• Alex Teo, 36, left his corporate job to take over his family's joss paper business.
• The journey has not been easy in modern Singapore, where religious affiliations are declining.
• Teo's career goal is to reinvent the traditional business for the younger generation.

The latest smartphone, a three-story villa, and a private jet. Alex Teo has sold it all — for the dead.

Teo, 36, is the third-generation owner of Ban Kah Hiang Trading, one of Singapore's oldest joss paper businesses. They sell incense sticks, joss papers, and paper effigies — or paper replicas of real-life objects — which are designed to be burned as part of Chinese ancestral worship outside homes and in temples.

His grandfather opened the shop in the 1950s before his father took over in the early 1990s.

But it's an increasingly tough business to run in Singapore, where religious affiliations are waning. Many joss paper business owners of his father's generation have closed down because their kids did not want to take over, he said.

So, at 28, he stepped up. "I thought it would be a pity if I were not to continue it," he told Business Insider.

Now, he's on a mission to reinvent the traditional business for the new generation.

He had no interest at first

During traditional Chinese festivals, believers in Chinese folk religion burn joss paper — also known as "hell money" — as an offering to deities or ancestors.

Some also burn paper effigies of the latest products, such as cars and cameras, for their ancestors.

"The belief is that by burning these items, they will become 'real' in the afterlife and can also be used by their loved ones there," Terence Heng, a sociologist from the University of Liverpool, told BI.

Although Teo grew up helping at the shop, he was never very religious and had no interest in taking over. After graduating from college with a degree in business management, he worked for the public service and then an insurance company, assessing medical claims.

But things changed in 2016 when his dad got sick. His parents, then in their late 50s, asked him whether he could take over.

"I thought, 'Should I give up my corporate job? But I would have to give up some social life,'" he recalled, explaining that most people in the industry are significantly older, unlike the colleagues he had formed friendships with in his previous jobs.

Teo, who now has four kids, said his wife supported the career switch. "She thought that if I were to do my own business, I would have more time for her," he said.

He was also enticed by the thought of being his own boss.

"If I work hard in the corporate world, I can only wait for my bonus. But here, I'm the boss. If I work hard, I earn more money," he said.

The business of religion in modern society

Still, his journey has not been easy. Since taking over the business, Teo says he has seen retail sales fall as the younger generation drifts away from religious beliefs.

In Singapore, between 2010 and 2020, there was an increased proportion of residents with no religious affiliations across all age groups, data from the Singapore Department of Statistics showed. The same data showed that the percentage of Taoists and Buddhists — religious groups that use joss paper products — fell by 2.1% and 2.2%, respectively.

The decline in religious beliefs is part of a wider trend across the world. In the US, around 28% of adults described themselves as atheists, agnostics, or "nothing in particular" when asked about their religion — up from 16% in 2007, a 2024 Pew Research Center survey found.

Meanwhile, complaints about the environmental impact of burning joss paper have been simmering in Singapore.

In February, the Singapore government ran a second campaign to improve burning etiquette by encouraging people to pray in temples instead of outside their homes and to clean up after prayers, per a press release from the Alliance for Action.

Teo said that in the past, business at his family's retail shop would pick up during festive periods like Lunar New Year and the Hungry Ghost Festival but lull during other times of the year.

Running the retail shop also affected his parents, who worked over 10 hours daily and wanted to retire.

So, in May last year, Teo sold the retail shop to focus on wholesale distribution to companies and temples from their warehouse.

Teo saw it as an opportunity to invest more time in innovating their products to meet the needs of a changing consumer base.

"We had to think about how we can prolong tradition and culture to fit into the current modern mindset," he said. "If we were to continue to sell the traditional way like my dad did, I don't think we can be sustainable."

Keeping up with the times

In 2023, Teo partnered with his close friend, Chris Huang, who works in FinTech, to establish Base Genesis, a modern joss paper startup.

The pair invested a mid-five-figure amount to set up the business. While Teo focuses on operations, Huang oversees finances. They've since hired seven employees who work on branding, marketing, and livestream sales.

Their new business aims to innovate traditional joss paper products to appeal to younger generations — from packaging to sustainability.

