I don’t think anyone would disagree that Singapore truly is a foodie paradise given the vast selection of local dishes we have to offer. Not to mention, we also have a pretty impressive range of international fare.
But like many other foodies, I believe that this reputation is slowly but surely diminishing.
Why would I say this? Because the core of our food culture – yes, I’m referring to our hawker culture – is dying.
I find this to be very telling because I’m finding it increasingly difficult to find Hokkien mee in hawker centres these days.
Let’s not even get started on finding good Hokkien mee.
Many of my foodie friends share the same sentiment, and we are all in agreement of the reason – we have more old hawkers retiring than young hawkers entering the scene.
It’s no surprise this is the case. With rents soaring to absurd levels and food prices rising, it’s becoming more and more difficult to earn a decent living as a hawker. Let’s be honest, not many are willing to suffer for their craft.
It’s always heartening to see young people take on the challenge of the hawker trade, but I’ve also noticed that many of these individuals aren’t exactly selling what Ah Gong used to sell.
Case in point? Those selling the “fusion” stuff like fettucine in laksa gravy or tacos filled with Singapore chilli crab or mee pok with Japanese eel and organic enoki mushrooms.
I must admit I’m in two minds regarding this. On the one hand, I cannot help but think that these young hawkers are just selling woke rojak that is compliant with today’s DEI and sustainability standards.
On the other hand, I’m thinking that this is simply inevitable given the relentless march of societal evolution. Just look at the way Generation Alpha has been reinventing the English language.
Apparently, words like “good” and “bad” have been replaced by “skibidi”. And then there’s “delulu”, which refers to someone who is delusional.
I’m really curious about who invented these words and how they did it. I’m also curious about how NS terms like hor-lan came about. Did someone once get lost during a topography exercise and end up at Holland Village?
Anyway, I shudder when I imagine that today’s well-loved Milo Dinosaur could eventually be gentrified into something like an Earl Grey Volcano that is sold at prata stores that also sell murtabak filled with plant-based mutton.
I don’t think such a scenario would be entirely, ahem, Impossible.
I mean, think about it – every generation of NSmen is a bit like these new hawkers. The lao jiaos (old uncles) love to roll their eyes and say, “Back in my day, we carried rifles, not iPads, and fought real battles, not some Donkey Kong video game!” And the younger NSmen will just shrug and go, “Uncle, you use M16? Cute. We’ve got SAR21, thermal sights, and have you tried doing IPPT with the new scoring system? Bro, we’re running faster than your WhatsApp replies!”
At the end of the day, the premise of what makes a dish truly Singaporean is highly subjective. The purists might say we need to preserve heritage by not meddling with the ingredients of traditional dishes from yesteryears. Others might argue that we simply need dishes that reflect the Singapore identity.
I know of one category of food that somewhat straddles both these realms – SAF combat rations. If you didn’t suffer through eating them in the jungle at 3 am, are you even Singaporean? I remember sitting in a muddy trench with my buddies, cracking open a pack of chicken Maggi noodles. Not the greatest meal, but when you’ve been bashing through jungle all day and dodging mozzies the size of helicopters, it’s practically a Michelin-star experience.
Given the fact that nearly all Singaporean men have ingested this at some point in their lives, I think that combat rations do in a way unify us. Besides, National Service truly is something that is quintessentially Singaporean.
And this is why I’m planning to open a hawker stall selling food prepared using combat rations. I’m convinced it will be a hit. Or am I being delulu?
Why would people pay to eat combat rations and be reminded of those miserable outfield moments? Because I’m adding a dash of rizz I know they’ll be able to appreciate.
I will, for example, jazz up the Javanese Noodle with Chicken Frank combat ration meal with sous vide free-range chicken, sautéed kohlrabi and a kefir reduction before serving it with a light and delicious kimchi consommé.
As for the Sweet Pumpkin with Barley and Nata dessert that comes in the same combat ration pack, I will spruce things up by adding a tangy compote made using raspberries grown on an idyllic chateau in Choa Chu Kang. I’ll then top it off with a sprinkling of crushed edible flowers like Tonkin Jasmine and Ulam Raja straight from the Botanical Gardens. Fancy right? It’s like Field Camp meets MasterChef – but with less mud.
But back to the hawkers. Just like how some of us mastered the art of chao keng (for the uninitiated, this is the fine art of looking busy while doing nothing in NS), young hawkers today are finding clever ways to keep the trade alive. Sure, it’s not the old-school Hokkien mee you grew up with, but it’s their way of making things work in a changing world. In NS, we call it “adapting to the terrain.” After all, every generation has its own way of surviving. Back in the day, we had to navigate using paper maps, while today’s recruits whip out GPS on their smartphones (but they still manage to hor-lan somehow, go figure).
Just recently, I was at a hawker stall watching a group of young NSmen wolfing down prata with their platoon mates. The sight brought back a flood of memories – prata after an overnight guard duty, the way it somehow tasted better after being awake for 24 hours straight. And here they were, laughing, arguing over who owed who a Milo Dinosaur. It’s the same story, just with a different generation – new recruits, same bonds.
Even though hawker food and NS have both changed, the heart of it remains the same: the sense of unity, shared suffering (and joy), and the memories we make along the way. Whether it’s complaining about the price of char kway teow or reminiscing about outfield exercises, it’s these experiences that bind us together as Singaporeans.
Coming back to my venture, you may ask, why would anyone voluntarily fork out good money to eat something that reminds them of miserable, muddy outfield days? Because memories, my friend. We Singaporeans love to complain, but deep down, we also love to revisit shared experiences – especially when you can do it in comfort and style, without having to wake up at 5am for morning PT.
At this moment you’re probably thinking that such fancy renditions of local food would not appeal to the older generation of Singaporean men.
Trust me. I have just the fix for that.
I’ll just throw in a pretty beer lady.
PS: If your better halves question why you were at Block 491 Jurong West Street 1 checking out the Hollandia beer lady, I suggest using this response: “I hor-lan, dear.”
LOL Mondays is an ongoing series of slice-of-life stories from freelance writer and NSman Ethan Lim. Look out for the humorous tales which will be posted every first Monday of the month, to help you drive away your Monday blues!
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