Commentary: Steak, donburi – do non-Singaporean dishes belong in hawker centres?
Hawker food gives generations of Singaporeans a shared sense of home. But what counts as “local food” in the first place? Food writer Pamelia Chia weighs in.
New: You can now listen to articles.
This audio is generated by an AI tool.
Read a summary of this article on FAST.
Get bite-sized news via a new
cards interface. Give it a try.
Click here to return to FAST
Tap here to return to FAST
FAST
SINGAPORE: Each time I return to Singapore, I make a beeline for a hawker centre for my local favourites: chicken rice, nasi lemak, laksa and more.
Yet, my social media feed increasingly features hawkers selling steak, croque monsieur and donburi – dishes that might have once seemed out of place in a hawker centre or coffeeshop.
For aspiring food entrepreneurs, hawker stalls offer a relatively low-cost way to test a business concept. The sisters behind Butter Town began selling shio pan from a hawker stall, partly because the startup costs were lower than a cafe’s. Their success allowed them to establish a commercial kitchen and partner with Japanese-style cafe chain Hvala.
Similarly, former L’Entrecote chefs Visman Selvan and Vera Chionh set up Swag & Sizzle to offer Western dishes at more accessible prices than a conventional restaurant.
Guess Word
Crack the word, one row at a time
Buzzword
Create words using the given letters
Mini Sudoku
Tiny puzzle, mighty brain teaser
Mini Crossword
Small grid, big challenge
Word Search
Spot as many words as you can
But this evolution has raised concerns. In 2021, then Non-Constituency Member of Parliament Leong Mun Wai warned that foreign food could come at the expense of local dishes.
More recently, MP Jamus Lim (WP-Sengkang) argued that coffee shop and hawker centre operators should have a tenant mix that includes a minimum share of local cuisine and halal options, amid concerns that larger foreign chains could crowd out smaller F&B businesses.
Hawker food connects generations of Singaporeans to a shared sense of home. Should hawker food, then, be curated? What exactly counts as “local” food in the first place?
THE SLIPPERY CONCEPT OF AUTHENTICITY
Culinary purity has never really existed. Many dishes we consider local specialities draw on traditions beyond our shores: Hainanese chicken rice has roots in Hainan, while roti prata derives from Indian paratha. Over time, such foods adapted to local tastes and became part of everyday life.
A dish need not be radically transformed to acquire local significance. Hainanese Western food, for instance, is a familiar fixture in many kopitiams. A plate of chicken chop with fries, baked beans and brown sauce might resemble a meal in the West. Yet, for many Singaporeans, it is a familiar taste of home.
The same could be said of a more recent addition to Singapore’s food scene: mala xiang guo, a dish originating in China that has become a familiar sight in hawker centres. Its foreign origins do not make Singaporeans’ attachment to it any less real.
These examples expose the difficulty of drawing a firm boundary between local and foreign food. Curation based on a fixed idea of authenticity assumes that there is a definitive version of hawker food, and risks becoming an exercise in deciding which parts of Singapore’s culinary history deserve to be preserved, and which foods are not entitled to belong.
FOREIGN FOODS ARE NOT THE REAL THREAT
In response to Mr Leong’s concerns in 2021, then Senior Minister of State for Sustainability and the Environment Amy Khor argued that Singapore’s cosmopolitan nature meant hawker centres would naturally offer a wide variety of foods. The priority, she said, was to ensure they continued providing affordable, delicious food in a clean environment.
But hawker centres are more than a source of cheap, tasty meals. They – and the dishes that are synonymous with them – are an expression of Singapore’s shared identity and collective memory. The recognition of Singapore’s hawker culture by UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage in 2020 underscores the importance of keeping it alive.
The more pressing threat may have less to do with what new stalls sell than with whether traditional hawkers can afford to keep selling what they do. As I argued in a previous commentary, customers’ entrenched expectations of what familiar staples should cost leave limited room for price increases.
Some hawkers continue to sell their dishes for less than S$4, a tall order considering rising operating costs. By contrast, a brownie sold at a hawker centre could command more than double that price.
In October, the owners of New Horse Noodles at Chinatown Complex Food Centre announced they were closing their hawker business after five months of running it. The brothers, who were formerly in the finance industry, shared that they were earning substantially less while working around 70 hours a week.
If local stalls close, the problem may lie less with the Korean food stall next door than with the economics of running a traditional hawker business.
Foreign influences can also give traditional dishes a new lease of life. Melvin Chew who runs Jin Ji Teochew Braised Duck & Kway Chap at Chinatown Complex, for instance, has incorporated kway chap flavours into bento offerings. In a 2020 interview I conducted with him, he explained that the dish was losing popularity among younger diners, prompting him to experiment.
For food to remain a living heritage, it must be eaten. Preserving hawker culture therefore means keeping traditions alive in practice, not just protecting them in principle.
A LIVING CULTURE CANNOT BE FROZEN IN TIME
When I think of my fondest memories of Singapore’s hawker centres, they are not neatly divided into “local” and “foreign” food.
I remember looking forward to the freshly baked chocolate muffins my aunts would buy every weekend from Shunfu Market. I remember indulging in chicken chop for supper with my piano teacher after night classes. And I remember the incredible lunches I’ve enjoyed at the Sri Lankan hawker stall in Tekka Centre whenever I was in the area.
None of these memories feels less Singaporean because the food originated elsewhere. After all, culture is not defined only by where something came from, but also by how people fold it into their lives.
A hawker selling donburi does not have to mean the death of chicken rice. It may simply be the latest chapter in a food culture that has always been shaped by the outside world – and has repeatedly found a way to make those influences its own.
Pamelia Chia is the author of the cookbooks Wet Market to Table and PlantAsia, and writer of the Singapore Noodles newsletter.
Source: CNA/el
Sign up for our newsletters
Get the CNA app
Stay updated with notifications for breaking news and our best stories
Get WhatsApp alerts
Join our channel for the top reads for the day on your preferred chat app
Get bite-sized news via a new
cards interface. Give it a try.
Click here to return to FAST
Tap here to return to FAST
FAST
