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Arriving near block 50A Marine Terrace, he steps out of the taxi at four in the morning, stern-faced, wearing a blood-red T-shirt and black bermudas. His sole companion, a small square brown sling bag no bigger than his palm, dangles from one shoulder. He trudges through the plaza, making his way past the whimsical Christmas lights adorning the hawker centre, and into a small cramp wet market. He stops, at stall 01-503.
Even before dawn breaks, the wet market still manages to breathe life to the unearthly hour. Some stalls drenched in the glow of warm orange light, others illuminated by sterile fluorescence, while butchers’ display cases glare with pink light. Overpowering the chatter between stall owners is the ear-splitting screech of containers being dragged across the market floor and knives clanking against honing rods.
Here, just as it has been for the past forty years of his life, is where he earns his keep. He is none other than 51-year-old Tan Chee Beng, a wet market pork butcher.
Mr Tan, known fondly as ‘Ah Beng’ to those around him, begins by hosing down the stall’s display case with water and thoroughly wiping down his table and chopping block. Then, from a pouch next to where he keeps his bag, he lays down an assortment of ten knives, varying in shape and size.
When asked about the knives, Mr Tan’s face lit up, his stern expression washed over with enthusiasm.
With broken English and a glint in his eyes, he explained, “deboning, chopping bones and slicing meat are all using different knives one. The one you use to chop bone you cannot use to go and slice, and the knife used to slice cannot be used to chop.”
Around three in the morning, before Mr Tan even reaches the market, his pork has already been delivered in a trunk next to his stall – 2 whole pigs cut into 4 large chunks.
“I always come early to prepare, I want debone the pig because they come in big pieces and it takes time to debone them” mentions Mr Tan.
Watching Mr Tan debone his meat is unlike what one would expect to see from a butcher. He only occasionally hacks the pork at the chopping block. Most times, with poise and precision, he carefully uses his knife to extract the bone from the meat, leaving behind near perfect slices of pork, placing the deboned meat neatly in the display case.
He continues for an hour, twice walking to a narrow opening beside the wet market to smoke. At 6am, Mr Tan takes his final puff for the morning, as his first customer arrives.
“Ah Beng, the usual”, said the grey-haired woman in Hokkien, as she walks off, trolley in hand.
Mr Tan nods, and works his meat grinder.
“A lot of aunties and uncles, most probably over eighty per cent. But not a lot of young people” said Mr Tan, of his regular customers.
The elderly lady returns a few minutes later, her trolley laden with groceries. She hands Mr Tan six dollars and smiles, a bag of ground pork an addition to her groceries.
Over the course of the morning, 14 people visited his stall, most elderly Chinese and the rest foreign domestic workers.
Ms Ong Gek Hiok, an 80-year-old retiree who lives nearby, is a long-time friend and patron of the stall. She has known Mr Tan for over 40 years.
She recounts, “when he (Mr Tan) was a little boy, he was always together with his parents. When his parents were selling pork, he was sleeping next to the stall in a camp bed. So when the father died, he slowly took over the stall”.
Mr Tan starts closing his stall at 11. He counts his earnings, which is kept in a round container that seems less than half-filled, and locks it in a box beneath the table. Finally, he wipes the blood from his disposable apron, hangs it above his display case, grabs his bag, and takes off.
When asked if it was difficult to make ends meet as a butcher, Mr Tan laughed. Then he paused. His smile waning, he answered.
“It’s ok la I feel."
Side Bar: Cuts of pork one can acquire from a wet market butcher
Compared to supermarkets, wet markets in Singapore usually offer a fresher and wider variety of pork. Supermarkets are always well-stocked with pre-packed cuts of pork for sale, such as the belly, tenderloin, bones and ribs.
Wet market butchers such as Mr Tan only get about two pigs worth of pork a day, with the meat often being sold out by the end of the morning. However, what wet market butchers lack in quantity is made up with variety.
Wet market butchers such as Mr Tan sell every part of the pig, from more commonly seen cuts to more exotic cuts such as pig innards, pig trotters and pig tails, with many even selling entire pig heads.
In Singapore, pig trotters are usually eaten braised, and pig tails oftentimes used in soups. As for pig innards such as the intestines, stomach, liver and heart, they are frequently relished in dishes such as pig organ soup or kway Chap (braised pig innards eaten with rectangular rice noodles).
Before being banned in Singapore, one unique delicacy that wet market butchers used to sell were cubes of hardened pigs’ blood. It was a common sight then, having even been sold by Mr Tan’s father.
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