Chef wooed future wife with a dinner for one
Ichef b October 16, 1957 d June 29, 2020
n the barren ethnic culinary landscape of Wellington in the early 1990s, Rajah Vellasamy’s Malaysian cuisine was a burst of much-needed flavour.
His flamboyant style, coupled with his authentic dishes, earned him a reputation as the real deal in Malaysian food.
Vellasamy, who has died aged 62, opened Satay Malaysia in 1990, one of the first Malaysian restaurants in the city.
He had learned his craft on the streets of Kuala Lumpur from street food hawkers.
Those hawkers were a tough bunch, he recalled many years later. They would not give anything away in the early days as they got him to do all the menial tasks. Every few months they would drop in one secret or other about the preparation of a dish.
Vellasamy had always been interested in food and had grown up learning how to cook from his father. But he came to cooking professionally later in life.
Kanagarajah Vellasamy was born in Kuala Lumpur, and raised in that city with his older brother and younger sister.
He followed his father into work as a lineman for the Malaysian Electricity Board at the age of 14.
After more than 20 years in the job, he took advantage of the early retirement fund offered by the Electricity Board and flew out to New Zealand, where he did a recce to find the perfect spot to start his next career, as a chef and restaurant patron.
He travelled from Auckland to Wellington, where he found a dearth of Asian restaurants and only one small Malaysian eatery.
He returned to Kuala Lumpur, where he took formal cooking classes while moonlighting on the streets working for a street food hawker.
When he was ready to return to New Zealand, he filled a shipping container with everything he needed to open his restaurant – chairs, tables, pots and pans.
He set up shop in Des Britten’s old Coachman premises in Courtenay Place and quickly gained a loyal customer base.
His fish curry and dry lamb curry were legendary, bordering on famous, food critic David Burton says. ‘‘They tasted pretty much the same as what you’d get from a hawker in Malaysia.
‘‘He never bought in his roti. He made his to order. As a trademark of his own integrity and excellence he had his own way of presenting it making it so thin he would serve it crumpled up like a bit of paper.’’
His customers remember him spinning the roti chennai breads in the air like flying saucers. It was a mesmerising thing to watch through the window of his kitchen, and Vellasamy played to his audience.
Quality was hugely important to him. His yardstick was that, if he wouldn’t serve it to his family, he wouldn’t serve it to his customers.
He made every sauce from scratch, starting with roasting peanuts for his famous satay sauce. Nothing came out of a bottle or a jar, and nothing was served from the freezer.
A few years after arriving in New Zealand, he met his future wife, Christina.
In between shifts, Vellasamy would sometimes visit the TAB in Courtenay Place, where Christina worked part-time, and eventually he worked up the courage to ask her to his restaurant. It was a memorable date. She sat at a table for one while he cooked her one dish after the next – his romantic CV served up in a series of spicy dishes.
Christina recalls a veritable banquet. ‘‘He brought me just about every dish on the menu, serving them all so proudly.
‘‘Satay, roti, gado gado, mee goreng, murtabak. By the time he served up the chicken rendang, I had to admit defeat.’’
They married three years later and together they had four sons.
Meanwhile, business was so good that Vellasamy moved into a larger premise around the corner in Allen St. From there he moved to Island Bay Parade, then to Cuba St, before ending up in Strathmore.
Wherever he moved to in the city, his loyal customers always followed him.
Among the more than 400 people who came to pay their respects at his funeral service were his friends from the Chinese, Malaysian, Greek, Italian and Fijian cooking community.
They remembered him as a brilliant and authentic cook and a sensational host.
He was known to come out into the restaurant to chat with customers every evening, sometimes even sharing his recipes.
No-one made a satay sauce like Rajah Vellasamy, says his old friend George Apostolakis, who was 15 when Vellasamy moved into the Courtenay Place premises above his family shop in 1990.
‘‘He’d give you the recipe, tell you the method. You’d go home and try and replicate the dish but you could never get close.’’
Vellasamy was hugely influential in the Wellington restaurant scene, bringing authenticity to Malaysian food served here, says Apostolakis.
He had a big talent and a huge heart. But it was his heart that ultimately failed him, and he died peacefully in hospital while undergoing kidney dialysis.
He is survived by his wife and four sons. –
Do you know someone who deserves a Life Story? Email obituaries@dompost.co.nz