COMMENTARY, Jan 30 — It’s that time of year again.

Time for mandarin oranges and love letters. Pineapple tarts and peanut cookies. Time for bak kwa, those caramelised slices of dried meat that are impossible to stop snacking on once you start. And it’s time for the long queues at the famous shops to get our bak kwa haul.

Some of the queues can get quite ridiculous. My friends in Singapore tell me about one shop along Changi Road that is renowned for their pineapple bak kwa.

The shop, Kim Peng Hiang, makes a savoury slice redolent of charcoal smoke and livened up by chunks of sweet pineapple. But a three-hour wait to get to the front of the line?

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Why on earth would we, or anyone, queue for hours, even if it’s for pineapple bak kwa?

It’s not only bak kwa during the lead-up to Chinese New Year, of course. Any time is a good time for queueing, whether for a firm favourite elevated to revered status to a new kid on the block that’s a must-try before the fad passes.

Take Taiwan’s popular boba milk drink Tiger Sugar for instance. The queues were (and possibly still are) formidable when its first outlet opened at Sunway Pyramid earlier this month. The beverage looks as though it’s designed to be Instagram-worthy, with specialty brown sugar syrup oozing stripes into creamy Meiji milk, a Japanese brand.

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Everyone’s already in line so why not join the queue?
Everyone’s already in line so why not join the queue?

Just last week, our northern neighbour was introduced to the splendours of Taco Bell, the “Mexican-inspired” chain founded in California.

How did folks in Bangkok respond to Thailand’s first ever Taco Bell outlet? The first in line had been queueing since the previous night; others joined the wait taking selfies in front of the shop with some rocking hats shaped like — what else? — tacos.

Slices of already sweet dried pork studded with even sweeter pineapple chunks, sure. The boba milk tea phenomenon comes and goes with every decade, it seems, the only constant the chewy tapioca balls and pervasive sense that, this time, we’re getting something really new and exciting.

But fast food is just fast food, unless it’s a famous fast food brand that we haven’t had access to... yet.

Is it a sense of novelty? There is definitely that, which is why F&B businesses whose products don’t pass muster beyond the initial food fad phase tend to fade away.

Maybe it’s a competitive drive innate in many of us, whether we admit it or not. The American exchange student who beat the rest to the line at Bangkok’s first Taco Bell had remarked he was happy to be the first. There is a certain satisfaction from such an accomplishment, fleeting as it is.

Perhaps it’s sheer brand loyalty. When Blue Bottle Coffee first opened in Tokyo in 2015, fans came from as far away as Osaka, thinking nothing of making a seven-hour-plus day trip simply to enjoy a taste of its iconic Gibraltar (the beverage is a double-shot of espresso and a short hit of milk, served in a 4.5 oz Libbey Gibraltar rock glass, hence the name).

I’m a huge fan of the Gibraltar myself and order it every time I visit a Blue Bottle Coffee café but to travel the duration of almost an entire working day for a cup? As King Lear put it, “O, that way madness lies” (and he’d know).

Taking a picture of Taiwan’s popular boba milk drink Tiger Sugar for Instagram.
Taking a picture of Taiwan’s popular boba milk drink Tiger Sugar for Instagram.

But perhaps both Shakespeare’s mad king and I are wrong. Blue Bottle Coffee made waves as the first company focused on single origin coffee beans to have raised US$120 million  (RM493 million) from investors before being acquired by Nestlé in 2017. They’ve struck gold — and they may be mining this treasure in the hearts of their true believers.

Therein lies the rub: Not all queues are created equal.

Some lines disappear as soon as the mania dissipates. I mean, who continues eating one of those garishly-coloured, overly-sugared pastries — be it a rainbow unicorn cupcake or a trademarked Cronut — past the initial craze?

Dominique Ansel’s croissant-doughnut hybrid launched dozens of similar chimeras but none commands quite the same following. A Duffin (doughnut-muffin) or a Wonut (waffle-doughnut), anyone?

And it’s a following that the long-sighted entrepreneur should aim for. I remember chatting with one of the baristas at Blue Bottle Coffee in Kiyosumi, home to their Tokyo roastery, and she told me about a pair of ladies who would come all the way from Kyoto each time they had a new product. (She must have told the management about this because they’ve since opened a café in Kyoto too.)

Loyal customers at Blue Bottle Coffee in Kiyosumi, Tokyo.
Loyal customers at Blue Bottle Coffee in Kiyosumi, Tokyo.

That loyalty doesn’t arise from the thrill of a single Instagram opportunity; there must be something more to keep folks coming back. In the case of Kim Peng Hiang, according to my Singaporean friends, their pineapple bak kwa isn’t just a gimmick; it’s really delicious.

And unlike other bigger bak kwa brands in town, they make it a point of not raising prices during Chinese New Year and limiting each customer to a 500 gm or 1 kilo purchase (depending on stock) to ensure everyone has a chance to enjoy their bak kwa during the festive season. These are the tiny details that turn mere social media followers into lifelong fans.

So the next time I spot a long queue, I know the question I’d ask myself: Are they here for a flash in the pan or are they die-hard fans? If it’s the latter... well, why not join me in the line?