Dear silvers,
During my childhood, the month-long Ramadan bazaar at Woodlands was something to look forward to.
We’d head down to the festive night market as a family for saucy Ramly burgers, fried lekor (fish crackers), grilled otah and chicken wings. For us, it was a yearly feast, even if we didn’t fast like our Muslim countrymen.
But sometime around the turn of 2010, things became to change. First, Turkish kebabs crept in. Next came Japanese takoyaki (octopus balls) and okonomiyaki (savoury pancakes), to be washed down with Thai milk tea.
Fast forward to today, and the food scene at Ramadan bazaars – and especially the largest versions in Geylang Serai and Kampong Gelam – is unrecognisable.
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Examples of headline-grabbing nosh in recent years include cheesy croissants doused in chocolate sauce to be eaten with disposable gloves; coin waffles hiding a kaleidoscope of rainbow-coloured stretchy cheese; and bucket-sized drinks designed to look like a galaxy, complete with floating stars.
Though pretty, they are also gimmicky, derivative and almost certainly overpriced, their ability to go viral on social media platforms like Instagram prioritised over lesser concerns like taste and texture.
As with most new phenomena, the younger generation has been the one to take the blame for the Instagram-ification of food – only this time, we really do deserve it.
The majority of people queuing for food at bazaar stalls selling newfangled nosh look like they’re in their 30s and below, at least from our visit one Friday evening.
They’re even willing to queue for more than an hour to snag birria tacos (a type of taco stuffed with shredded, slow-cooked meat that’s eaten dipped into a spicy broth). Obviously, this isn’t traditional Ramadan bazaar grub.
Social media, of course, has a huge part to play in the popularity of visually appealing food.
According to an American study in 2017, 69% of millennials take a photo or video of their food before eating it. Though there are no specific statistics for Singaporean millennials, it is clear that social media can turn new eateries into overnight sensations with multi-hour queues.
A trend that is not new
However, this overemphasis on food’s visual appeal is nothing new – not to Singapore, and not even to the current millennia.
From as far back as 1st century ancient Rome, famed epicure Marcus Gavius Apicius had already famously coined the phrase, “We eat first with our eyes,” codifying humanity’s instinctive drive to seek out (and create) visually satisfying food.
For the ancient Romans, this came in the form of lavish banquets, where rare and expensive ingredients were often presented to reclining guests in a fashion so excessively extravagant as to put modern-day Instagram users to shame.
Some purported dishes of the time include honey-smeared nightingales stuffed with prunes, caviar-stuffed crayfish, milk-fed fattened snails and roasted wild boar.
The monarchs of Europe in the Middle Ages were also famously gluttonous, with court feasts typically featuring some combination of roasted meats – poultry, pork and beef were common, though wild game like venison was especially prized – bread, pastries and pies.
Over in China, the emperors of the Qing Dynasty, too, were partial to fabulous feasts. The most famous of these is probably the legendary Manchu-Han Imperial Banquet, a momentous — though almost assuredly, mythical — culinary spectacle said to bring together the very best of gastronomy from China’s Manchu and Han ethnic groups into a meal spanning over three full days and more than 300 hot and cold courses.
According to the legend, there were braised sea turtle legs, bear paws, deer lips, steamed camel humps, and bean curd simmered with chicken, duck and cuckoo brains – alongside more familiar dishes like bird’s nest soup, shark’s fin, dried sea cucumbers and Peking duck.
Royalty-free cooking
As you’ve probably noticed by now, gastronomic excess both culinary and visual was a luxury afforded only to the wealthiest and most powerful classes of society for most of history.
It was only until relatively recently – some say the French Revolution, somewhere around the 1800s – that the modern restaurant was born, freeing exquisitely decorated and prepared plates of food from the confines of palace kitchens.
Even then, quality grub at a price affordable to the common man was slow coming, even in a place like rapidly developing, post-independence Singapore.
Meals at a hawker centre or neighbourhood kopitiam reigned supreme, while visits to family restaurants like Jack’s Place (which opened its doors in 1966) and Han’s Cafe & Cake House (founded in 1977) remained a novelty until only the last couple of decades or so.
The long and short of it is: The younger generations like the millennials and Gen-Zs are the only people who’ve grown up with everyday access to fancy, international flavours, which would at least partially explain why we’re so willing to experiment with these tastes.
These experiments, given time, can eventually morph into a more permanent facet of Singapore’s eclectic foodie culture. The numerous bubble tea kiosks, mala stir-fry hotpot joints and even social media-friendly grain bowl concepts have proved that even the flavours du jour can have some staying power.
Though trends live and die, trendiness is eternal
Don’t get me wrong – there are certainly detriments to pandering for food that looks better than it tastes, especially when it leads to the erosion of authenticity during culturally significant events like the Ramadan bazaars.
However, we also have to accept the fact that culture and tastes can change over time. Yusheng, for example, was once a humbler salad featuring just cucumber, radish, coriander and raw fish dressed with vinegar, oil and sugar.
The modern, colourful version as we know it was only invented in the 1960s here by a quartet of famed chef apprentices, Sin Leong, Hooi Kok Wai, Tham Yui Kai and Lau Yoke Pui, now collectively known as the Four Heavenly Kings of Singapore’s culinary scene.
Clearly, the formula of shouting auspicious phrases while tossing a vibrant platter of yusheng has some sticking power – unlike other food trends that’ve quickly lost their shine.
Remember when there used to be a Rotiboy selling fragrant coffee buns at every shopping mall? Likewise, we’ll probably see a huge chunk of these trend-focused foods dying off just as swiftly as they come, only to be replaced by the next trendy food.
It’s all part of the iterative process that we call a thriving and vibrant food culture. It’s just a shame we had to lose a few Ramly burgers to do it.
