Matcha and bakes for supper: Inside S’pore uni dorm rooms where students run small F&B ventures

SINGAPORE – Order forms go live, collection slots fill and pick-ups begin in corridors.

In the evenings or late at night, it is not unusual to see students gathering in Nanyang Technological University’s (NTU) halls – not for a tutorial discussion, but to collect food and beverages prepared by their peers.

Inside the dormitory rooms, study desks share space with equipment, ingredient boxes and packed order bags.

These dorm-based food and drinks providers do not describe what they are doing as “businesses”. They are aware they are operating in a grey area, as there are no publicly stated regulations addressing dorm-based food ventures on either NTU’s or the Singapore Food Agency’s (SFA) websites.

When contacted by The Straits Times, an NTU spokeperson said: “While we encourage our students to enjoy a vibrant hall campus life and admire their entrepreneurial spirit, university halls of residences are not equipped or licensed for commercial food preparation.

“As the health and safety of our residents is our priority, anyone selling food in Singapore must comply with prevailing food laws and regulations stipulated by SFA.”

SFA, in a separate statement, said it is looking into the matter with NTU.

“The home-based business scheme is meant for those who wish to run small-scale businesses, including food businesses, from their flats or private homes only. It does not include university dormitories,” it added.

“In general, food businesses are required to obtain a licence from SFA to supply food. Consumers are advised to buy food only from licensed food businesses.

“As food safety is a joint responsibility, consumers can also play their part in ensuring food safety by choosing the food they buy, handle, prepare and consume carefully.”

The undergraduate founders featured in this story said they are aware that operating from school dormitories is not explicitly addressed under current regulations, and that NTU and SFA may review the matter.

Most started their ventures out of a love for food and drinks, and to build something with friends.

They see it as a chance to test out ideas – an outlet for identity, creativity and community – while living the student life.

“It adds to hall culture,” says Mr Yen Ming Jun of dorm-based venture 1.1mol, which sells bakes and matcha drinks. “Students can experiment and do things they’re passionate about. It makes the campus more lively.”

Several NTU students say the trend has picked up since 2025.

Across campus, these dorm-based ventures have become a familiar part of hall life, sustained through word of mouth, peer support and channels on messaging platform Telegram.

Mr Yen says they are responding to the same pressures seen in the wider food industry.

“With rents so high and the cafe industry oversaturated, a lot of people have pivoted to home-based businesses,” he says. For students who stay in the halls, he adds, this translates to dorm-based projects.

The idea for 1.1mol came to Mr Yen Ming Jun, 22, during recess week in September 2025.

Two weeks later, the Year 1 business student had bought an ice machine and a fridge, tested recipes and sold his first matcha drink from his shared double room. The set-up occupies most of his study desk, which he uses to prepare drinks.

His roommate has been supportive, says Mr Yen – and sometimes gets free drinks in return.

“I’m impulsive. If I set my mind to something, I’ll just do it,” he says.

He began with drinks, including matcha with what he calls a local twist. There is the usual Strawberry Matcha Latte ($5), but also Wang Wang Milk topped with salted matcha foam ($5), inspired by the childhood drink many Singaporeans grew up with.

His bakes, introduced in February, have more local flavour.

Before bringing his home bakes into the hall, he tested them at a pop-up held at Hummies’ Delights, his friend’s cafe at Ngee Ann Polytechnic. The response, Mr Yen says, gave him confidence to introduce them to NTU.

Mr Yen’s bestseller is the Roti Boy butter cookie ($3.20), modelled after the coffee bun popular among Singaporeans who visit Johor Bahru, with a block of salted butter baked into the centre. Instead of completely replicating the bun, he reworked its coffee crust and molten-butter centre into a cookie.

He also sells Gourmet Banana Parfait ($5.80), his take on banana pudding. Custard is replaced with mascarpone cream and ladyfingers soaked in banana milk, topped with Chantilly cream and Biscoff crumbs.

“I want whatever I sell to embody local identity, but in a more refined, gourmet way,” he says.

His interest in food began at 20, when he started reading local food publication The Slow Press and Malay food initiative Sendok Rakyat, which documents heritage recipes and narratives.

Mr Yen is also drawn to creative studios Salt Salon and In A Pickle Supper Club, which blend design, storytelling and curated dining experiences.

“Local food culture is underrepresented in Singapore,” he says. “My goal is to create food that showcases our culture and that Singaporeans take pride in eating.”

