1. Do market research. A.k.a. reminisce about the cool restaurant scene during your college days in New York/Sydney/Melbourne.
2. Come up with a budget. Or just ask your dad for money instead. It’s not like you need to make this a viable business.
3. Pick a location. You want to do something different: a crumbling shophouse in Little India, a hidden heartland estate. But let’s face it, you’re going to end up paying through the nose for a spot on Duxton Hill.
4. Nothing left on Duxton? Find a sleepy kopitiam, turn it into the latest hipster hangout and become a poster child for the next generation of hawkers. Also, ruin the neighborhood for everyone who lives there by pushing rents through the roof.
5. Pick a high-concept cuisine. Preferably one as far removed from your experience as possible. Korean chicken. Peruvian-Japanese. Southern American. Maybe gourmet Antarctic with truffle fries?
6. Hire a chef. If you have money, poach one from a fancy restaurant. If you don’t, hire a recent CIA grad and say you’re supporting local talent.
7. Decide on a decor scheme. Be your most authentic self, but be sure to have the following: hanging Edison lamps, open kitchen, corrugated metal, some graffiti (so long as it’s on message) and lots of exposed beams.
8. Do your cocktail menu. Ideally 318 variations on the Negroni. Charge a 400% markup and budget 45 minutes to make each one.
9. Choose a name. Something that reeks of the 1920s. Something & Something Else. Or an animal. The Black Dandy Rabbit & White Spiffy Pony & Swan Co (SIN).
10. Buy a website domain. Then ignore it and just use Facebook.
11. Start getting the news out. Tell the local media so they can blog a succession of opening dates, all of which are wrong.
12. Start losing money hand over fist. Scrap the whole thing and relaunch selling burgers.
This is satire, not news. Relax.