"I’ve always felt that wine is often represented in a certain way that doesn’t really align with how people in the wine-producing world actually live and behave. I’ve visited quite a number of wine regions over the years, and I’ve never seen a winemaker harvest in a suit."

 

“People asked me, why aren’t you in a black suit and white shirt? That’s the sommelier uniform. My response was, you look like a hitman!” recounted Gerald Lu in a deadpan, matter-of-fact way. It’s such an unexpected remark that I was left in stitches. After all, I’m sitting opposite one of Singapore’s most decorated sommeliers, but who, at this moment, is wearing a simple black T-shirt and shorts, looking nothing like the stereotype of an austere wine professional.

We’re tucked into Praelum Wine Bistro run by Gerald, a cosy haven on Duxton Hill, nestled among historic shophouses. The atmosphere here feels deliberately casual —empty bottles of legendary labels fill the shelves, while there’s a wall of playful photos of Gerald’s team with renowned winemakers in candid, humorous poses. Our conversation is punctuated by the occasional snot and laughter. It’s a striking departure from the perception of exclusivity that seems to envelop fine wine all the time. And Gerald’s relaxed and unpretentious team is its perfect embodiment.

This laid-back charisma might fool you if you didn’t know better. Beneath Gerald’s breezy demeanour is a list of accolades that could easily fill an imposing resume: he became the youngest winner, at the time, of Singapore’s National Sommelier Competition at just 25, and today, he serves as the president of the Sommelier Association of Singapore. Yet, you’d never guess it from his relaxed smile and easy-going manner. He’s passionate about wine, yes, but decidedly unserious about himself. His lofty achievements are balanced by feet-on-the-ground realism.

When Praelum opened its doors in December 2011, founded by investment banker Elizabeth "Liz" Lin and Gerald himself, it quietly revolutionised Singapore’s wine culture. At that time, the best bottles were typically only found in high-end dining establishments—imagine places where stiff formality and black jackets reigned. Praelum changed the rules, introducing a radically accessible approach to wine appreciation, with no dress code, an engaging and down-to-earth sommelier team, and complete with an Enomatic wine dispenser that allowed guests to sample wines in smaller pours.

 

 

Our conversation with Gerald was peppered with anecdotes of rebellion and pragmatism. We talked about his winning of the National Sommelier Competition in a defiantly unconventional get up: a light grey suit, pink shirt, no socks, and brown loafers. We discussed what it means to be a thoughtful rebel and what led him to choose a path in wine when traditional Singaporean society seemed to push everyone toward conventionally desirable careers in finance, engineering or law.

His vision extends well beyond mere rebellion. He’s passionate about dismantling wine’s lingering elitism—democratising enjoyment by making it genuinely approachable for everyone. We’re also moved by his impassioned advocacy for junior sommeliers – arguing how restaurants should recognise the potential of their sommeliers, who, given proper support, could single-handedly transform dining experiences and drastically elevate revenue.

 

 

Gerald also delights in recounting wonderfully quirky pairing combinations, like a “magical” pairing of an Auslese Riesling with tom yum soup, or a Clare Valley Riesling alongside popiah (fresh Singaporean spring roll) from a hawker centre that left our mouths watering.

Gerald’s infectious enthusiasm has convinced us: wine needn’t be precious or inaccessible. It’s meant to be shared, enjoyed freely, and maybe even laughed about. And Gerald Lu, with his T-shirt, shorts, and wide-open smile, is exactly the kind of sommelier who can lead the way.

Here’s our conversation in full.

Follow Gerald Lu: Instagram | Linkedin

Follow Praelum Wine Bistro At Duxton: Instagram | Facebook | Official Website

"At the end of the day, it’s a very simple thing. It’s a farmer, working incredibly hard to produce a drink that’s enjoyable. We buy it, we enjoy it, we like it, we share it.

But somewhere along these simple steps, we’ve layered on so many opinions and egos that the experience becomes complicated. When it comes to wine, there shouldn’t be any of that."

[88B]: We’re curious as to what experiences or learnings in your life that helped developed in you this down-to-earth, can-do spirit that almost makes stories of serendipity feel overrated?

[Gerald]: Firstly, when I chose this industry, I knew it wasn’t the most conventional path—especially for a Singaporean going through an education system designed to prepare you for certain types of jobs with prestige or a particular pay grade. Most people aim for a few industries that pay more—it could be, you know, doctor, lawyer, finance, maybe tech.

All these conventional options were there. It was about getting a government job—those are the few paths that pay well and offer stability. Choosing them was very conventional, and I think, like most Singaporeans, my parents put me through a system where you’re expected to overachieve. So I [initially] tried to do that. But because I was in this system and chose something unconventional, the first thing I realised was that nothing would be handed to me.

I didn’t come from a family with the means to support my interest—at that time I can’t even call it passion, it was just interest. So I had to do everything on my own: make my own money, create my own inroads, and try to find opportunities. These were all self-driven. When you start doing these things, you knock on doors hoping people will give you handouts or free advice or help—but back then, there was none. Zero. Not a single restaurant—not even a few still-famous ones, hotels—wrote back to me.

I even walked up to places. I’d take the MRT to City Hall or Raffles Place, go up to them in the afternoon and ask, “Hey, do you have a job?” or “I want to find out more about what this industry is about. How was your career progression?” Nothing. So the first lesson I learned was: nothing gets handed to you. If you want something, you have to make the effort to figure it out. Only then, right, do opportunities—or windows—start to open up. And the next step is choosing whether to jump through that window or not.

 

 

After doing all that, I eventually met people who gave me some options—“Maybe you can do this, or that, go through this or that path.” But that took a while. After that, it was still all on me. You have to bang into a few walls to realise, “Okay, this doesn’t work. That works.” The more you put yourself out there, the faster your learning curve is. If you’re very cautious—and I’m not asking you to be reckless—but if you make calculated decisions, talk to as many people as possible to get advice, and eventually, when you have all this in your pocket, you need to make that decision.

"Now imagine combining both approaches: structured learning with accurate, focused information, and real-world immersion. That’s when you truly get propelled into the world of wine. You become fully immersed in it—and I think that’s the best way."

If you don’t make a decision and just keep harping on it, you’ll never get anywhere. So I think it’s important to remember two things. First: put yourself out there at the beginning—ask questions, don’t be afraid. Second: once you’ve gathered all this information, you need to have a decision-making point—a timeline. That was the first step that got me going in the industry.

Actually, my whole life I wanted to be a soldier. That was my dream since I was maybe 10 or 11 years old. I did everything I could, but it didn’t happen. I still love the army—I’m still a [SAF] ROVER (Singapore Armed Forces, Reservist on Voluntary Extended Reserve Service), in fact. I completed 10 years, and this is my 16th year as a serviceman. I still carry on serving the country if I can—that part of me is still there. But as a career, that was out.