Most of his baking takes place on Sundays in the 6 sq m kitchen of his family’s five-room HDB flat in Woodlands. He spends eight hours preparing dough and assembling parfaits before transporting them to campus for collection later in the week. The drinks are prepared in his dorm room closer to pick-up.

His bakes took the longest to refine. He spent weeks experimenting with recipes, testing different textures and proportions before releasing them.

“There was a lot of R&D. When you try something new, you have to devote time to it,” he says.

Orders are released midweek through an online form, with fixed collection time slots in the evenings from his room.

Demand is inconsistent. Some weeks, he sells around 55 bakes and 25 drinks in two days, while other weeks move more slowly.

“It’s tiring, but I learnt to manage my time after a while,” says Mr Yen, who spends a total of 20 hours a week on his side hustle.

Balancing schoolwork is the greater challenge. A full baking session can take up an entire day. Dough must chill before baking, batches are baked in intervals and clean-up follows. “During heavier academic weeks, I won’t push myself to bake too much.”

Mr Yen holds a Workforce Skills Qualifications (WSQ) Food Safety Course Level 1 Certification, which he obtained in April 2023.

According to the SFA, food handlers who attain this certification may engage in food handling activities for up to five years before renewal is required.

Ms Callista Gani, a 21-year-old Year 1 maritime studies student, is a fan of Mr Yen’s bakes. “You can tell they were curated and created carefully,” she says. Her favourite is the Roti Boy butter cookie.

“Encapsulating the Singapore theme and taste is something I appreciate. It shows his authenticity and love for his craft beyond just a side hustle,” she says.

Mr Yen declined to state his earnings, saying that it was never about money but experimentation.

After university, he hopes to organise curated food events that spotlight local ingredients through storytelling.

“1.1mol is a passion project for me. For now, it’s a stepping stone to bigger projects in the future,” he adds.

It was not designed as a drinks counter. But for Ms Ang Yu Han, the 22-year-old co-founder of Matcha-ryou, the narrow space works.

On the ledge sit tins of matcha powder, milk cartons and a modest $20 matcha set bought from Shopee.

“Even though it doesn’t froth as nicely as the traditional whisk, it still works. We make do,” Ms Ang says.

Ms Ang, a Year 2 materials science and engineering student, co-founded Matcha-ryou in her dorm room at NTU with two friends: Ms Jade Teo, 24, a Year 4 electrical and electronic engineering student; and Mr Brendan Tan, 23, a Year 2 materials science and engineering student.

Ms Ang traces the seeds of the idea back to October 2024, shortly after she returned from a trip to Japan with her matcha-enthusiast mother. She began making drinks for her hostel friends using matcha bought from Hokkaido.

“I like making matcha drinks for fun,” she says. “It’s my love language.”

She followed recipes from her previous part-time job as a cafe server, recreating drinks between classes. But the results varied and she noticed differences in bitterness, colour and aftertaste.

She began experimenting with higher-grade matcha powders. The better powders were more expensive – costing $60 to $80 for a 100g tin, enough for just 25 cups.

Friends suggested she start selling matcha drinks to defray expenses, but she hesitated.

“It takes a lot of work. There are already many matcha businesses around too,” she adds.

Mr Tan – her course mate and a coffee aficionado – then suggested they combine their interests. Ms Teo, a friend from Ms Ang’s previous hall who had sampled her earlier experiments, joined soon after.

Matcha-ryou started in October 2025.

Says Ms Ang: “Working as a trio gave me more confidence. We could make up for what each of us lacked.”

Mr Tan focuses on flavour development and drink preparation, and Ms Teo assists with operations and promotes Matcha-ryou through word of mouth, tapping into her network of friends across the halls. Ms Ang manages costs and sales records.

All three make drinks, but coordination largely runs through Ms Ang.

Mr Tan holds a WSQ Food Safety Course Level 1 Certification. Ms Ang’s certificate expired in 2025, while Ms Teo does not hold one. The trio practise basic food hygiene, including proper storage and handling of ingredients.

Orders are placed through online ordering platform TakeApp. Matcha-ryou typically operates three days a week, with time slots announced in advance.

Their menu focuses on matcha (from $5) and houjicha (from $4) milk-based drinks. Beyond the usual strawberry pairing, they offer blueberry and mango matcha, with fruit syrups for sweetness. Mr Tan says the idea was to stand out from other matcha sellers in Singapore, who tend to stick to more common flavours.