Early this year, they were approached by MullenLowe, an advertising agency, to develop an eco-friendly hell note. The "Eco Hell Note" has a denomination with 48 zeroes — the largest possible denomination of money in the Chinese language. Instead of burning a stack of notes, burning one piece would suffice. Teo added that their note is ashless and smokeless, unlike traditional notes that create smog when burned.

"Burning joss paper is deep-rooted in our Chinese culture," he said, adding that a ban on the practice is unlikely to happen despite frequent complaints. "So we have to come out with a compromise to control the pollution and not become obsolete," he said.

Teo, who sources the paper from China, said the team had to experiment with different types of paper to determine which material is the most eco-friendly.

Developing such products doesn't come cheap. Although they have not decided on a price for their Eco Hell Note, their eco-friendly products are slightly more expensive. A pack of 500 "Eco-friendly Gentle Smoke Joss Sticks" costs 11.50 Singapore dollars, or $8.50. In comparison, a pack of 500 traditional sandalwood joss sticks costs SG$10.

"Everything takes time and money. You need to do a lot of research and development," said Huang. Each phase will come with additional costs, and it will take time for the company to grow, he added.

Their Eco Hell Note is not yet available for purchase, but the pair hopes that it will take off among younger Singaporeans once they launch it in time for Tomb Sweeping Day, a tradition for honoring ancestors in April next year.

Heng, who researches Chinese religions, said their eco-friendly products would be better received by the younger generation, who are more eco-conscious. While they are not as religious, they may keep up the practice out of filial piety.

"It does still align with the demands of ritualistic burning, where a physical object is transformed into a spiritual one. It's a really good first step in finding solutions to burning joss paper," he said.

Beyond innovation, Teo hopes to expand the business to the Western market, specifically to those who engage in these religious practices.

"We will maybe tweak the design to cater to their taste. For example, come out with a hell note in US dollars," he said.

These are more experimental ideas, Teo said. "But we are still keeping in mind the tradition and culture. That's what we are trying to preserve."

• Floating fish farms used to be a common sight along Singapore's coast.
• But now, their numbers are dwindling: As of October, there were 74 sea-based fish farms left, down from 98 in 2023.
• Local farmers say they face high operational costs and cheaper imports from regional competitors.

Once a week, Alvin Yeo hops onto a small, white skiff at Lim Chu Kang jetty and heads out to a farm on the water owned by his dad.

It's a breezy five-minute journey that takes him past dozens of similar floating farms along the Straits of Johor, which separates Singapore from the neighboring country of Malaysia.

Formed by interlocking planks held together with thick nails and buoyed by floating barrels, these platforms are living relics of the country's fishing village past.

The sun is harsh on most days, but the water is surprisingly calm, save for the waves created by the passing coastal guard boats patrolling the area. Towering apartment buildings loom in the background, a stark contrast to the weatherworn wooden platforms bobbing in the water.

Yeo's father — a former civil engineer — has been in the farming industry for almost 30 years, having started a fish farm in the '90s with his brother out of passion.

"My father is a hobbyist. He likes to rear fish," Yeo, 35, told Business Insider. "But he's not exactly a businessman, so the farm wasn't really making any money."

For small businesses like theirs, it's a constant struggle to stay afloat. Amid rising costs, environmental challenges, and a growing reluctance among younger generations to take on the demanding job, traditional farming in Singapore almost feels like a sunset industry.

Yeo is a rare exception.

Dwindling fish farm numbers

Around 2020, Yeo — a freelance musician — decided to join the trade. Together with his father, the duo separated from the original business to start Heng Heng Fish Farm.

Like most traditional farms, the fish are reared in open-net cages lowered directly into the sea.

While his father oversees the farm's day-to-day operations, Yeo mainly handles the business side of things.

Yeo is also trying to adopt more modern and sustainable techniques to their traditional farm, such as using solar panels for energy and introducing pelleted feed, which pollutes the water less than typical fish feed made from expired confectionary and other food by-products.

"I just felt that I needed to do it because I have feelings for the sea I grew up in. So I didn't want to see it just deteriorate as years go by," he said.

Much like street peddlers and traditional villages, the floating fish farms are a part of Singapore's cultural and economic identity that is rapidly disappearing as the city-state evolves past its fishing village origins.

