This fascinating and insightful volume introduces readers to food as a window to the social and cultural history and geography of Singapore. It demonstrates how the food we consume, the ways in which we acquire and prepare it, the company we keep as we cook and eat, and our preferences and practices are all revealing of a larger economic, social, cultural and political world, both historically and in contemporary times. Readers will be captivated by chapters that deal with the intersections of food and ethnicity, gender and class, food hybridity, innovations and creativity, heritage and change, globalization and localization, and more. This is a must-read for anyone interested in Singapore culture and society.
I suppose this is a necessary book for Singaporean academia, and for Singaporeans themselves.
I just wish it wasn't so crippled by this continual desire to namedrop this-and-that theorist and their so-and-so theory and sprinkle so much unnecessary verbiage.
That's probably an occupational hazard of writing as a sociologist or a cultural geographer, but sometimes it feels like the writers spend more time *explicating* (oh, the number of times this word pops up unnecessarily in this book!) on "what other theorists have thought about this idea" than the actual Singaporean realities they are (purportedly) trying to describe. Strangely and ironically enough, a key, titular concept like "foodways", which one assumes to be technical academic language, doesn't even merit a working definition until p.230 of the book! There are also many instances where, after an unnecessarily long sentence or paragraph, one has to seriously wonder if so many words were needed to make such an obvious point.
More problematic than verbal diarrhoea is when these essays veer into historical arguments, but use either secondary sources, or repeatedly use only one or three primary sources to make rather sweeping claims about particular time periods.
Reading this book, I felt like a fool watching the Emperor swan around in his new clothes. At the same, i couldn't help but be reminded of Roald Dahl's image of male African bullfrogs(?) in the jungle, falling so in love with their own mating cries that they forget why they were making those cries in the first place.
It is important to first establish that this book was published in 2015, and much has changed since then. Accelerated globalisation has further transformed Singapore’s food landscape and the ways we relate to food, which added to my enjoyment and appreciation of the read. That said, the book is often overly verbose, and quite academic (I wish the references weren't author-date citation system style but rather footnotes or endnotes). Still, it opens strongly, and I especially enjoyed Chapter 1 by Chua Beng Huat, which discusses how “the street” was taken out of street food in Singapore, as well as the chapter on the eradication of pig farming. I also enjoyed the chapter tracing the establishment and evolution of kopitiam culture.
Reading this book a decade later makes it especially interesting to observe just how thoroughly globalisation has embedded itself into Singaporean food culture, even at the home dining table, particularly among the cosmopolitan middle class. I’d give it a solid 3.5 stars. ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5/5
I found myself reflecting on how much another 10-15 years (15, because I'm sure some chapters had been prepared and written sometime prior to publication) has changed the landscape even further. The influx of Chinese capital has reshaped food offerings; there has also been an even greater shift towards catering to the more discerning tastes of the growing middle class, seen in the rapid expansion of and the emergence of more upmarket kopitiam concepts such as Chang Cheng’s Makan Street, Timbre+, the rising popularity of Food Republic, and the proliferation of the FairPrice Finest model. Food spaces today increasingly blend convenience, lifestyle, and class aspiration.
Food culture has undoubtedly become even more international, and this cosmopolitanism is now fully embedded within the heartlands as well. A hawker centre today might simultaneously sell mala xiang guo, Korean fried chicken, and strawberry matcha latte drinks alongside economic bee hoon, chicken rice, ayam penyet, wanton noodles, and kopi o kosong. This merger has become increasingly commonplace.
There has also been further consolidation within the food industry, mirroring the broader global trend towards corporate consolidation and the dominance of large conglomerates across industries. Many stalls are now franchised/chains, eking out smaller independent vendors. Correspondingly, many of the faces behind hawker stalls are energetic foreign workers from Malaysia or China, rather than independent owners.
Another interesting observation is the "de-atasification" of Thai food in Singapore. It has become ordinary and ubiquitous, and one would not be surprised by its appearance in coffeeshops. Restaurant-based Thai food, has, I think, lost popularity (see: Thai eatery Soi 47 S'pore outlets shuttered; downsizing of ThaiExpress). The current trend now seems to favour PRC Chinese food, alongside newer “unorthodox” or premium Korean offerings such as gukbap and artisanal bakeries like Standard Bread.
There also seems to be an undercurrent erosion of certain distinctly Singaporean flavours in favour of Malaysian-style interpretations, perhaps because many chefs and hawkers here are Malaysian, and perhaps also because, many Singaporeans themselves were once Malaysians? Char kway teow is a good example; more often than not, I have found that many versions, especially the more upscale ones, tastes closer to the Malaysian style nowadays than the older local version.
As a creative exploration of the ways that food becomes integral to our cultural, social and political landscapes, this was a pleasant light read that was thought-provoking in many ways. I especially enjoyed how it dealt with ideas like food as a sensory experience, and its connections to memory, nostalgia and idealism. However, I felt that in trying to cover a very broad set of themes, this book failed to go deep into the nuances of how these observations unfold. I think I was thus left with many more questions about the broader implications of many of the writers' observations, or even what the underlying problematics behind many trends and patterns were.
Dense, academic. The first chapter was a strong start - a history of hawkers and how timing mattered. The last few chapters were a slog. Interesting ideas, but feels like a lot of academic jargon.
I liked the chapter about snacks and how it has changed over time. And Adeline Tay has a lovely turn of phrase:
Biscuits are a currency. They buy time but they also allow future time to be stored in them.
(This follows a paragraph on how biscuits stave off hunger pangs)
The chapter about how kopitiams are multi-ethnic by design was interesting.
Vineeta has a chapter about how people cook less; I thought she could have linked it to shrinking kitchen sizes.
writing could be improved with more precision less verbosity but i guess it is hard to really coordinate with so many authors with their own styles. i found the content itself super interesting though, very well picked and would have been good to see more of Chua Beng Huat’s style of personal writing, instead of the over academising (but not rigorous enough to be called academic) approach to each topic. overall though, it filled me with a strong sense of nostalgia and feeling of being understood with parts of my food childhood and culture made legible