think about presenting four different types of dim sum in one basket for each individual diner, so they had the selection in front of them and could eat off their own plates instead of moving the lazy Susan round and round. As a guide I used Joel Robuchon's quote, "Anything on a plate must be edible."

When I began doing these individual plates, the staff resigned because of the added burden of plating. Guests would ask where the head and tail of a whole steamed fish was. But I knew I was on the right track when a single diner from New York came to the Four Seasons and was thrilled that I was able to offer him - a man eating alone - a seven-course Chinese meal complete with Peking duck. He told me he had travelled his whole life and never ever had this experience. So you see, you need to continue believing in what you do. It's all about bringing the customer to another level. It's not just about breaking with tradition.

So how do you see Asians viewing Chinese cuisine? 
There are no more red lanterns in the best Chinese restaurants. It is not expected any more. Chinese restaurants in Asia are beautifully designed now, with dim lighting, wine glasses and show plates. Things have changed because Asians are changing. They have more time for food now, and will enjoy their meals with wine. The dishes do not need to be brought out quickly because people need to eat and rush back to work.

You have two sons. Will you allows them to follow you into the professional kitchen? 
My younger son is interested in Italian food. I told him to get a pastry degree and become the owner-chef of a small bakery. It's not so stressful and you get to enjoy being in the kitchen.