So the second decision was: What do I do? I thought maybe I still want to do something for my nation, so I applied to Singapore Airlines—without really knowing what it was. I didn’t get through. Was that a blessing? I don’t know. But I didn’t get it. So I moved on.

Next, I needed to find a job. I went around asking who was hiring. I actually interviewed with a few quite well-known groups who still do wine. But the packages they offered—I wasn’t too keen. Then I found my old workplace was opening a new restaurant, and that’s how I started. I said, okay, I’ll take less money but I’ll do a job that nobody wanted—like Wine Captain, not even a sommelier.

 

Gerald found his first job in wines at the IndoChine Group of restaurants (Source: IndoChine Group)

 

At the same time, I made it a condition that I could study part-time. So I worked and studied at the same time. As a Singaporean, I still wanted to follow that traditional path—“I better get a degree.” So I did—a business degree—as a backup, to keep my options open. But I also knew I needed to pursue skill sets and experience.

"The first lesson I learned was: nothing gets handed to you. If you want something, you have to make the effort to figure it out. Only then, right, do opportunities—or windows—start to open up."

[88B]: To that end, how have you found the industry to have changed (for better or worse) over the past two decades?

[Gerald]: As I grew up in the industry, I realised there was a gap. People in the industry are generally nice—those who go into hospitality tend to have a certain vibe, right? Not always by choice, but there's a shared energy. Eventually, you find your own clique, and you realise that's just what people gravitate toward.

On the wine side of things, I noticed that in the past there were a lot of tight-knit groups and cliques. And I started to question—why? Why did these cliques form? And more importantly, why was no one thinking about the next generation?

There was this assumption that the process is organic—that there would always be new people interested in joining the industry. But the reality is that fewer and fewer people want to enter F&B or the service sector in Singapore, which is very apparent.

So those two things—the existence of cliques and the lack of thought about the next generation—led me to try and figure out why. I embarked on a journey to understand this. And I realised that no one was actively doing this work—no one was really addressing these questions.

When I joined the association, even just as a member, it gave me a clearer view. I got to interact with many sommeliers, including seniors from different backgrounds. I tried to understand—why is there this clique, and that other one? And when you start listening to the stories, you realised there was just some past tensions between groups.

So those two things—the presence of cliques and the lack of forward-thinking about future generations—really led me to start embarking on certain projects for the association.

"Actually, my whole life I wanted to be a soldier. That was my dream since I was maybe 10 or 11 years old. I did everything I could, but it didn’t happen. I still love the army— I’m still a [SAF Volunteer]... I still carry on serving the country if I can—that part of me is still there. But as a career, that was out."

[88B]: If you could go back to the start of your wine career and journey, would you do anything differently, or would it still be Wine For Dummies – where should someone start their journey as a sommelier today?

[Gerald]: If we had this amount of resources back then, of course Wine For Dummies would still be a fun book to read *Laughs*.

 

(Source: Foolish Careers Asia)

 

I’d definitely encourage people to first decide if they want to be serious about this. You need to ask yourself: do you want to pursue the sommelier career path, or are you aiming for something more in-depth—like becoming a professional educator or speaker?

The first step is to go through a structured learning program, like the Master of Wine or Master Sommelier path. That should be your foundation—something that forces you to invest time, resources, and money. It motivates you to achieve a clear goal, and the structure helps you track your progress. That’s step one.

 

Gerald amusing his friends at Scala Dei Winery in Spain with his antics.

 

Step two is the wild path—where you read everything you can. Read books by authors and guides who specialise in particular regions or countries. Then go visit those places. Immerse yourself in harvest work, meet the winemakers, meet the people. Just live there for a few weeks—two or three if possible. Eat and drink what they do. Don’t just go and eat at all the fine-dining restaurants, which [even the producers] themselves only go to once a year. Really immerse yourself in their daily life. That’s a much more real experience.

Now imagine combining both approaches: structured learning with accurate, focused information, and real-world immersion. That’s when you truly get propelled into the world of wine. You become fully immersed in it—and I think that’s the best way.

[88B]: You had a chance encounter with Tommy Lam, a pioneering wine educator in Asia, and who founded the Sommelier Association of Singapore which you today helm, who would pay for one of your wine exams and force you to attend it – and perhaps much to your own surprise, you ended up topping the class. 

You repeated this somewhat surprise win once again when you emerged the youngest winner of the National Sommelier Competition – in full light gray suit, pink shirt, grey tie, no socks, brown loafers unconventional glory! Yet this was not without some setbacks. 

Take us through your thoughts and emotions through the high points and low points of your career. Is there something you took away that has shaped your journey and how you’ve approached wines since?

[Gerald]: Number one, I was really thankful for how things unfolded. At the time, I thought, "Okay, I’ll take this exam this year, then next year I’ll hone what I’ve learned, apply it, and maybe the following year I’ll study again.” But no—they were pushing me to move quickly. “Take the next-level exam next year,” they said. And I was like, “I’m not ready for this. I’ve got nothing prepared.”

But Tommy said, “Just do it.” I told him I couldn’t—I didn’t even have the money. And he just said, “You can pay me back in instalments. I think you can do it. Just go for it.”

I think having someone believe in you—especially in this industry—means a lot. It’s a pretty lonely space. A sommelier is usually a one-person unit in a big restaurant. No one really understands what you do. So when someone comes along and says, “I think you’re on the right path, and you can do this,” it gives you a kind of validation. That really meant something to me. It gave me confidence. I just gave it my best—and I surprised myself with the results.

There was no benchmark. You couldn’t even preview the exams at the time. There weren’t people guiding you, or videos to watch like there are now. So that was one thing.

 

Gerald's second win at the National Sommelier Competition.

 

Then came the competition. I joined the first year and didn’t win. So I just watched what the winner did. He won because he nailed certain elements. It made sense—if I learned those things, applied them, I’d improve. It was simple: you learn, you apply, you do better. But first, you must want to do it. So once again, it comes down to a decision. You commit. You focus. You work hard. You study. You attend extra tastings. You show up.

There’s no way success just falls into your lap. You can’t say, “I’m committed,” and then let your actions say, “Let’s chill.” Doesn’t work like that.

Then there’s this part of me—I don’t know if it’s a generational thing—but I’ve always had a bit of a rebel in me. I’ve never liked people telling me, “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it,” or “Don’t rock the boat.” If there’s no solid reason for doing something a certain way, I’ll always ask, “Why not try something different?”

That’s partly why I didn’t join the army full-time. I didn’t like being boxed in. And that’s how the whole outfit thing happened. When people asked me, why aren’t you in a black suit and white shirt? That’s the sommelier uniform. My response was, “You look like a hitman.” So I took a chance and wore a light grey suit, pink shirt, grey tie, no socks, brown loafers. I figured, “Let’s just see what happens.” There was no formal rule saying you couldn’t dress like that.

"I think having someone believe in you—especially in this industry—means a lot. It’s a pretty lonely space. A sommelier is usually a one-person unit in a big restaurant. No one really understands what you do."
– Gerald, on the value of mentorship he received from renowned wine educator Tommy Lam.

