On The Table: Breaking Bread
Exploring Irish soda bread, growing up and ambition borne out of a sense of community with chef Andrew Walsh.
ANDREW WALSH WAS a teenager in Ireland with a curious nature and a knack for trouble 24 years ago. Today, at 38, he’s one of the more influential chefs in Singapore, a well-trodden ground for the food-obsessed. He was running the dessert bar at Jason Atherton’s Pollen Street Social in London before coming to town in 2012 to head Esquina and The Study, also by Atherton.
But you didn’t really know him until 2015, when he opened Cure, a modern European restaurant on Keong Saik Road. Its name is inspired by the Latin word, ‘curare’, or in other words, ‘to take care of’. While he keeps himself busy with other concepts like Butcher Boy, a contemporary Asian-fusion grill, and soon, a wine bar, Cure is where the heart is. It is cosy, understated and hits close to Walsh’s home with its offering of solid Irish cuisine. At Cure, seemingly unfussy food has been fussed over a great deal, proving a point that there’s more to Irish food than potatoes, and something as simple as a soda bread could ruin bread for you for a while. Here, we find out the significance behind Irish soda bread and what it means to be Andrew Walsh.
What is the importance of soda bread to you?
Andrew Walsh (AW): It’s a staple that brings back memories of growing up in Ireland. I’m from a family of eight and money was tight. My dad made a living from fixing telephone poles and my mum was in and out of cleaning jobs. With that and a lot of mouths to feed, soda bread, a humble loaf of oats, buttermilk and treacle, is an easy everyday food. We’d have it with butter and tea in the morning, and as a snack before bedtime.
What were you like as a child?
AW: As witty and handsome as I am now. I was always inquisitive and liked being in tune with what was around me. I was also into sports, like Gaelic football and hurling, and I was a bit of a troublemaker at school. I got into fights, made fun of the teachers and skipped class, which got me into cooking. I wanted to earn my own money and I liked that grasp of independence. I started working during the summer holidays, from washing dishes to running the grill section, before going off to culinary school. I left school before I could finish it.
Since leaving school at 15 for the kitchen, what has cooking opened your eyes to?
AW: When you drop out of school and enter culinary school, you get obsessed with food. But it’s what comes with it: travelling the world, meeting other great peers and the guests. It’s a great education and a great licence to travel.
So it helps with personal growth.
AW: Definitely, only if you’re willing to explore and never give up. It can be easy to throw in the towel.
Were there times when you wanted to give up?
AW: Yes. Like the time when I was 23 and super broke in London. I said to myself, what is the point? I’m working 80 hours and I have no money. It was also a very abusive, regimented way of running a kitchen, too. But you have to make a promise to yourself that when you do make it, nothing will be taken away from you. You just pursue it and maximise it to the best, without diluting yourself.
Kitchens must have seemed like hell in the past.
AW: I don’t condone it. You could have pans put over your head or soup poured over. It was the survival of the fittest. If you were a senior chef de partie, you’d want to be a junior sous, and when
“It was the survival of the fittest.
You’d be willing to take anyone out of your way.”
you’re the sous, you’d want to be the chef. You’d be willing to take anyone out of your way.
Are you a perfectionist?
AW: What chef isn’t? If you’re not a perfectionist, there’s something wrong. If you let the small things go, bigger things will come.
In your early days as a cook, what did you learn that helped you as a chef and a leader?
AW: I was never afraid of hard work, confrontation or failure. I would have no problem starting all over again, tomorrow in the morning. What also helped shape me in the past to where I am today is my ambition. I think this has been in Irish history for a long time.
The Great Irish Famine forced people to leave their homes as refugees, and because they’d have to go away, they’d make sure they returned as a success. A chef once said to me: “If you ever want to get angry, just get angry with yourself because the aggression will drive that fear in you to succeed.”
What does it mean for you to cook for people?
AW: It’s a great opportunity to give people an escapism from rituals to a happy place.
How has your cooking philosophy evolved over the years?
AW: I don’t pigeonhole myself. I’m not afraid to turn my hand to any cuisine. I believe in my palate and I believe in the guys whom I work with.
What do you think was the best thing that happened to you in 2020?
AW: I got my first chance to eat properly, sleep, read, exercise and clear my mind. I found gratitude for where I am.
How would you like to be remembered once you leave Earth?
AW: Whatever way they see fit. For my family, a great brother and son. For my staff, a good leader and team player. For the community, hardworking, positive and energetic. But that’s a question you should be asking behind my back.