The country's "kelongs" — offshore wooden platforms used to trap fish — used to be a common sight along the coast. The government stopped issuing new licenses in 1965.

Now, there are only four "kelongs" left in Singapore.

"With the dwindling catch from the wild and increasing cost of raw materials for maintenance of the 'kelong,' 'kelong' owners also saw the need to move toward fish farming as a viable commercial operation," the Singapore Food Agency, or SFA, told BI in a statement, adding that some of them have transitioned to coastal fish farms over the years.

Many locals still refer to these floating fish farms as "kelongs," even though they're not quite the same thing, Yeo said.

Fish farms are dwindling in numbers too, even as the resource-scarce country inches toward the deadline for its "30 by 30" goal — an initiative set by the Singapore government to be able to produce 30% of its nutritional needs by 2030.

Tough to beat prices from regional competitors

According to SFA data, there were 74 sea-based fish farms left in Singapore as of October, down from 98 at the end of 2023. This means about a quarter of these farms have shuttered in the past year.

Some farmers told the local paper The Straits Times that they had between June 2023 and June 2024 to take up a grant of 100,000 Singapore dollars, or $74,500, from the SFA to help them wind down operations. Those who had accepted the grant cited high costs, environmental conditions, and retirement as reasons for exiting the industry. The SFA did not share with BI the number of farmers who accepted the grant.

"To be competitive in the market, you have to be cheaper than imports. But it's hard to fight the cost of imports, especially from places like China, Indonesia, and Malaysia," Yeo said.

The cost of running a business in Singapore tends to be higher compared to neighboring countries, Kevin Cheong, an adjunct lecturer at the Singapore Management University who recently co-authored a study on sustainable fish farming in Singapore, told BI.

"Electricity costs, land costs, labor costs, all these things stack up against the consumer," Cheong said. "Primary production in Singapore, essentially agriculture, would be very challenging."

In Yeo's farm, the tilapia he grows can be harvested in six months. At the current scale of his production, he can harvest 12 batches of around 7,000 fish each in a year.

Since the floating farms are made from wood, their structure requires regular upkeep — and a metric ton of Chengal wood can cost up to SG$4,000, Yeo said.

"We don't really earn much. At the end of the day, it's just enough to keep the farm running," Yeo said.

A challenging environment

Beyond cost constraints, farmers are bogged down by the effects of the climate crisis.

Rising temperatures can lead to a higher incidence of disease outbreaks and algae blooms, Toh Tai Chong, a senior lecturer at the Reef Ecology Lab at the National University of Singapore, told BI.

Algae blooms are deadly for fish because they deplete the oxygen in the water and cause widespread fish death, he added.

"Open-pen sea-based farms are particularly susceptible because the fishes are reared in the natural environment, which is almost impossible to regulate," he said.

Farmers, in turn, have to grapple with worsening conditions.

"In my dad's era, fish didn't really have to be taken care of," Yeo said, gesturing at the bags of fish pellets behind him. "You could simply feed them till they got big, then sell them. But now, you have to feed and raise them."

Dean Jerry, an aquaculture professor who teaches at James Cook University's Singapore and Australian campuses, told BI that to cope with the changing environment, sea-based fish farmers have to rear more hardy species or invest in aquaculture technologies.

Many of these solutions are focused on closed-cage containment so farmers have more control over the environment, he said.

The challenge is compounded by the fact that most sea-based farms don't have mains power, he said. This means farmers will end up incurring extra costs installing diesel generators or solar panels to run these systems, he added.

"It's very, very costly to implement any sort of technological solutions because a lot of technological solutions will require power," he said.

The challenging nature of the job seems to have discouraged younger locals from stepping up to continue the trade.

Yeo, who only knows of one other farmer around his age, has two employees — a husband and wife duo from Myanmar who work and sleep on the floating farm.

"Local help is just impossible to get," he said.

Efforts to stay afloat

To help farmers sustain their businesses, the local government has stepped in with plans to overhaul the aquaculture sector.

In November, the government announced its Singapore Aquaculture Plan. Some new initiatives include increasing the supply of locally produced, genetically superior eggs and facilitating the exports of local fish to China.

"Our fish farms, as part of local production, cushion us from overseas supply disruptions and complement our efforts to diversify import sources of seafood," said Damian Chan, the CEO of SFA, per a media release.