So maybe I was the first to break that mould. And it got me thinking—why can’t a sommelier wear a t-shirt and berms and still serve wine? Singapore’s weather doesn’t make sense for full suits anyway. If I open a casual wine bar, should I really make my staff wear suits? It would look ridiculous.

So yes, there should be room to question the system. There should be space to push back. But you also need to understand what works and what doesn’t. If I’m at a formal event, I’ll wear a suit. If I’m the president of an association, and I show up to an event with other presidents, I’ll wear a jacket. That’s part of respecting the context.

But it’s always a balance—you ask yourself: How many feathers am I willing to ruffle? You take calculated risks. You weigh what you have to lose. And the key thing is, whatever you do—make sure you don’t jeopardise someone else.

If I want to wear something bold and I get disqualified, fair. I didn’t lose someone else’s investment. But if someone sponsors me, and I make a statement that costs us the competition, that’s irresponsible. If I open my own restaurant and decide to serve in a t-shirt, and people don’t come—it’s my fault. That’s on me.

But if I’m part of a team pitching for a business deal, and I deliberately choose not to wear a jacket because “I’m being me,” and we lose the deal, then I’m just being an asshole. There’s a difference between rebellion and recklessness. You have to be thoughtful, even when challenging the norm.

So yes, there’s room to rebel. And people should question things. But do it with responsibility and self-awareness. I think that’s really important.

[88B]: Not long thereafter you were promoted to Head Sommelier, and then what started out innocently as helping a friend launch a wine bar would eventually become an almost 15 year journey helming the institution that is Praelum Wine Bistro. You’ve said that initially you thought this was a bad idea, but decided to join up with your friend to launch Praelum. 

The wine industry seems to have become more formalised these days. Do you feel that the wine industry continues to see folks who still think this way or do you feel that you were part of a dying breed of gungho sommeliers who took life by the horns, willing to see what the plot was going to be?

What do you think of young sommeliers today?

[Gerald]: No, contrary to what you said, I don’t see it that way at all. I feel that the wine scene in Singapore has actually become much more open to embracing new ideas and ways of doing things.

Fifteen or sixteen years ago, when we started, Singapore was still in a phase where classics were king. I wasn’t confident about opening something like Praelum because it didn’t make sense to have a casual wine bar back then. People seemed to prefer fancy things—wine was seen as part of a higher echelon of lifestyle. Sommeliers were expected to wear suits. As I mentioned earlier, that was just the norm.

 

 

But now, I don’t feel that way at all. I think this current generation is far more open. They’re pursuing more individualistic expressions of themselves—saying, “This is who I am.” And at the same time, we’re all figuring out how to be ourselves while still finding a place within society.

Naturally, that means gravitating towards like-minded people. But in the wine industry back then, there weren’t many like-minded people yet. What we’re doing now is building that space—for those people to find each other. And I think we’re seeing the results of that effort.

 

 

These days, you don’t need to go to a big restaurant or hotel to enjoy wine. There are so many small wine bars now. Myself at Praelum, and then newer places like Convivial Champagne Bar, Wine RVLT, That Wine Place—and even smaller bars like Wildcard. We’re all doing something different, and it works. These places survive, they have followings, and that shows the scene is not only growing—it has potential.

 

 

I wouldn’t say the industry is fully matured yet, but it’s maturing. There’s still space for the big wine clubs—I call them “The Numbers,” *laughs*—and they serve a purpose. Some people want that kind of environment to enjoy a bottle or celebrate a moment. But now, there’s real diversity.

 

 

I don’t think we’re a dying breed. In fact, we’re cementing an identity that says: you can be a sommelier like this and still be successful. You can be a wine drinker like that and still truly enjoy the experience.

The fact that Praelum has been around for so many years proves that there’s an audience for it. Our walls can be adorned with glorious, expensive bottles from all over the world—but our cellar can also be stocked with humble wines from a farmer who can’t speak English and sells something for €15 or €20 that’s the best in his region. And we’ll still pour it proudly.

And I think now it’s for sommeliers to keep telling these stories in their own way. When you reach a certain level of maturity as a sommelier, you start standing for certain values.

To reinforce that point—at our last AGM, we had over 70 sommeliers attend in person, and more than 20 joined online. We forgot to include a dress code in the invitation—none of us in the executive committee even thought of it. But no one asked. And when they showed up—not a single person was in a suit.

These sommeliers came from all kinds of restaurants, all kinds of backgrounds. And they felt comfortable attending a sommelier event dressed casually. And we loved it. I even brought a suit just in case, but when I saw everyone, I just changed into a long-sleeve shirt and wore my berms anyway.

 

 

So yes, the scene has definitely evolved. And when sommeliers feel this way—comfortable, authentic—the way they tell stories to customers will also reflect that. And customers pick up on it. They’ll say, “Hey, this vibe is nice.”

I don’t think we’re heading toward some very formal, high-end environment. We’re maturing in a way that embraces all styles. You can have a Master Sommelier with 35 years of experience, working in a World’s 50 Best Restaurant, hanging out with a new sommelier who can’t even pronounce “Sauvignon Blanc” properly—and it’s totally fine. They can still hang out.

That’s what we’re working toward now: breaking down the barriers. And I think we’re seeing more positive results!

"It shouldn’t be like sportsmen, 'Ah, you’re 35 already, done with competitions – retire and become a coach, and then later open a nasi lemak stall.' Why should it stop there? There should be something meaningful at every stage of a sommelier’s life until they can’t walk anymore."
– Gerald, on his hope for programmes and opportunities for sommeliers of every background. 

[88B]: You’ve said that getting Praelum to where it is today was nothing short of a slow burn and it took much word of mouth, table by table, customer by customer – and that initially you couldn’t even just serve wine, you had to do everything. You once shared a metaphor that it’s like a role-playing game where you had to gain experience by killing low-level monsters a thousand times. And so along the way, you must have had some incredible moments helming Praelum all this while.

We’re curious as to whether Praelum turned out close enough to what you thought it was going to be?

Could you share with us a particularly memorable or heartfelt moment in your time helming Praelum?

[Gerald]: I think in the beginning, I had no clue what Praelum would become. I was very young, and all I knew was that it was a wine bar—we had to make it work. And to make it work, we needed to sell cool stuff at the most affordable price possible so that people would come. That was pretty much it. And whoever was working for me, I just wanted to make sure they were happy and that they could grow in their job. It was a simple mindset.

As we grew older, of course, there were growing pains. My shareholders have been great—they’re not from the F&B industry, but they’re extremely good at what they do in their own fields. Especially Liz—she pointed out things like, “You need to look at your numbers,” “You’ve got to track this,” “You’ve got to manage that.” And I’m still not the best at it, but at least I was forced to do it.

