Meet the 24-year-old F&B entrepreneur who is preserving his grandmother’s Peranakan recipes through Kokoyo Nyonya Delights

Choosing to set up Kokoyo as a stand‑alone eatery rather than a hawker stall was another unconventional move. Compared to a stall at a hawker centre, which offers lower operational costs but is notoriously tough to sustain, a shop unit comes with higher rent, renovation expenses as well as greater financial risk. Ang, though, has calculated the trade‑offs. “I weighed the opportunity costs. I can sell drinks here, which [can be quite profitable],” he explains.

“On top of that, in the near future, I plan to sell breakfast [items] such as toast.” (For context, stand‑alone food shops have more flexibility than hawker stalls when it comes to both menu changes and the add‑on sale of drinks because the latter operates under a specific licence category and hence face stricter regulations.) Strategy aside, Ang has food quality at top of mind. “A lot of F&B places in Singapore are in it for the money,” he opines. “They cut costs by reducing the food quality. If I can guarantee the food quality is good, it’d allow [Kokoyo] to stand out.”

Never one to make compromises to cut costs, Ang insists on keeping every dish as it was meant to be, even if that means occasional shortages. “My grandma told me to make sure not to cut any costs or steps. Just follow the book,” says Ang, referring to the notebook in which he recorded her recipes and techniques. “I can’t skip anything. Even if I oversleep that day and come in at 9.30 am, I have to open at [my usual time of] 11.30 am. If [I miss a step in preparing a dish], I have to tell the customer it’s not available.”

While there is a certain romanticism in the idea of a young chef reviving heritage recipes, the reality of running a business is far less poetic. The start‑up costs alone—about $80,000—was a hard pill to swallow. “Kitchen equipment … is more expensive than I thought,” Ang says with a laugh, shaking his head. “[We worked with this] custom kitchen equipment company. We had no choice because our kitchen is small and we have to customise equipment [to fit it].”

Beyond finances, operations is a challenge. Unlike seasoned restaurateurs, Ang had to learn kitchen flow, supply chain management and efficiency on the job. “I have no F&B foundation. My grandma helped me initially. I didn’t know [things like] where to place the pots. The operational flow in the kitchen was a foreign concept to me,” he says. Then there were the technical failures. This January, Kokoyo suffered repeated blackouts, making it impossible to operate. “We turned everything on and off, but it kept happening,” he recalls. “Eventually, we realised it was the fridge.”

Despite these hurdles, Ang pressed on and Kokoyo now boasts a small but loyal fan base, with 20 to 30 per cent returning regularly. “I assumed Singaporeans would be more critical, especially with Peranakan food,” Ang admits. “But the feedback has been better than I expected.” Among the regulars are fellow Peranakans, perhaps drawn to Ang’s insistence on authenticity. “There is no right or wrong Peranakan recipe—different households do things differently,” he says.

Peranakan cuisine in Singapore is often associated with upscale restaurants, making it less accessible to the everyday diner. Keenly aware of this, Ang keeps his price points reasonable. “For Peranakan food at an affordable price, there’s not much competition,” he says. “I want to make it available to more people.”

When queried on growth plans, Ang shares that he is more focused on the present. “If you talk about expansion, I don’t know,” he admits. “Because I’ve never done [business] before. For now, I just want to get the shop right.” That said, one long‑term dream he does have is to introduce to his menu ayam buah keluak, a traditional Peranakan dish of chicken simmered in tamarind gravy with buah keluak nuts—a favourite of his that he has yet to implement due to space constraints. “I need to sort out the inventory,” he says with a sigh. “Because the kitchen is very small.”

With its labour‑intensive preparation and distinctively bold flavours, the dish embodies a larger dilemma: the challenge of preserving Peranakan cuisine in a world that prioritises convenience. As traditional cooking methods give way to faster alternatives, many Peranakans fear that their culinary heritage may one day fade.

While Ang is committed to keeping those traditions alive, he recognises that younger generations are less inclined to cook. “Most of my friends my age don’t cook. They don’t like cleaning up. They just want to eat,” he says with a wry smile. When asked how they can be encouraged to cook Peranakan food, he hesitates. “You can’t force it, or the food won’t taste good,” he finally says. “It has to come from passion.”

Still, Ang’s work at Kokoyo suggests that heritage cuisine is not fading. By making Peranakan food more accessible and rooted in authenticity, he is helping to bridge the gap between tradition and the modern palate. And for Ang, as long as people keep coming back for that taste of home, that is all the validation he needs.

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