Ten minutes before The Weirdoughs opened its doors on a Friday morning, a queue of pastry-hungry customers had formed under its bright yellow awning.
The small bakery, located in a quiet residential neighborhood of Serangoon in Singapore, had fewer than 10 tables. But it was quickly packed with regulars buying coffees, sourdough bread, croissants, and brownies.
I sat in a corner and people-watched, savoring the smell of espresso and The Weirdoughs’ caramelized onion and leek pastry. It was the brainchild of cofounder Liu Yi Wen, a Taiwanese fine dining chef trained in French cuisine.
Liu and her business partner, Au Hui Har, opened The Weirdoughs in July. The pair met while working at a local pastry business and decided to pool their savings to pursue a shared dream of starting something of their own.
About five months on, business is booming, but baking close to a hundred loaves daily is not easy.
Leaving behind jobs in pharmaceuticals and fine dining
Liu studied materials science in college.
“Studying materials science, that was the trend then. So I followed the trend, but I realized after I joined the course that I was not interested in it at all,” Liu said.
After graduating, she cut her culinary teeth at several upscale restaurants in Singapore, Paris, and Taiwan, including the three-Michelin-starred restaurant Joël Robuchon.
She described work in fine dining as akin to being in the army.
“The hours were very long, 14 to 16 hours daily. It was very normal for us to stay over,” she said. “And there was a strict hierarchy.”
She returned to Singapore in 2022 to be with her partner, where she started working at Tarte by Cheryl Koh, a local pastry business.
Au’s pivot into baking, meanwhile, could not have been more drastic. She studied bioengineering in college and joined a management trainee program at the pharmaceutical company Novartis, completing rotations in Germany and Switzerland.
Like Liu, Au also realized her day job wasn’t what she wanted to do.
“Regulations in the industry take years to be implemented. I felt disconnected from the patients, and corporate life felt very tedious,” Au said.
When COVID-19 struck, Au returned to Singapore, seeking a job in the food and beverage industry. She joined Tarte, where she met Liu.
Liu had a vision of opening a warm and homely café, similar to those she frequented in Taiwan and France.
The duo pooled about 100,000 Singapore dollars, or about $77,300, from their savings to purchase kitchen equipment, including large ovens and industrial mixers.
Their bakery, The Weirdoughs, opened its doors in July.
A creative, fusion-heavy menu
Au and Liu brought their A-game to menu development.
“We wanted to incorporate Yi Wen’s Taiwanese influence and techniques into our menu,” Au said.
Their selection includes a tea egg sandwich, madeleines flavored with maqaw — a spice indigenous to Taiwan, and corn and miso sourdough.
I was about to order a plain butter croissant when Au asked me if I was in the mood for something more adventurous. She recommended the caramelized onion and leek pastry. It was the perfect combination of sweet and savory — I still dream of it.
I also tried their sourdough loaf with garam masala butter and a matcha cream-filled croissant.
Patrons in the bakery told me it had quickly become their neighborhood go-to.
I spoke to Foo Yong Howe, a public servant and a sourdough fan, who was sharing a sourdough loaf and cups of coffee with his brother. He said he visits the café often to have some quiet time to himself.
“If I had the time and my pocket could afford it, I would definitely come once a week,” Foo, 51, said. “Their sourdough is light and goes well with their homemade butters, and the space is really cozy.”
Long, tiring hours
Business is booming, but that means more prep and earlier hours for the duo.
Au starts baking their 26 varieties of pastries six hours before opening time, so that means getting in at 4 a.m. on most days. She wraps up baking the day’s pastries before doors open at 10 a.m.
“It’s definitely more tiring than I thought it would be,” Au said.
On weekends, when the shop opens earlier at 8 a.m., she wakes up at 1 a.m.
“The biggest trouble we have is that since the space is so small, we can’t really be turning on the oven when the shop is operating, otherwise it gets very hot,” she said.
They get about 80 to 100 customers a day, and earn sales between SG$1,500 and SG$2,000 daily. The duo pays themselves a monthly salary of SG$2,000.
To try to maintain some semblance of a work-life balance and have a social life outside the café, Au said she just sleeps less: three to five hours a day.
“I’m not someone who lives life with regrets,” she said. “I always just go with the flow; everything is a learning process.”
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