I realised that to make a dream come true, there’s still a very realistic part of it: you need to make money. So it was about finding that balance. That only really hit me around year four or five of Praelum’s opening—when I was in my early thirties. That’s when I thought, “Okay, you need to stop partying and start looking at this seriously. How do we actually do this properly?”

That was step one. And I started to realise what we had built, and what we had been championing. I began to see how all the cogs and nails fit into place to form a machine. Before that, I was just focused on individual parts—like, “I love this element, let’s show it off!” But later, I realised the whole machine needs to function. So:

1. How do I make money?
2. How do I grow and nurture talent?
3. How do I contribute to the industry?
4. How do I keep customers interested?

All of that started falling into place. That’s where the video game analogy came in—somewhere around year four or five. You level up by putting in the grind. You start to see how each piece contributes to something bigger.

Then in year seven or eight, we began developing more systems and processes to run things more efficiently. That was the next stage. Just before COVID, our team grew. We took on more full-timers and could finally do more.

 

 

COVID was a huge turning point for me. It showed me that a business can—and must—pivot. It taught me that we need to be resilient. I was very thankful for the government support at the time—they really helped SMEs like us stay in the game. As long as you work hard and keep evolving, you’ll be able to make it through.

That lesson really fortified what I already believed: you have to do it on your own. No one is going to hand it to you. So we kept going. When other businesses were cutting staff, I was thinking, “Let’s hire more.” But of course, we hired the right people—people who matched what we needed.

Now I know what I want, and that clarity allows me to give better direction to both the team at Praelum and the association. When you're decisive, you don’t realise it immediately, but you start becoming more efficient, and you can take on more.

That’s probably the biggest takeaway for me. Now, again, if we’re in this to drive the engine full speed all the way to the end, recklessly, we’ll crash. That’s not the point. The point is: don’t stop moving forward, but make sure your foundations, your floats, are strong.

[88B]: Anyone who’s followed Praelum would know that it’s probably the only place out there where some of the world’s finest winemakers are caught doing wacky poses with you and the team – it’s become the iconic shot that has to be done for anyone checking in at Praelum!

How did the idea come about? And given that these winemakers come from all around the world, how do you convince them to partake in these fun shots?

[Gerald]: So it’s not really about convincing the winemakers. It goes back to the same core idea—why we do what we do. I’ve always felt that wine is often misrepresented, or maybe more accurately, it’s represented in a certain way in Asia that doesn’t really align with how people in the wine-producing world actually live and behave.

I’ve visited quite a number of wine regions over the years, and I’ve never seen a winemaker harvest in a suit. Maybe in a jacket, sure, if they’re just walking around—but not a suit. And when they’re sitting at home drinking wine with their families, they’re not obsessing over having the glass be exactly this thin, this tall, made of this particular crystal.

 

As photographed with Krug Champagne's Olivier Krug.

 

Yes, of course, good glassware can enhance the wine—but if you’re just with family, you drink what you have. It’s casual. It’s warm. It’s real. And I think that part of the wine world isn’t portrayed accurately here. We've taken wine and unnecessarily elevated it into something else.

That’s actually why we opened Praelum—to tell this story. And to strengthen that story, we started taking these fun photos with winemakers and guests who visit. We just try to capture them outside of their formal element.

 

As photographed with Penfolds's Peter Gago and Steve Smith MW from Pyramid Valley Vineyards. 

 

That little moment of zaniness, when they let loose—it shows that these people are actually fun. They’re serious about their craft, but they also know that wine is a social lubricant, something that brings people together.

And I can tell you—so many of the winemakers I meet, the reason they put in so much effort, the reason they endure the hard work of being farmers, is because they want the wine they make to be drunk at a table where people are laughing, connecting, creating memories. Sure, some might enjoy the crystal glasses and fancy settings, and that’s okay too. But most of them just want to go down to basics.

So that’s where the photo tradition came from. It was very organic. It just started with me being a bit crazy with the winemakers, and I realised—a lot of them are like that too. They’re fun people.

But somehow, we’ve created this image that you have to show up in a suit, because that’s “polite.” And when you go visit these winemakers on their turf, you realise—they’re not like that at all.

"The sugar got eliminated by the sourness, the sheer acidity, and the spice of the tom yum. It didn’t feel sweet. But suddenly, all those apple, floral, jasmine, honeysuckle, and pear-like notes came rushing through... That’s when I totally understood why German Rieslings—with their residual sugar—go so well with sour or spicy [Asian] food."

[88B]: This tapestry of funny poses that you do with these winemakers – is there a takeaway in there that you’ve found about a universal human quality that is shared by everyone, no matter who they are and where they’re from?

Was there a particularly memorable exchange you had with one of these winemakers?

[Gerald]: Oh, a lot. One that really stuck with me was with Angelo Gaja, the famous winemaker from Piedmont, Italy. I met him once, and he said something to me in Italian. It sounded really cool, but I had no idea what it meant.

 

Angelo Gaja of The Gaja Winery from Piedmont, Italy. 

 

Then the translator told me:

"There will be times when the path you walk is dark, blurred, and unclear. But if no one lights the way for you, then light your own path and keep walking forward. Eventually, others behind you will see that light and walk toward it. And those who want to go in that direction will follow."

That really hit me. It was inspirational—one of the many reasons I love wine. I’m not saying I live for moments like that, but in this line of work, you meet personalities like him. Sometimes we fall in love with a wine or admire a winery’s reputation, but behind all of that is someone with a life story, someone who has gone through something real.

Another one was from Villa Antinori, another Italian producer. The winemaker told me: “A group of friends could drink ten bottles of my Villa Antinori and have the best night of their lives. Another guy could be drinking Solaia every day with every meal, but he does that alone. Therefore the Villa Antinori is still the happiest wine I’ve made.”

 

 

That really resonated with me. It’s the memory that counts. That’s what wine is about.

And these kinds of encounters—they give me so much conviction about what we do as sommeliers. We are here to bridge worlds—to bring people together through wine. That’s what I want to do. Whether it's at Praelum or elsewhere, when someone comes to see a sommelier—especially after a long, exhausting day, whether it's 8 hours or 16 hours—I want those next two to three hours to be the happiest and most relaxed part of their day. We want to bring that joy through wine—something that has a story behind it, and gives you a certain life force after your most difficult day.

So yes, those are the moments and words that have stayed with me. And I guess I’ve taken them, interpreted them in my own way, and now I try to deliver this to others.

[88B]: You’ve said that perceptions about what a sommelier ought to be are changing, even if slowly, and that unfortunately along the way there remains much criticism and flak for not conforming to norms. Praelum certainly walks the talk and is by far the most down to earth wine spot in the country, with folks dressed much more casually even as the team still takes its wines very seriously.

Tell us more about that. If you could snap your finger and make anything happen, what’s something you’d change about the wine trade in Singapore? And are there any myths about being a sommelier that you would like to debunk? What do you hope that being a sommelier would be like in the future?