The SFA told BI in a statement that farmers who are keen to increase their farms' productivity can rely on the SFA for advice and funding support for technology adoption.

On the other hand, the Singapore government will support those who choose to exit the industry by providing job-matching and training initiatives, it said.

Despite uncertainties about the aquaculture industry, some young farmers are finding alternate ways to stay afloat. Wong Jing Kai, who left his marketing job a decade ago to run Ah Hua Kelong, is one of them.

"Farming is considered a sunset industry," said Wong, 35. "Nobody wants to do it. So I'm like, if people don't do, I'll do it then."

But instead of being a wholesaler and pitting himself against more competitive imports, Wong opened Scaled — a seafood restaurant — and a fish soup hawker stall, to move his fish stock.

He can support his farm by supplying his own fish to his eateries, he said. "My plan is to have five fish soup stores and three to four restaurants on land. Then, I think we're more or less covered," he said.

Others, like Yeo, believe that the industry will survive as long as local consumers become more receptive to eating local fish.

"Of course, I hope to grow the business and be in this industry for a long time," he said. He hopes to have a high-tech fish farm one day — ideally on land, where conditions are less unpredictable.

"I take each day as it comes," he added.

• Brandon Chia and his wife felt like they didn't have enough time for their newborn in Singapore.
• They are both nurses and when they came across a job opportunity in New Zealand, Chia applied.
• Since moving, their quality of life has improved, Chia said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Brandon Chia, 31, a nurse in the South Island of New Zealand. Chia moved from Singapore to New Zealand in 2022. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2022, my wife and I had our first baby. We were juggling the demands of parenthood while working as ICU nurses in Singapore.

After 16 weeks of paid maternity leave — the standard amount for Singaporean mothers — my wife, Jiar Lin, and I started working alternate shifts to care for our newborn daughter.

I worked the morning shift, and she worked the afternoon. We would hand our baby over to each other and go out to earn money.

When our daughter was about to turn one, we realized we weren't spending enough time with her. We were always exhausted from work and didn't have time to enjoy time together as a family.

So, we thought, what other options can we consider? Quitting our jobs wasn't possible because the cost of living in Singapore was high.

At that time, we noticed many job advertisements on social media from Australia and New Zealand that were looking for ICU-trained nurses. My wife said, "Just apply and see how it goes." So, I did.

Within two weeks, I heard from the hospital. Two hours after my interview, I received a job offer. It all happened so fast. I remember thinking, "OK, this is getting real." My wife and I had a chat and then decided we'd give it a go.

Initially, our parents didn't want us to go. The flight from Singapore to New Zealand takes almost 10 hours. But we told them not to feel like we were abandoning them. Rather, it was a way for us to have more time for our daughter.

At the time, my parents were full-time caregivers for my late grandfather, while my wife's parents lived in another city. We knew we didn't want to ask them to look after our daughter on a permanent basis.

Our quality of life increased

In October 2022 — around four months after receiving the job offer — I moved to the West Coast of the South Island in New Zealand, a three-hour drive from Christchurch. My wife and daughter joined me seven months later once things had settled down.

The South Island feels like the countryside. There are no shopping centers near our house, and many people grow their own fruit and vegetables. We live in a nice community where people and colleagues often share their produce. I also started to learn gardening and now grow tomatoes in our backyard.

From the beginning, I noticed a big difference in the work culture. The environment is less stressful, and there's a lot of emphasis on not bringing work back home.

The shift patterns here are more regular. In one week, for example, I'll work the afternoon shift for three, and then the next week, I'll work a stretch of night shifts. In comparison, at my previous job, I sometimes worked a morning shift the day after completing an afternoon shift.

In New Zealand, my wife is able to stay home to care for both our daughter, who is now 3, and our 9-month-old son, who was born here. She says it's a privilege to be able to spend time with the kids in their formative years — that's the reason we moved to New Zealand. She plans to return to work on a part-time basis to keep her nursing skills up to date in the future.

My annual income increased by around 15% in New Zealand. However, income tax rates can go as high as 30%. In comparison, the national income tax in Singapore is 11.5% for salaries between SG$80,001 and SG$120,000, and lower for those earning less.

