Lionising Singapore

'New Sin", chef Han Li Guang explains, is the expression he uses to refer to the way he pushes the boundaries of Singaporean cuisine.

"In the past, I focused on remaking the textures of hawker dishes. This new style is more about doing it my way: creating my own flavour combinations but still remaining quintessentially Singaporean. 'New Sin' stands for Singapore cuisine on my own terms, where we utilise very traditional recipes, all made in-house but presented in a way you've never seen before," says chef Han Li Guang, popularly known as chef Han or chef LG.

At Labyrinth, his Michelin-starred restaurant in Singapore, this is exactly what chef Han does. He uses local produce with old recipes according to his philosophy of "the triangle tree" -- produce, flavour and presentation. "Though it sounds easy on paper, it is hard in application," asserts chef Han. "To find the balance of flavours with local ingredients is difficult. For example, Thai beef masaman doesn't really need good quality beef as the curry overpowers it. It is tough to find the balance of being creative with good quality ingredients. It is not easy to reach that state of nirvana of the three elements [in] harmony. Flavours change with textures."

But chef Han wasn't always a fan of local produce. It all began by accident, he says, during the filming of a TV show at an offshore fish farm where he was helping amateur cooks improve their dishes. One contestant, the fish farm owner, was cooking Singaporean chilli crab with local catch. "I thought I could save his dish by introducing my Alaskan king crab, as I only used the local crab for stock," he says. "But the man insisted I try the crab and I found it to be better than any crab I had ever tasted! Then I tasted the mussels and Venus clams and it made think of Noma, which even in the dead of winter when nothing grows, manages to use local produce. Singapore has summer all-year round and things should be able to grow here.

Chef Han Li Guang of Michelin-starred Labyrinth in Singapore. Anantara Siam Bangkok

"That got me exploring what farmers had to offer, not just in the market, but in the farms as well. I found some farms, farms found me or customers connected me to farmers. I started working closely with them to compile my own list of what produce grows when and which farmer produces it, etc. A hundred years ago things grew in Singapore, so I decided to find out what grew in the past [so that we could grow it again] in the present."

Contrary to popular belief, locally sourced Singapore produce does exist, but there isn't a platform that connects everyone. The difficulty lies in the limitations on produce and in finding out what people are growing, says chef Han, who goes around the island nation meeting farmers to understand what they do.

"They will give me things because I don't see them as mere suppliers. It is not [just] a monetary relationship," says chef Han, a former banker.

"Singapore is expensive and business sustainability has to be on both sides. But I would never bargain with them. I know how hard it is for them. It's a relationship based on trust, respect and knowledge-sharing. This was hard in the beginning, but with the networks and media picking up on what I do, it is being showcased to the public. This has brought a lot of farmers to me who were under the radar previously, wanting to meet me and show me their produce. The agricultural authority of Singapore has also approached me to work together. Now the journey is easier for me to focus on.

"I'm a Singaporean guy cooking Singaporean food, championing the Singaporean cause. I didn't grow up eating French food so it's natural for me to cook Singaporean. My soul and my heart is for Singaporean food. A lot of people think Singaporean food is Malaysian. Though if you trace where most of the cuisine comes from, it is not the same anymore. Why are we calling it by its ethnic name and not by its cultural name? Why is it Hainanese chicken rice and not Singapore chicken rice? It is time we discover what we have and support local talent."

There is no single dish that inspired this train of thought. For chef Han, every dish tells a story. At Labyrinth there is just one menu. This, he says, is because it is meant to be a performance, a way of telling a story. Every dish shows off a different aspect of Singapore and of who he is as a chef.

"I became a chef because I want freedom of speech. I am very outspoken. I am fighting for the cause of the little guys in Singapore: the farmers who receive little or no love from chefs or armchair critics, who are ready to belittle Singaporean produce.

"Labyrinth is not merely a restaurant; it is a cause. It is a platform. Even the art on the walls showcases local artists. I hang my grandmother's pot and pan on the wall as a tribute to her. It's a little piece of her with me at all times. It's about believing in what I do for the people I believe in," stresses chef Han.

"My grandmother's cooking and the hawker centres influence my thinking a lot -- in good and bad ways. In the past, I was afraid of [tackling] the hawkers head-on. In Singapore, no one has a problem paying S$12 [286 baht] for mediocre pasta but they will refuse to pay it for noodles. The hawkers suffer the cost of quality ingredients, while keeping the prices down for customers. This has inspired me to try to do the dishes traditionally and make them better.

"This is a way for me to fight for quality Singaporean cuisine -- to make people pay for quality. This is my fight for hawkers, for farmers, for myself. It is to put Singaporean cuisine on the global stage to show how good it is.

"This is the cause for food with a soul, history and flavour. It's about emotional connections and historical flavours that have been passed down the years. Singaporean cuisine has been influenced by its history but over the years it has evolved because of produce restrictions. However, now it is about new ethnicity. Fifty years from now, it will be ethnic."