[Gerald]: Well, if I could snap my fingers—this is a tough one, man. I would’ve snapped away many things! *Laughs* But if I had to choose one, I think it would be to remove the barrier to entry—that lingering association of wine with a much more elitist crowd. That’s the barrier I’d want to eliminate instantly. Because if that came down, it would open up so many more doors for people to see and understand what wine is really about.

It’s not about choosing one extreme or the other. You don’t have to go full-on one wing and say, “We only drink natural wine, everything’s organic, we’ve all got tattoos and beards, and we only do hugs, no handshakes.” And at the same time, you don’t have to be the guy in the $35,000 suit, opening bottles of wine that cost more than someone’s annual salary, insisting only on the finest.

Why must there be these two extreme worlds?

At the end of the day, it’s a very simple thing. It’s a farmer, working incredibly hard to produce a drink that’s enjoyable. We buy it, we enjoy it, we like it, we share it.

But somewhere along these simple steps, we’ve layered on so many opinions and egos that the experience becomes complicated. When it comes to wine, there shouldn’t be any of that.

"But if no one lights the way for you, then light your own path and keep walking forward. Eventually, others behind you will see that light and walk toward it. And those who want to go in that direction will follow."
– A particularly memorable advice shared by renowned winemaker Angelo Gaja (known as the "King of Barbaresco") with Gerald.

[88B]: You’ve once said that a sommelier who focuses too much on simply serving the best wine and thus forgoes the story behind the wine has lost the plot and is no different from a vending machine that dispenses wine. You on the other hand have sought to make wines more accessible to new drinkers.

Working off of that, what do you think the industry can do to support sommeliers? What do you think needs to change?

[Gerald]: I think number one, F&B entrepreneurs and bosses need to understand what a sommelier can actually do for them. This is someone who could potentially, single-handedly, double your revenue—more than what your whole kitchen and front-of-house team can make. You could have a 17-person kitchen brigade and a 12-person front-of-house team making all this food, serving it on a fixed menu. But this one guy, walking around the room, with a snap of his finger—he can bring in the same or even more revenue than all that combined.

If I need the resources to do this and I'm being ridiculed at work by other colleagues, then—that’s the first problem. People need to understand that when a sommelier is given the right environment to perform, he can grow. Naturally, he'll become very inclined to do his job well. There's healthy competition too—other people see that and go, "Oh, that's great." I think that's the natural journey. So why not invest in this guy?

You need to understand that someone with that kind of potential deserves investment. You must spend time, understand him, and let him do his thing. A lot of sommeliers are made to do multiple jobs—like setting tables. It's okay, we can help, it's definitely teamwork. But there's also another purpose for me being here. And if I'm not given the time and support to focus on that, then it’s wasted.

Once everyone improves and starts to see what the sommelier role is really about—then you build the foundation to inspire the next generation. Students will look at it and go, "Yeah, actually, there’s a real career path here. I can be a sommelier."

It’ll take some time. The industry has to be supportive. Right now, it's like—there are just a couple of places that are truly supportive, but they can only hire so many people. So you're already limited. Your talent pool of sommeliers is already small, yet they aren’t being nurtured properly. Imagine a situation where there are very few fishes. So when a fish spawns, you better prepare it right. The environment must be right.

The person who owns the fryers must know how to use it. If you don’t even want to use the fryers, then never mind lah, bro—put everything into the microwave. And microwaved fried fish? Please lah. You’ll never know how to cook the fish right. Or if you don’t have enough fryers and you let the fish spoil. Sorry, I like to use analogies like that, but it's important.

And I think that’s part of our job as an association too. We want to engage business owners and say, “Hey, this is what sommeliers can actually do for you.”

[88B]: As part of your journey through the wine trade, you’re seem to have a soft spot for making the voyage to visit New World wine regions, such as China where you then hosted a Praelum 爱中国 (Love China) event at the Bistro showcasing various Chinese wines. By extension of that, you’re known to be big on promoting more adventurousness when it comes to wines, encouraging wine drinkers to go beyond the safe shores of the Old World.

During your many travels, are there broad observations you’ve developed about the winemakers there who are trying to establish themselves and to some extent their region in a world that’s most comfortable with the trusty and familiar Old World wines?

[Gerald]: I don’t purposefully go out of my way to promote New World wine regions. For me, every region and country has its own story to tell. But realistically, there are two main reasons I explore them.

Number one, I find it exciting when I go to new places and they offer a completely different perspective on what wine should be. We’re moving into a generation of younger winemakers—millennials, Gen Z—who are trying to express their individuality through their craft. And I respect that.

Sometimes, you come across a winery, or even a whole region, where everyone shares a certain vibe. When that happens, it makes a strong case that you should advocace for them.

For example, one of the places I’ve gone to often in the last six or seven years is South Africa. For the longest time, I knew nothing about South African wine. It's hard for them to get visibility here in Singapore—it’s far and expensive. So we don’t see much of them. What you typically find online or in stores are the mass-market wines.

 

 

But when I actually went there, on the ground, I realised there’s a completely different group of people—people who are passionate and excited about what they do. They want to grow something meaningful. They don’t necessarily have the financial means, but they have the heart, and they try.

And when you see that, you just want to be their loudhailer, in whatever small way you can. Of course, the product has to be good—there has to be substance. But when all of that aligns, that’s why I do what I do.

So I think it’s a collective effort. There are other regions I’ve visited where you find passionate individuals, but collectively, there’s a lack of leadership or cohesion—which is a shame.

Take China, for example. The reason you saw me doing the Praelum 爱中国 event is because I feel the Chinese winemakers—especially in certain regions—are quite united. They want to push their wines. Yes, they do have some financial firepower, but more importantly, they believe in what they’re doing.

 

 

It’s a new generation of Chinese winemakers. Some of them are very aware of their limitations, but they love their country, and they want to show that China can produce great wines. So look past the xenophobia or preconceived notions—because they’re doing something good. They just don’t always know how to get their message out in another language. They don’t use the same social media platforms we do, so it's hard for them to reach a global audience. That’s where we come in, right? Whatever we can do, we try.

Now, the Old World is currently in a transition phase. You’ve got the new generation wanting to innovate, and some from the older generation who prefer to stick to tradition. It’s a challenge.

When I see what some of these winemakers are trying to do, I think, "Okay, let’s see what I can do in my own small way." Everyone starts somewhere. But if you want to do something collectively, we’ll try to help you shout a little louder. We do our best.

 

 

Same theory, bro—if you want to do something, you have to fight for it. And these guys, they fight. When we make the effort to visit, they make the effort to host. They say, "Let us show you. Let us spend time with you."

Compare that to places where people are like, "Okay, I have 30 minutes for you," and you can feel the vibe—like they don’t really want your business. You think, "Yeah, you make great wine, but... I guess we’re lucky to be here?" But it shouldn’t be like that. It should be mutual. We’re happy to be there, to learn about their wine. And they should want to understand our market too, and perhaps ask how their products could do better in our market.