Although I make less overall after taxes, I get more cash on hand compared to Singapore. There's more flexibility because I don't have to contribute to the Central Provident Fund, a compulsory savings account in Singapore comparable in some ways to a 401(k) in the US. In Singapore, the account is mandatory and run by the government.

I also get more annual leave in New Zealand — around 25 days in total.

We get to spend more time together as a family

With more spare time, we get to take short monthly family vacations. Sometimes, we drive north to hot springs, down south to explore the rainforest, or to Christchurch to eat the Chinese food we miss.

In New Zealand, we can afford to have a car. Our decent secondhand Toyota was around $7,500. In comparison, a car in Singapore can cost more than $100,000. It's much more convenient than taking buses and trains everywhere.

The drawback is that we no longer have support from family members. We've made friends since moving here — most of whom we've connected with through our Instagram page. So, if we need help, we'll reach out to them. But of course, it's always a lot easier to reach out to family for help.

Raising kids in a less stressful environment

When I was in school as a kid in Singapore, there was a huge emphasis on doing well academically. Even when I was working as a nurse, I remember my colleagues getting together during lunch break to discuss national exam papers and the tutors they needed for their own children. I didn't even have kids then and was already aware of the stress it could cause.

In comparison, the focus here is more on character-building, outdoor adventure, and being close to nature. Hopefully, our children can pursue whatever dreams they want.

We rent a two-bedroom house in New Zealand for 340 New Zealand dollars, or around $200 a week. We've received our New Zealand residency, and our next goal is to buy a house.

Our plan for now is to stay in New Zealand and take trips home regularly to visit family.

• Mercer's Quality of Living City Ranking 2024 looks at factors such as political stability and healthcare.
• There were 12 Asian cities that made it into the top 100 in the rankings this year.
• Singapore was the only Asian city to make the top 50.

If you're considering moving to Asia, a new report can help determine which city would be the top choice.

Mercer, a human resource consulting service, recently released its yearly Quality of Living City Ranking, which ranks 241 cities across five continents. The ranking process considers factors such as political stability, healthcare, education, infrastructure, and socio-cultural environment.

In an era of remote work, the ranking also considered the cost of living in different cities.

Mercer said that the most "successful destinations" were those that "blend flexible governance around mobile talent with a high quality of life and an affordable cost of living."

Although many European cities were featured high on the list, with Zurich maintaining its top spot, 12 Asian cities made the top 100 this year. Singapore was the only city in Asia to make the top 50, at 30th position.

Take a look at the top 10 cities in Asia:

10. Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates (85th)

Abu Dhabi recently ranked second, with Dubai taking first place, among the most popular locations for executive nomads, according to the Executive Nomad Index by real estate firm Savills.

The capital of the UAE is known for its modern skyline and shopping megacenters. Expats make up more than 80% of its population, per InterNations, a Munich-based expat network.

9. Taipei, Taiwan (85th)

Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, is tied with Abu Dhabi at 85th. Between 2019 and 2021, Taiwan was ranked first out of 59 destinations in the InterNations Expat Insider survey for the job security expats enjoy and the state of the local economy.

Alex Teachey, a New Yorker who moved to Taipei in 2020, previously told BI that he enjoys the city for its affordability.

"I live a 20-minute bike ride from my office — I never could have afforded anything remotely similar if I'd stayed in New York City," he said.

8. Dubai, UAE (83rd)

Known for its glitzy skyscrapers and modern architecture, Dubai is also an expat hotspot. According to the Dubai Statistics Center, 92% of its 3,655,000-person population are non-Emirati.

Expats in Dubai previously told BI that they liked the city for its convenience and ease of making friends. "There are so many interesting and new people to meet here with different perspectives than we're used to," said Kiran Ali, who relocated to the city with her family earlier this year.

7. Seoul, South Korea (81st)

Seoul, the capital of South Korea, clearly has more to offer than just K-pop. With a population of 9.4 million, the city is popular for expats seeking affordability and a rich culture.

Besides Seoul, Busan was the second city in South Korea to make the top 100, ranking 100th.

6. Hong Kong (76th)

Hong Kong is known for being a global financial center with a thriving food scene. It is also one of the most densely populated cities in the world, with an overall density of around 17,311 people per square mile.