Besides flavoured syrups, they experiment with different grades of matcha, each with distinct flavour profiles – some floral, others savoury.

They have also introduced cold foam, a lightly whipped cream topping for iced drinks, after Ms Ang made it for a friend’s birthday and received rave reviews.

Margins are slim. Ms Ang estimates they make about $1 a cup, split three ways. Most of their earnings go back into ingredients and experimentation. Their profit for the first two months of 2026 was about $20.

“We’re not making money from this,” Ms Ang says. “It’s out of love for matcha.”

The trio continue because they enjoy the craft and what it brings to the people around them. A cup handed over in the evening becomes more than just a drink – it gives others a reason to drop by and chat for a while.

Even if profits are negligible, the memories made behind closed dorm doors have made it worthwhile, they say.

When asked about the future of Matcha-ryou, the founders say the venture will likely end by next semester, when Ms Teo graduates and the others leave for exchange programmes.

At 8am, before most lectures begin, Mr Low Dong Xuan, 23, is already pulling shots in his dorm room.

A grinder hums. Coffee beans are ground fresh for each cup. Every drink comes as a full double shot – “no skimping”, as his menu states.

The Year 1 maritime studies student runs 12 Cups Cafe from his room, offering Americano ($3.50 hot, $4.50 iced), latte ($4 hot, $5 iced, with oat milk available for an extra $0.50) and iced mocha ($5).

The beans are sourced from a rotating line-up of local speciality roasters, with a new edition introduced every three weeks.

His current sixth edition, introduced in February, uses beans from local cafe Zerah Coffee Roasters. Previous editions have featured other Singapore-based roasters, such as Nylon Coffee Roasters, Homeground Coffee Roasters and Parchmen & Co.

“I want to do this because I appreciate the local speciality coffee roasting scene,” he says.

His interest in coffee began during the Covid-19 pandemic, when home brews intrigued him with the complexity of their flavour profiles.

Before entering NTU, he worked in a speciality coffee roaster from January to April 2025, and in a bakery until August 2025.

Those experiences, he says, gave him confidence to run a coffee set-up.

“When I moved into the hall, I thought about what parts of my life I could bring with me,” Mr Low says. “Coffee is something I drink every day, so why not share it with others?”

The idea for 12 Cups Cafe began during his orientation week in August 2025. Conversations with new hall mates – many curious about coffee and unfamiliar with speciality beans – convinced him there was an opportunity to bridge that gap.

“Coffee is commonly known as a cheap commodity, but it can be deeper than that,” he says. “Speciality coffee can feel niche or inaccessible. This was a chance worth taking for me to make it affordable.”

Operating hours depend on his academic schedule. On average, he opens three days a week for two to three hours at a time, and sells about eight to 15 cups a week.

“It was chaotic at first. I wasn’t used to that volume,” says Mr Low, who does not hold a WSQ Food Safety Course Level 1 certification. He says he relies on his experience working in a cafe and follows standard hygiene practices when preparing drinks.

Orders are placed through Telegram and, more recently, a digital ordering platform he introduced to streamline operations.

While the grinder can be noisy, he schedules operating hours around his roommate’s timetable.

The drinks are simple: just milk, water and coffee. Says Mr Low: “I keep it straightforward. The focus is the beans.”

There are no syrups, extra sugar or other elaborate add-ons. By limiting the ingredients, each roaster’s flavour profile, whether nutty or fruity, comes through.

He describes 12 Cups Cafe as community-driven. For Mr Low, the appeal lies in serving coffee within his own hall and meeting people he might otherwise not cross paths with. “I want to add colour to my hall community,” he says.

As a teenager, he ran small hobby-based ventures, importing aquatic plants and ornamental shrimp to sell to fellow enthusiasts. At the speciality coffee shop and bakery where he previously worked, he learnt what it meant to take a craft seriously.

Running 12 Cups Cafe comes with financial constraints. Speciality beans, he notes, are often roasted in small batches and can cost around $30 for a 250g bag, depending on origin and roast – significantly more than mass-distributed blends.

After accounting for the beans, milk and equipment upkeep, Mr Low says margins are just enough to cover operational costs.

He is open to expanding 12 Cups Cafe, but not while he is still in university. For now, he prefers the scale and intimacy of operating within his own community.

“One of my dreams is to own a cafe eventually,” he says. “To have a larger space where it can be a creative outlet.”