"You don’t have to go full-on one wing and say, 'We only drink natural wine, everything’s organic, we’ve all got tattoos and beards, and we only do hugs, no handshakes.' And at the same time, you don’t have to be the guy in the $35,000 suit, opening bottles of wine that cost more than someone’s annual salary, insisting only on the finest.

Why must there be these two extreme worlds?"

[88B]: As someone who has been in the wine trade for close to 20 years and is heavily involved in many key roles in the wine scene, and who interacts with winemakers and wine lovers on the daily, what is a wine trend that you think we should be paying closer attention to?

Could you also share with sommeliers one tip to instantly improve their wine journey or experience as a sommelier?

[Gerald]: I think the trend we really need to pay attention to is collaboration.

You can’t just be the so-called “big boy” in the market anymore and expect everyone to bow down to you. That mindset—“I’m going to dictate the market”—doesn’t work today. Nobody wants that. The market now is highly fragmented, broken into very specific niches. And if you try to spread yourself thin across all of them, you end up not being focused.

The smarter approach is to recognise and work with KOLs—key opinion leaders—or respected subject matter experts in different areas. Find ways to collaborate with them.

So for young sommeliers, for example: if you’re studying French wine, find someone working in a French-focused venue who’s really strong in that area—connect with them. If you want to learn more about coffee or tea, talk to a barista or a tea specialist. Ask them if they can spare some time to educate you.

Make friends from all walks of life. Don’t just stay in your sommelier bubble. Hang out with bartenders, baristas—why not? The world of wine and beverages is evolving. And we all need to be more open to collective growth.

Even for distributors—why only do your own private distribution or tasting events? Why not come together once a year with other distributors who share a similar portfolio? Do something bigger, and showcase what you’re all good at together.

These are the kinds of ideas we need to think about. People don’t want to share the pie, but they don’t realise their own pie is getting smaller and smaller. So would you rather have a larger slice of a shared, growing pie, or hang on to a whole pie that’s tiny—just so you can say it's yours?

You have to look beyond that kind of thinking. This shift towards collaboration is crucial—for sommeliers looking to grow and as a global trend in the wine world.

[88B]: And then on the other side of the glass, please drop a tip for wine lovers to immediately enhance their wine drinking experience. And combining the two, could you give us one question that you think wine lovers should really ask their sommeliers more?

[Gerald]: Oh, I think firstly, wine drinkers shouldn’t be afraid—they should never feel intimidated. Don’t overthink your questions or try to filter them. Just ask, even if it sounds silly. Like, “Why is this so smooth sia?” or whatever expression you want to use—just ask what’s on your mind. I'm sure most people know how to frame a question politely. So go ahead and ask anything. That’s the first thing: don’t be intimidated.

Secondly, if you enjoy wine and want to understand it better, take a wine course. If that feels like too much, then here’s another option—travel to a wine region. Especially in Singapore, many wine drinkers have the means and disposable income for short trips. So why not make one of those trips more meaningful?

 

Vineyards of Hatten Wines in Bali.

 

Bali has wine. Thailand has wine. Singaporeans are flying to these places every other weekend anyway. So instead of just partying, take a few days—like three days in Khao Yai, or head all the way up north in Bali, six hours from the usual tourist spots. Stay in a vineyard, ask questions. Why not? Say things like, “Can I try this? How do you make that?” Maybe even pluck some grapes, I don’t know. It’ll shift your perspective a bit and make you appreciate the process. You’ll begin to understand what really goes into making that glass of wine.

So my advice is: be open-minded, take calculated risks, and try to see a bit of what we see.

As for questions to ask your sommelier—ask anything. What’s exciting you right now? Don’t be afraid to take their recommendation and just try it. But before that, be honest about your preferences. Give them your parameters—what you like, what mood you're in, what kind of meal you're having. Don’t be afraid of breaking traditional wine-and-food pairing rules. Like, someone might say, “You’re eating seafood, you shouldn’t drink red wine.” Why not? Ask the sommelier, “Is there a red I can drink with this?” There might be something that works—lighter reds, chillable reds, things that won’t overpower the dish.

 

 

And finally, don’t be shy to ask, “Is there a story behind this wine?” or “What’s special about this bottle?” That’s where the magic is. Push the sommelier a bit—make them work harder. You might end up discovering something truly memorable.

"F&B bosses need to understand what a sommelier can actually do for them. This is someone who could potentially, single-handedly, double your revenue... A lot of sommeliers are made to do multiple jobs... But there's also another purpose for me being here. And if I'm not given the time and support to focus on that, then it’s wasted." 

[88B]: You describe yourself (on your Instagram bio) as “Enchanter. Confidence Artist. Aspirant.” Tell us what that means and why that resonates with you?

And then on the other hand, you’ve also once said that you’d love to be Pinot Noir, but you believe that in truth you are Kyoho. Tell us about that too.

[Gerald]: Wow, this is diving deep into my socials—I’ve got to be careful now, people are observing what I say! Laughs

 

So, that Instagram bio—yeah, it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek. “Enchanter” because I really enjoy telling stories and immersing people in the world I live in, even just for a moment. I’m not asking you to deep dive with me, but hey, let’s tread water together—see how it feels. That’s the goal: to bring someone into this world and maybe mesmerize them a little. Let them see what I see through my lens.

Then there’s “Confidence Artist”, which is a play on words—because a confidence artist is actually a con artist, right? *Laughs*. As sommeliers, we’re sometimes seen as selling fermented grape juice at ridiculous prices. So how do we inspire someone to confidently buy, say, a $30,000 bottle of wine? Well, that’s part of the craft.

Sometimes, the occasion calls for it. A guest wants to impress their client, so my job is to inspire confidence in that moment—to convince the other person that this is the best damn thing they’re drinking in their life. So it’s a bit of fun, but also a nod to what we do.

The last one, “Aspirant”, is about always chasing something more. To put it lightly, I aspire to be a good sommelier. I’m always trying to improve, to do better, to find new ways to grow. And that pretty much sums up who I am. I believe in telling stories, in sharing the why behind what we do. But I also know we have a job to do—to make people happy.

Now, on to the Pinot Noir vs. Kyoho grape thing. I’d love to be Pinot Noir—because Pinot is elegant, complex, layered. It has so many facets and expressions, right? It’s cool, refined, and doesn’t shout. I’d love to be that.

But in reality, I think I’m more like a Kyoho grape—those big, juicy Japanese table grapes. Easy to eat, sweet, enjoyable. People like them. Even the candies made from them are tasty. So maybe I’m just easy to hang out with, easy to get along with.

 

Gerald at a Halloween event. Don't worry – this isn't his usual get up.

 

I’m not as cool or complex as I like to think I am—so that’s why I say I’m a Kyoho grape and not Pinot Noir. It’s a bit of a self-deprecating joke, lah. I don’t take myself too seriously.