Kaitlyn Cheung, who moved from California to Hong Kong, previously told BI that she was impressed by the country's efficient public transport system and found the city to be diverse. "I routinely made friends from all over the world, which allowed me to broaden my horizons and learn about different cultures," she said.

5. Nagoya, Japan (74th)

Located in the center of Japan, Nagoya is the capital of Japan's Aichi Prefecture with a population of 2.3 million people.

LaJuan, a content creator, moved to a shoebox apartment in the city and pays $230 a month in rent. He appreciates the city's slow and simple pace of life.

"Nagoya, to me, is a perfect balance of both city life and just having some space for yourself," he told BI.

4. Osaka-Kobe, Japan (68th)

Osaka is a port city known for its nightlife and history. It's Japan's second-largest metropolitan area after Tokyo. Kobe, a city known for beef, is 22 miles from Osaka, or just 12 minutes away by the Shinkansen bullet train.

Grace Cheng, who visited Japan 11 times, said Osaka is ideal for foodies. "Whenever I go there, my sole mission is to eat," she told BI, adding that she recommends the city's tonkatsu and takoyaki.

3. Yokohama, Japan (58th)

Located less than 20 miles south of Tokyo, Yokohama is a port city with skyscrapers and is home to Japan's biggest Chinatown.

The district around Yokohama Station earned the top spot for livability in the Greater Tokyo rankings by Recruit Co., a Toyko-based human resource service, for seven consecutive years, per local reports. The same survey found that reasons for wanting to live in the area include the availability of cultural facilities and large-scale shopping complexes.

"Yokohama was so safe that I took public buses by myself at 8 to meet friends in different parts of the city," Alicia Erickson, who moved to the city as a kid, told BI.

2. Tokyo, Japan (56th)

The capital of Japan is home to over 14 million residents and is easily recognized for its neon-lit skyscrapers and busy streets.

David McElhinney, who moved to Tokyo in 2018, was surprised by cultural differences. He added that knowing how to speak a little Japanese goes a long way in the city. "Big cities — especially ones as dynamic, complex, and multifaceted as the Japanese capital — always bring new surprises," he said.

1. Singapore (30th)

Singapore, a small island nation in Southeast Asia, was ranked the highest among Asian cities on the list. Widely hailed as the "most expensive city," Singapore's foreign workforce makes up around 30% of its population of 6 million.

Nick Burns, who transferred from San Francisco to Singapore, said he appreciates the city for its affordable healthcare, safety, and hawker food. "I can't see us leaving anytime soon," he said.

• Chloe Tan, 30, quit her first job out of college as an auditor.
• She decided to help out at her parent's eatery, which serves Chinese home-style dishes.
• Seven years later, she expanded the business and opened New Station Rice Bar.

As a young adult, Chloe Tan followed the same path as many other Singaporeans in her generation: Go to college, get a degree, and then work a stable 9-to-5 job.

But three months into her first job as an auditor, Tan quit.

"I just remember not really liking it and not being excited," Tan, who has a degree in accounting, told Business Insider.

At the same time, she wanted to help her aging parents retire. They had spent the past three decades running a food store selling zi char, or Chinese home-style dishes.

So, upon quitting, Tan decided to help out at their shop, New Station Snack Bar. It didn't bother her that, at first, she had to take a pay cut of around 30%. "That was where our childhood was," she said, recalling how, as kids, she and her siblings would help with menial tasks like bringing napkins to customers or recommending dishes to eat.

This time around, however, her contributions to the eatery were different. For the next three years, Tan worked as a cashier, managed accounts, and did marketing. She was comfortable but felt like she wasn't doing anything fruitful.

Things changed during the COVID-19 pandemic. During lockdown, Singapore's offices and schools were closed, and dining at restaurants was not allowed.

In three days, Tan, with the help of her friends, launched a website and arranged island-wide food delivery. Singapore's land area is 284 square miles, about the same size as Austin, Texas. 

The struggles she faced during the pandemic showed her what she was capable of. "It kind of ignited a passion and a fire in me like, hey, you know what? Maybe I can do more things with my life," she said.

It was at this point in her career that she knew she could expand her family's business.

