Like every other year, bazaars have been popping up across the island since Ramadan started this month.
Visitors will have no shortage of food to choose from, but if you’ve noticed, one category of snack normally found at these bazaars seems to be fading from sight — traditional Malay kuih.
During your last visit to a Ramadan bazaar, how many stalls have you seen actually selling traditional kuih like dadar gulung or dodol?
Compare that to the number of vendors at these bazaars selling, for the lack of a better term, “exotic” snacks hailing from Japan, the Middle East and anywhere in between.
What explains this supposed lack of presence of our traditional kuih and snacks? And does it matter?
Perhaps the answers can be gleaned by asking different generations for their thoughts on the matter.
Hussain Mohammad, 84, was blunt with his reasoning: “It’s difficult [because] there isn’t an interest among younger generations. They want cookies and cakes now.”
When asked what he sees at Ramadan bazaars nowadays, the retiree replied: “There’s all these ‘modern’ burgers that the younger kids are more interested in.”
So is this simply a case of supply and demand? If the traditional kuih isn’t as marketable, vendors will naturally pivot to what is.
Food for thought
Looking at the issue through the lens of a Gen Z consumer can add a layer of depth to the conversation.
Nineteen-year-old Haziq Razak shared with us that traditional kuih and snacks, such as kuih salat or epok epok, remain a staple in his diet.
This is down to his father regularly “buying kuih every morning”, he added.
The polytechnic student acknowledged that this practice isn’t the most common in Malay households today, though.
And when it comes to Ramadan bazaars, these treats aren’t as widely available as one might expect.
Haziq recalled being “quite surprised” by the presence of “fusion food” at the last Ramadan bazaar he visited in Woodlands.
The trendy offerings he noticed included tornado potatoes from South Korea or milk tea popularised by Thailand.
Interestingly, Haziq is aware that his preference for tradition is not the norm among his peers.
He pointed to Kunafa Milo Dinosaur, a combination of a Middle Eastern dessert and a popular local drink, as an example of his friends being hyped by food trends at Ramadan bazaars.
While he understands why his friends enjoy such goodies, Haziq sees these creations as nothing more than fleeting fads, driven by influencers on social media.
And because of that, he is adamant that traditional kuih should not completely vanish from Ramadan bazaars.
When asked why, he simply replied: “It reminds us of our tradition.”
While some might observe a dearth of traditional kuih and food at these bazaars, bazaar organisers have noted to us that effort has been made to ensure there is space for them.
For example, at Geylang Serai Ramadan Bazaar, at least 60 per cent of F&B stalls sell Hari Raya and Ramadan traditional food, according to a Wisma Geylang Serai (WGS) spokesperson.
They added: “To give visitors more affordable choices at the bazaar, WGS together with the bazaar operator have worked with the F&B vendors so that they offer two food items at $3 each.”
Similarly, Kampong Gelam Ramadan Bazaar offers a selection of food comprising 30 per cent traditional and 70 per cent contemporary items.
When we asked about this breakdown at the bazaar’s official opening, bazaar organiser Kamal Rouzie had said: “It is very challenging to get the balance right.”
That said, he had also stated that tradition cannot be forgotten either. “The 30 per cent is important because it’s Ramadan; there needs to be traditional food like lemang, kuih and nasi padang.”
More than just a snack
“Make kuih great again.”
This was just one of the many witty one-liners Hidayah Amin dropped during our chat.
It was clear from the get-go that traditional kuih is a subject she holds dear to her heart. While not a chef or F&B entrepreneur, Hidayah champions kuih through her writing.
Skim through her book Kuih: From Apam to Wajik and you’ll notice that it is more than a collection of illustrations.
One can even see it as an open invitation for readers to discover and appreciate the role of kuih in Malay heritage.
As we spoke, she listed some kuih featured in her book, from kuih kacau to kuih serabai.
I struggled to keep up, realising just how many I’ve never heard of.
“Tak kenal maka tak cinta (You cannot love what you do not know).”
This Malay proverb perfectly captures the reality of traditional kuih today.
If people aren’t exposed to the stories and history behind these different kuih, how can they be expected to embrace it? I was experiencing this in real time.
The less we see and know about kuih, the more it fades from our memory.
“It boils down to the fact that people don’t put value on kuih. When this happens, you won’t see the need to sell or promote it,” she explained.
While she doesn’t claim to have all the answers, Hidayah pointed to factors like “market forces” and the rise of social media since the Y2K era as potential reasons for kuih’s fading presence at Ramadan bazaars.
“Not everything needs to be hipster,” she pointed out, in reference to the trendy snacks that have become a staple at Ramadan bazaars over the years.
Should we not act on this issue to preserve our traditional kuih and snacks?
For Hidayah, the answer is clear.
“This is your identity. How can you belittle it to this extent?” she asked.
Honouring tradition
While consumers can get the ball rolling with the purchases they make, vendors at Ramadan bazaars also play a crucial role in ensuring these sweet treasures stay relevant.
Few understand this challenge more than Roza Elfita.
The 50-year-old has been a stall vendor at Geylang Serai Ramadan Bazaar since 2011.
She takes pride in her traditional homemade apam balik, emphasising that everything “from the dough to the flour” is made from scratch.
Yet, even with her insistence on tradition, the Padang native admitted that she has had to adjust her menu to adapt to shifting consumers’ preferences.
“After the pandemic in 2019, we started adding special flavours,” she added, pointing to variations like Ondeh-Ondeh and Cheesy Oreo.
While these new offerings drew interest, striking a balance between tradition and profit isn’t easy — especially with the $15,000 rental fee she has to cover.
Roza’s apam balik starts from $5 and even then, some customers balk at the cost of her entry-level menu item.
“It’s just flour, why is it $5?”
Roza sighed as she recounts this familiar complaint.
It served as a reminder that having consumers appreciate traditional kuih is a challenge.
This ties back to Hidayah’s point of people failing to see the value of these treats.
Chef Ilya Nur Fadhly echoed the sentiments of others we spoke to, stressing that traditional kuih and snacks still hold a place in Ramadan bazaars.
However, the MasterChef Singapore finalist warned that “trending snacks will never go away”.
So, how then can the existence of traditional kuih and snacks continue at future Ramadan bazaars?
Ilya offered an example in the form of his version of kek sarang semut, which includes almond crumble, tapai ice cream and caramel sauce.
Ilya explained: “Instead of just selling the traditional item on its own, you can value add by adding other things to keep it more exciting.”
According to him, this process of value adding brings a new experience to his diners as to how they can enjoy the traditional kuih.
“But I don’t want to stray too far from the actual kuih,” he emphasised.
“I want to honour not just the technique, but also the appearance, the processes and ingredients.”
In essence, keeping traditional kuih and snacks alive at Ramadan bazaars requires a balance of subtle reinvention while staying true to its roots.
And for that to happen, all parties involved — from consumer to vendor — must play their part in preserving these treats for future generations.
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