With heritage recognition, design-led packaging and global appeal, the Ang brothers are positioning Kele’s pineapple tarts as a modern Singaporean souvenir rooted in culture and craft
In the weeks leading up to Chinese New Year, the Ang brothers’ childhood unfolded to a familiar rhythm inside their parents’ bakery. Trays sliding in and out of ovens, the sweet density of pineapple jam simmering for hours, the quiet urgency of a family preparing for its busiest season. Long before Adrian and Gordon Ang understood the language of branding or strategy, they were already part of Kele (pronounced as Kerh-Lerh).
After school, from the age of ten or 12, they helped wherever they were needed, watching their parents work with tireless focus. “Those days instilled in us values of hard work and sacrifice,” Adrian, the elder of the two, recalls. “It was affection for our parents … the least we could do.” Kele began in 1983 as a modest neighbourhood confectionery, known primarily to families in the western part of Singapore. Pineapple tarts were festive fare then. To the young brothers, demand was simply a fact of life; only later would its meaning crystallise.
That reckoning came when Adrian left for university in the US in the early 2000s. Asked by friends about something that represented Singapore’s food culture, he found himself at a loss. Milo and instant coffee felt inadequate while bak kwa, or pork jerky, was impractical to ship. Eventually, his parents couriered pineapple tarts from home. Explaining why they were eaten and what they meant changed his understanding entirely. “That moment made me realise the historical, traditional and cultural significance of pineapple tarts in Singapore,” he says.
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Above The Ang brothers at their Chinatown flagship store (Photo: Kele)
What began as homesickness evolved into a question of national identity. Hong Kong had its wife biscuits; Taiwan, its sun cakes. Singapore, he realised, lacked a universally recognisable pastry souvenir. The seed was planted: why not elevate the pineapple tart into something that could stand for the country itself?
When Adrian returned to Singapore, first working in real estate before taking over the family business in 2012, Kele was still a single shop, with loyal customers who crossed the island during festive seasons, and recipes his parents guarded closely. Narrowing the business to focus entirely on pineapple tarts was the first decisive move. Pop-ups followed, then roadshows in neighbourhood malls. In 2013, Kele entered a public competition at Jurong Point and emerged unexpectedly as the “Pineapple King”.
“We never expected our pineapple tarts to be so well‑received,” Gordon says. By the time he formally joined the business in 2016, the ambition had sharpened. If Adrian was the strategist, Gordon—trained in marketing and instinctively visual—became the brand’s disruptor. The question they asked together: what must remain untouched, and what could be reimagined?.
Packaging became the fulcrum. At a time when competitors favoured transparent plastic tubs, Kele moved to metal tins—gold and opaque to position the brand at a premium. “We wanted to stand out,” Gordon explains. That decision demanded trust: customers could no longer see the product. It also demanded persuasion—convincing their parents to invest in a website before e-commerce was commonplace, took years. “We needed to convince our parents before we could convince our customers,” Adrian reflects.

Above Kele’s Chinese New Year 2026 Sanrio Collection, with six collectible tins (Photo: Kele)
The shift culminated in the opening of Kele’s flagship store in Chinatown in 2017—a deliberate choice, placing the brand within one of Singapore’s most historic districts. Travel-friendly boxes followed, designed with portability and presentation in mind. The tins and Singapore Series Skyline boxes extended beyond function; drawing on Singapore’s pineapple trade. In the early 1900s, the island was the world’s leading canning hub, with plantations in Yishun owned by businessman Lim Nee Soon—an industrial legacy that Kele folded into its narrative, reframing the pastry as a cultural artefact.
In 2021, Kele earned the “Made With Passion” label from the Singapore Tourism Board. Most recently, in October 2025, the National Heritage Board officially recognised Kele as a Singapore heritage business, affirming its role in preserving local food culture. “It’s not only about selling a product,” Adrian says, “but educating customers—local and foreign—about what they’re buying.”
Central to that education is repositioning the pineapple tart as a year-round gift. No longer confined to Chinese New Year, it becomes a gesture of warmth, prosperity and identity—something carried overseas, offered in boardrooms, or given to friends as a conversation starter about Singapore. Tens of thousands of boxes now travel annually with visitors, particularly from China and Japan, carrying with them an edible story of place.

Above The collaboration with Sanrio for Chinese New Year 2026 reimagines festive treats with beloved characters to reach Gen Z and young families. (Photo: Kele)
That global reach stems from the brothers’ strong collaboration. Working together in a multigenerational business means frequent disagreements—sometimes spilling beyond the office—but clear boundaries hold: Adrian oversees strategy and numbers; Gordon leads product line development, marketing and partnerships. “Family do not have overnight feuds,” Adrian says, invoking a saying their parents repeat. “The next day we reset.” Their parents, still present daily, now retired yet vigilant about quality, remain a grounding force.
The challenge today is continuity, or reaching younger generations without eroding meaning. Collaborations, such as the Chinese New Year 2026 Sanrio Collection, act as a bridge between generations. Featuring six collectible tins designed to appeal to Gen Z and young families, the collaboration sits alongside Kele’s core offerings. “It’s to bridge generations,” Gordon says.
For the Ang brothers, success is measured in association: if, one day, a visitor thinks of Singapore and instinctively thinks of pineapple tarts, the work will have been worth it. Their pastries are conduits for something larger: a sense of belonging that can be shared and tasted.