Her accounting skills came in handy

Putting her accounting skills to use, Tan started to work backward to figure out how much she could afford to lose.

She invested around 40,000 Singapore dollars, or $30,000, in her business. She kept costs low by opting for secondhand goods and was lucky to receive free equipment from some retiring chefs.

After almost two years of planning and renovation, Tan opened her restaurant in February this year. Located in Fortune Centre, an old mall in central Singapore, her shop is a 10-minute drive from her parent's restaurant. As a sister outlet, Tan named her new business after her parents' eatery: New Station Rice Bar.

Initially, her parents didn't take her seriously

Tan recalled her dad asking why she made her life difficult by expanding their family business.

"My father referred to his own business and said, 'Hey, my business is now OK. It's not like it's not making money. Are you not happy with that?''" she recalled.

But it wasn't about the money. "I didn't want to waste my 20s just being too comfortable where I was," Tan said.

When she worked at their eatery, her parents discouraged her from setting foot in the kitchen.

"They felt like it was not where a lady should be around. There's fire, there's smoke, and to be honest, it's not a very nice environment," Tan said. If she wanted to be in the food and beverage business, she should manage accounts or do marketing — not cook, they said.

Her parents were also hesitant about teaching her how to cook. But Tan was determined. She harnessed the help of a zi char chef from Hong Kong, whom she only knows as Chef Wing.

Over three years, she consulted Chef Wing in person to learn how to develop recipes, cook dishes, and craft menus.

She had two main takeaways as his apprentice: respect for your customers and respect for the ingredients.

"I learned that the thing about F&B is that as long as you put effort into it, people will be able to taste the value," she said.

The lessons she learned were proven right

Almost 10 months since she opened the 500-square-foot restaurant, New Station Rice Bar has seen a steady flow of customers. Students from a nearby art college pop in for an after-school snack, while office workers visit the store for lunch.

Like her parents, Tan sells zi char dishes. However, unlike traditional zi char eateries, Tan keeps her menu lean, with only six main dishes ranging from SG$8.50 to SG$9.50.

She's also modernized her dishes by deviating from traditional recipes. The chicken in her signature curry chicken rice, for example, is made with Japanese-style breadcrumbs, and the curry has a thicker consistency.

But the most popular dish is salted egg chicken rice — also a bestseller at her parents' restaurant. For this, she fries small pieces of chopped chicken and slathers it in a creamy, sweet, and savory sauce. It's served alongside rice and a fried egg.

Tan Jun Hong, a public servant, learned about the restaurant on Instagram and now visits it regularly.

He said the real draw is the nostalgia it invokes in him. "I grew up visiting old-school zi char stores that served simple, affordable home-cooked-style dishes that you see here," he told BI. "It brings good food and good memories together."

The challenges of being a boss

"Running my own business made me realize that sometimes you just got to stop being so obsessed over certain things," Tan said. She's learned to live — not under — but alongside anxiety, she added.

"Business is like this. Every day, you're putting out different fires," she said, whether that is not having enough manpower or having a freezer break down during service.

When BI visited the store on a Friday afternoon, a water pipe had burst. Tan simply sighed. This is what she means, she said.

Being a boss is worlds apart from being an employee, she added. "It's really about grit and perseverance. Even if I'm sick and don't want to wake up and come to work, I still have to come down because I represent my team," said Tan, whose team has grown from two to five.

Sometimes, Tan worries about whether her lifestyle is sustainable. She works 12 hours, six days a week, and on her days off, she returns to the kitchen to do prep work.

Her struggles are consistent with other Singaporeans trying to make their mark in the challenging F&B industry.

Cherry Tan, 29, left her job as a flight attendant to open a hawker stall with her husband. Her parents were uncomfortable with her career change. "Even until today, they asked me why I had to give up a comfortable job," she told BI.

She estimates that she took a 50% pay cut when she stopped working for Singapore Airlines and has had to get used to the long hours and challenging working conditions.

Similarly, Iszahar Tambunan, 45, left his job as a ship broker to take over his family business. Like Tan, he experienced the unpredictability of running a business. "Business is not always the same every day. It's a different challenge," he said.

Despite the unpredictability of being a business owner, Tan's dream of retiring her parents is still her end goal.

Her parents have also come to support her.