"I feel the Chinese winemakers—especially in certain regions—are quite united... It’s a new generation of Chinese winemakers. Some of them are very aware of their limitations, but they love their country, and they want to show that China can produce great wines. So look past the xenophobia or preconceived notions—because they’re doing something good."

[88B]: In 2019, you were appointed the President of the Sommelier Association of Singapore (SAS), the very organisation started by your mentor Tommy Lam, and an institution that you’ve said you wish had existed at the start of your career. Tying that in with your work at Praelum where you’ve made sure to provide a home for aspiring sommeliers, it’s clear that nurturing people in the wine trade is something you’re very passionate about.

What do you feel personally when you see emerging sommeliers step up and take on these accreditations and find their place in the wine trade? To that end, what is the legacy you hope to create with the SAS and at Praelum? How would you know that you’ve succeeded at that?

[Gerald]: Definitely one of the keystones we stand by at the Association is continued education. And with continued education, there needs to be a way to measure progress—some way for people to know they’ve achieved a certain level. That’s where certifications or accolades come in. Those things matter. Especially for young sommeliers, that’s usually where the journey starts. You want to see how far you can go, how good you can be. These milestones give you affirmation and confidence to push to the next step.

Then, at a certain point in life, you start to realise—eh, there’s more to this than just competitions and trophies. You begin to think about legacy, and how you can build something lasting. So there must be systems and activities in place that help sommeliers plan for that next chapter too. I think these are two of the basic pillars the Association should uphold: early-stage development and long-term planning.

As for how I feel—when I see young sommeliers with the drive, determination, and perseverance to push through challenges, I feel incredibly proud. Like when someone enters the competition in their first year and gets knocked out at the semis... but the next year, they come back stronger and make it to the finals. And then the year after, they place second. Then finally, in their fourth year—they win. I'm very proud of them because they have demonstrated pedigree. But for me, the bigger question is: how do I help take that pedigree and bring them to the next level?

 

Vanessa of Praelum's team recently won the third prize at the Asian edition of the Best Young Sommelier Competition by Châteaux & Domaines Castel. Gerald takes a particularly active role nurturing young talent in the sommeliers community. 

 

So we’ve started putting systems in place. For example, if you win the national sommelier competition, you don’t just walk off with the title. You come back as part of the organising committee for the next two years. Maybe you’re vice-chairman one year, then chairman the next. You get involved in shaping the next edition of the competition. Through that, you see which of these sommeliers truly have the heart to grow the community.

What I really hope is that, one day, when I’m no longer President—just a regular member—the next generation will understand how important these things are. And they’ll carry on building it, putting more systems in place so that there will be more opportunities for younger sommeliers, and there’s something for everyone at a different stage of their lives as a sommelier.

It shouldn’t be like sportsmen, “Ah, you’re 35 already, done with competitions – retire and become a coach, and then later open a nasi lemak stall.” Why should it stop there? There should be something meaningful at every stage of a sommelier’s life until they can’t walk anymore.

How far can we go? Honestly, I don’t know. I can see it, but the road ahead is dark. No one’s really told me what happens after 40—what should a sommelier do next? Maybe in 10 years, someone will ask me again, "Bro, now you’re 50. What’s next?" I don't know—maybe we’ll find out what sommeliers can still do at 60.

So yes, I feel uncertain about the distant future. But I also have clarity about what needs to be done now. I know what we need to lay down today—the basic building blocks. And I’ve visualised the direction. Whether or not I reach the destination, at least I know we’ve started paving the road.

"So it took ten months of development and surveys. It was super long. We did it slowly. Considering that sommeliers come to Praelum every week—that’s what, 40-odd weeks? We kept waiting for them to send new batches of glassware."

[88B]: And of course we must mention that most recently under your watch, the SAS has worked with local glassware company SKLO to produce a set of specially produced wine glasses – the award winning SKLO Evolution 50 and 125 – that’s made by Czech glassmakers Května.

In a world where there’s a whole lot of wine glasses, how did you find a way to make these incredibly gorgeous and versatile glasses stand out? Could you take us through the creative process in which you had worked with SKLO to produce the Evolution 50 and 125?

[Gerald]: Yeah, absolutely. So, it was born out of a selfish need to have a tasting glass. I thought there was a gap in the market. There's no tasting glass. You see professionals like to use tasting glasses. If you look at some MWs, like Ying Hsien, right? He always brings his own tasting glass because he feels that’s the glass. He uses Kimura, which I think is the top tasting glass. If I could make Kimura glasses, I would. But it's too expensive, inaccessible, and breaks easily. So not viable.

 

Lee Ming (founder of SKLO) and Gerald.

 

So I asked, how can we make this more viable? I just wondered, how come nobody makes one? But I kind of knew the answer. It's just not commercially viable for any producer to make glasses just for tasting.

But of course, being a partner of SKLO—Lee Ming is a good friend—and understanding how SKLO works with Května, and what Května’s business is, which is blowing all kinds of glassware... They advise you on the art of glassblowing and the engineering behind it. So I kept pushing Lee Ming: “Bro, make a tasting glass.” We kept joking, and he was like, “If you design it, I’ll make it.”

After a while I thought, how difficult could it be? Again, I realized nobody's going to give you anything—you have to do it yourself. So, okay, let’s figure it out.

I Frankensteined the thing by looking at existing designs. Literally. I liked this part of one glass, that part of another. Why? So I started to be more focused. I began researching glassware—what each design does, why a certain maker shaped it that way. He must have felt there was something to it and wanted to improve on it. And I realized there were some unique elements. So I had a hypothesis—I just had to prove it in my own way.

It was months and months of trying to draw it out, figure it out, measure this and that. Then we got Května to blow it. They sent a sample, we gave feedback, and they’d send another. That process happened six times. I still have all the samples in the cupboard over there.

Before we landed on this final iteration, I thought: this is the best. We then put it alongside some top samples we had—blind tasting—and it stood up very well.

 

 

We tested it against other universal glasses to see if it was truly at that level.
Look, if other tasting glasses are the same size, we would surely win. It’s just a really good universal glass.

That’s when I realized: okay, we can hold our own. It’s consistently top three. It performs really well. So we were convinced: this is a good glass—let’s make it.

When we made it, I told Lee Ming, “Just make some, bro. Let’s try. Do 100 pieces or whatever.” Because I also wanted to see how durable it was. It really was quite durable. So I said, “Okay, let’s make a bit more.”

Then he said, “I’m not going to make a lot. Minimum order is like 500, 700 pieces or something.” I said, “Okay, I’ll just make it. If nobody buys it, I’ll buy all of it. We’ll just use it at Praelum.” It’s a Praelum design.

But Lee Ming started soft launching it at other events he did, and he kept coming back to tell me, “This is very good.” So hopefully, if he gets enough orders, it becomes viable.

 

 

And I think he made a smart decision. He said, “Gerald, we’re going to send this to the Red Dot Design Award.” Which it won this year.

