Grandfather Carrot Cake: Super wok hei carrot cake, CKT & fried oysters with pork lard at Siglap

I was eager to try Grandfather Carrot Cake since I heard that the stall uses pork lard at the customer’s behest. Ever since then, it’s remained on my bucket list, unticked due to its inconvenient location for a west-sider.

You can find Grandfather Carrot Cake in Soy Eu Tua coffeeshop along Upper East Coast Road. Funnily enough, for a stall that does things the old-fashioned way with pork lard, it only opened in 2018.

That would be because the owner, Mr Big Kodo (大四哥), is an established hawker in his own right, starting his F&B adventure at the age of 16. As a veteran of the trade, he’s had a hand in the opening of many up-and-coming businesses, a recent example being Fort Canning Big Prawn Noodle at Aljunied.

Sadly, the man himself was under the weather when I finally found the time to swing by. Not to worry, as we were assured the chef handling the wok was just as skilled. As it turns out, Ah Shiong (pictured above, right) is his cousin!

Being staunch supporters of the pork lard renaissance, we were upfront with our request. ‘Everything in pork lard, please,’ was the best I could manage in Mandarin.

What I tried at Grandfather Carrot Cake

It was a challenge having to hold ourselves back from stealing bites of the carrot cake as we waited. The fragrance straight out of the wok was simply something else. If you like it when the radish cakes are branded with the wok’s essence to achieve both a brown hue and nearly crisp surface, this is it.

Ah Shiong demonstrated that they let the radish cakes sit in the lard a tad longer. The almost crackly crust was savoury, a marvellous contrast against the soft radish.

On to the black carrot cake. While the darker bits carried a smokier profile, I was hooked on the sweet-savoury combination of the crispy charred eggs. Take heed with the chilli, as it’s house-made and quite spicy. Dipping a small amount was enough to cut through the carrot cake.

On to the black carrot cake. While the darker bits carried a smokier profile, I was hooked on the sweet-savoury combination of the crispy charred eggs. Take heed with the chilli, as it’s house-made and quite spicy. Dipping a small amount was enough to cut through the carrot cake.

Ah Shiong shared that their chye poh is given a momentary toss in the wok to bring out more wok hei. With the medley of textures and flavours, I’ll admit I couldn’t make out too much of their contribution apart from mildly sweet and salty crunches. It was a tremendous upside that we didn’t have to ration these for once.

Next up was the Fried Oyster ($8), served with a runnier sauce that Ah Shiong said is supposed to be more sour, as well as half a lime.

There was a good balance of eggs wrapped around the starchy, slightly chewier batter that makes up much of the body. Like the carrot cake, the entire dish radiates a distinct aroma. I preferred the stark contrast of textures here over that of the black carrot cake, as the batter just gave more chew.

Each piece of oyster fried within the thin slabs of starchy omelette was creamy with a hint of sweetness. Imbued with the vinegary sauce, the added depth and bite brings a lot to the table while lime gave it the punchier notes.

We continued our feast of stir-fried courses with Char Kway Teow ($6). Like the previous dishes, Grandfather Carrot Cake serves it with lime and their rendition of chilli sauce that has a gingery, garlicky taste on top of its spice.

Char kway teow has never been my go-to hawker dish because I’ve always preferred its much sweeter, foreign counterpart — pad thai. It fell on the dryer side, but this plate was in contention with carrot cake for the greasiest so far. The noodles borrowed a fair bit of the lard’s fragrance and to my delight, were sweeter than expected.

Though heavy with the wok’s essence, the small quantity of lap cheong was hard to excuse. I think we had one each (totalling 3) and that was about it. For such small slices, they were saccharine and almost cloying with the already slick noodles. As for the beansprouts scattered throughout, they were barely noticeable outside of the occasional crunch.

The Hokkien Prawn Mee ($6) was the last dish and was served with lala, prawns and fish cakes. Hopping from the robust flavours of the previous ones to the restrained noodles was like a roller coaster rolling to a stop after a series of hair-raising loops.

I’ve neglected mentioning the substantial amount of heavenly pork lard mixed in with each dish for the simple reason that they’re so much more prominent in Hokkien mee. It was an active competition to see who could harvest these fatty fragments for themselves.

Quelling the lingering char kway teow effect with some drinks, we finally started in earnest. 

The gravy was delicate and aromatic with an accent of umami. Bits of fried egg, fish cake slices and the noodle combination elevate the mellow savoury textures.

A squeeze of lime to zest it all up and we were given access to another dimension of flavour.

Not too much of a lala enjoyer, I left most of them to my dining buddies. They were cleaned well and came with a sliver of brine. If you like these, you’ll be happy with the quantity provided.

3 prawns came with the Hokkien mee, thoughtfully de-veined and de-shelled. They were firm, gracing us with a nice oceanic scent and soft meat once chewed. I would say they were slightly lacking in the mild sweetness that fresh prawns are known to have.

Final thoughts

It’s a pity pork lard has seen such a decline in usage over the years given how it amplifies both taste and smell. I’ll definitely return for the unfettered wok hei that’s been maintained at Grandfather Carrot Cake. We enjoyed every dish stir-fried by Ah Shiong, and I speculate the master himself might have even more polish to his skills.

Expected damage: $6 – $8.80 per pax

Hai Yan Fried Kway Teow Mee: Telok Blangah hawker sells runny eggs on top of wok hei char kway teow