Her mom, Oon Seok Sim, said she's not worried. "At worst, she loses some money. At least she tried. If she never tried, she'll never know," she said. "And anyway, she's doing pretty great now."

Tan, whose business recently became profitable, said her favorite part of running a business is seeing results. "Right now, it's about seeing the business grow. You can see customers returning," she said.

"That makes me want to wake up every day and still do it."

• Pristina Mok has worked at some of Singapore's top Michelin-star restaurants, like Odette and Zen.
• In 2023, she quit the big leagues and opened a small fine-dining restaurant in her home.
• Now, she serves up Southeast Asian-inspired dishes to 24 guests weekly and is happier than ever.

As 7:30 p.m. drew close, Pristina Mok set her dining table for eight guests, assembled gold cutlery, dimmed the lights, and sliced up some turbot fish.

From the quaint, cozy atmosphere, it looked like a dinner party with old friends. But this was the first time she would meet her guests.

This is Fragment — a modern Southeast Asian fine-dining restaurant located in Mok's two-bedroom public housing home on the island's western coast. And the 28-year-old serves the food, plated fine-dining style, right out of her home kitchen.

Quitting the restaurant grind

Mok's culinary journey started when she was 19. She joined the team at Odette, a three-Michelin-star modern French restaurant at the National Gallery of Singapore.

After a few years at Odette, she worked at Zen, a three-Michelin-star restaurant serving Nordic dishes with Asian influences. She also had stints at restaurants located inside luxury hotels like W Sentosa and Raffles Hotel.

Mok said the adrenaline rush used to keep her going through long, 14- to 16-hour days in the kitchen.

"But as you start to grow older and you advance further into your career, your body starts to give up on you," Mok said.

She questioned if she could last another 10 or 20 years working on the line.

"My wrist was strained because we carry sauté pots a lot. And especially when you're so busy, you don't really think about how heavy it is," Mok said.

In 2023, she quit her job as a sous chef at Singapore's Raffles Hotel.

She first became interested in private dining during the pandemic. And when she bought an apartment with her husband, Lionel Lim, the idea for Fragment finally panned out.

She started hosting guests in February, and her schedule is booked through the end of the year.

Fine dining, apartment-style

Upon entering Fragment, guests are often greeted by Pebble, Mok's poodle.

Mok seats eight guests three times a week, from Thursday to Saturday, for a 2.5-hour meal. Her eight-course menus, refreshed every three months, are priced at 168 Singapore dollars, or $130, before service taxes. The price does not include wine, though she offers a small selection of wines for an additional charge.

Her June menu consisted of dishes made from Hokkaido scallops, octopus and pork jowl, and roasted quail.

Her husband, who works in sales, helps her with service after work.

A cozy take on fine dining

Mok does not start service until all the guests have arrived. People are given a 7:30 p.m. arrival time, and the first courses start rolling out 30 minutes later.

Mok also tries to keep the experience casual. When BI visited Fragment, one of the couples dining there brought their golden retriever and their newborn baby in a stroller.

All the guests were barefoot, as is customary for visitors to Asian households.

Mok told BI her guests are mostly millennials in finance and banking. She also encourages guests — who may be sitting down at her table together for the first time — to interact and make connections.

Scaling down has its drawbacks

Running her own restaurant from her home as a one-woman show hasn't been easy.

"The other day, I fell sick, and I didn't have anyone that could cover my shift or could cover me," she said. "And I had to, unfortunately, cancel or reschedule the guests."

She also doesn't have access to restaurant-capacity kitchen equipment. The couple had to buy three home-sized refrigerators instead because the ones used in restaurants use too much power, she said.

And at the end of the night, her husband washes all the dishes by hand as the pair has yet to purchase a dishwasher.

Mok also has to deal with everything from procuring the groceries to paying her suppliers and balancing the books herself, which can get difficult "when the work piles up," she said.

Another thing she said she hadn't anticipated about the job was how intensely lonely it would be.

"It's difficult being alone like 90% of the time," she said. "I live, and I work, and I sleep here," she told BI.

But Mok said the freedom of being her own boss is worth it.

"Fragment means piecing the different parts of my life together to create something that is unique and different," she said.

"I love having my own business and doing private dining, and I have more control of my time," she added.