Later on, he told me, “Gerald, I want your blessing. I’m going to make a bigger version. I spoke to Května, and they said they could replicate the design but bigger, keeping the same proportions.” And that’s how the larger SKLO 125 glass was born.

We involved as many sommeliers as we could in developing the glass. We surveyed them. I’d give them different designs and ask for feedback.

So I’d be like, “Okay, you have five minutes. Here are eight glasses. I’ve poured the same Barolo in all of them. Tell me which one smells the best.”
And they’d go, “Oh, these two are the best, actually.”

Then I’d say, “Now taste them. Which one tastes best to you? This one has more acid? This one feels more alcoholic?” “Okay. Thank you. Bye-bye.”
Next guy comes in. Same process.

The next day, another sommelier comes. I’d say, “Hey, can you smell Torrontés for me? I want to see how an aromatic varietal shows.”
Everybody had a different task.

Some sommeliers came in and I’d go, “Hey, can you lift the glasses? Which one feels best in the hand?”

So it took ten months of development and surveys. It was super long. We did it slowly. Considering that sommeliers come to Praelum every week—that’s what, 40-odd weeks? We kept waiting for them to send new batches of glassware.

These are all unnecessary things in life. But to me, it's one of those legacy planning things. We want the Association to have something they’re proud of. Hey, this is the SAS. glass. Designed by Singapore sommeliers. Sure, Gerald led the project. But at the end of the day, a dollar from every glass goes to the SAS.

 

 

As long as I’m President—during this tenure— SKLO would donate a dollar to the SAS. for every glass sold. To me, the sommeliers may not feel like they did hard work, but I think it’s important that they’re recognised.

We’re lucky we won the award—it helped solidify our position. Now we have something to be proud of—not just as the Sommeliers Association of Singapore, but as a wine community.

The next step? Lee Ming wants to bring this overseas now that we’ve got this recognition. See how it stands up against industry giants. Singapore is small, but why can’t we be a bigger part of that?

So there is a bit of ambition behind it, although it really was born out of a selfish reason that we wanted our own tasting glass at Praelum.

"I think the trend we really need to pay attention to is collaboration... People don’t want to share the pie, but they don’t realise their own pie is getting smaller and smaller. So would you rather have a larger slice of a shared, growing pie, or hang on to a whole pie that’s tiny—just so you can say it's yours?"

[88B]: Could you share with us what’s been the best piece of advice that you’ve received?

[Gerald]: I think the best advice I’ve ever received was from Angelo Gaja—the one I mentioned earlier. It was a very visionary kind of advice. Very emotive.

For me, I’m the kind of person where it starts with believing in myself first. Then I can go out there and do things that people might, hopefully, believe in as well. I think that’s very important—it sets a direction for a dream.

It was about 13 or 14 years ago, when I was just starting out at Praelum.

He knew that in Singapore, it was only fine dining restaurants and hotels that had good wines. I think he saw what we were trying to do here, and he acknowledged how difficult our task was.

That’s when he held my face and said that piece of advice, like a true Italian godfather, that I should be the light and walk a path that allows others to follow.

It doesn’t give you any practical help, but it gives you motivation. And when you study Angelo Gaja’s life story, you understand why he said something like that.

[88B]: Now we know you’re a big fan of Riesling (specifically well-aged ones), which you’ve said is a godsend for food pairing with Asian cuisine – what is the craziest Asian food pairing with Riesling that works!

[Gerald]: The best one was from the beginning of my career—the one I still remember. It was a Dr. Loosen Auslese Riesling that we paired with a clear tom yum soup laden with seafood—whole prawns, scallops, and mussels—at my old workplace.

 

 

They were wondering, what wine could possibly pair with tom yum soup? I suggested an Auslese. And it was magical.

The sugar got eliminated by the sourness, the sheer acidity, and the spice of the tom yum. It didn’t feel sweet. But suddenly, all those apple, floral, jasmine, honeysuckle, and pear-like notes came rushing through—together with the lemongrass and lime leaf flavours from the soup. You had this beautiful flower-and-herb garden in your mouth, just bursting through. It was very nice.

The flavour performance was amazing. Plus, the temperature contrast—the soup was hot, and the wine was cold, at around six to eight degrees Celsius—it just made a beautiful combo in your mouth.

It toned down the heat, right? And the natural residual sugar formed a layer that softened the extra spice as well. It was beautiful. And then the acidity in the wine helped with the seafood.

So yeah, it was really the most striking pairing I’ve ever done. That’s when I totally understood why German Rieslings—with their residual sugar—go so well with sour or spicy food.

Other than that, I’ve had so many great Rieslings from Australia and Alsace that paired beautifully with local food.

 

 

I remember one—there was a Mitchell Riesling from Clare Valley, Australia, that went so well with popiah from East Coast Lagoon Food Centre.

The Riesling was full of lime character—lime and orange peel notes—that just zipped through the popiah, which had turnip that made it a bit vegetally, and a bit of chilli, which added this beautiful lime-zest bite to the turnip.

The texture was perfect. It captured the texture of the popiah skin, with the peanut and egg inside. Then there was a bit of creaminess, and the wine just slid through it all, cleaning up your palate.

It all came together very nicely. You got this whole vegetable-peanut flavour—the fresh green taugeh (beansprouts) came through—and then this fresh lime and floral tea quality from the wine just flowed with it.
It slid through. That was really nice.

Yeah, so I thought that was another very memorable Riesling pairing.

And it’s always been good—you know, you bring Alsatian Riesling to a heavier seafood dinner, right? Lots of garlic, lots of soy sauce–based stuff. Then the oak in the Alsatian Riesling, with its saffron and ginger flavour, just matches beautifully with that kind of seafood.

I feel like, for Singaporean food, Riesling is the one with the most successful pairings. I think it’s because we eat a multitude of different things at once, so you need something that can match that range.

And if you look carefully at what we traditionally drink at hawker centres—the best drinks are sweet sugarcane juice with a squeeze of lemon.

 

 

It’s a greenish, aromatic drink, and the lemon gives it that sweet-and-sour vibe, right? Dry Riesling is the only thing that mirrors that combination of textures and flavours, with those floral, herbaceous tones.

There’s also an emotional and nostalgic connection. Food and drink are all about that. That’s why you can eat something and totally not understand why someone else loves it—but to them, that’s nostalgia.

And for us, the best pairings bring to mind the classics. So to me, Riesling satisfies all of that.

[88B]: This has been an amazingly entertaining and insightful chat, Gerald. Thank you for your time!

At 4 Duxton Hill, Singapore, Praelum Wine Bistro Restaurant is headed by Gerald and offers a curated selection of wines that blend both classic and unconventional choices – with renowned labels from regions such as Burgundy, Bordeaux, Champagne, the Rhône Valley, and from Austria and Germany. Praelum also has a dining menu of French-inspired European cuisine. Make your reservations here.

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@CharsiuCharlie