Neil Humphreys: Don't bury Singaporean identity under mala hotpots
Eventually, a single response will suffice for any Singapore-related question, such as, where shall we eat later? Mala hotpot. Where shall we meet? Outside the mala hotpot. Where is the toilet? Beside the mala hotpot. Why do you need the toilet? Too much mala hotpot.
And those are just the everyday, run-of-the-mill enquiries. Variations on the same response will soon be applicable for the nation's existential questions.
Why do you think Singapore is losing its identity? Too much mala hotpot. Why did you leave Singapore? Too much mala hotpot. Why do you keep satirising the cultural stereotype of large sums of money arriving from a certain country? Too much mala hotpot.
When I first arrived in Singapore in 1996, my first meal was at the square-shaped hawker centre in the heart of what is now the Toa Payoh Hub.
It was homemade ginger beef in oyster sauce with a side order of kalian. Sadly, that terrific hawker centre was demolished in the previous century. On the plus side, Toa Payoh now has several mala hotpot options.
The same can also be said for Sengkang, Ang Mo Kio, Bishan, Punggol, Jurong, Woodlands and Clementi — and you get the idea. Yes, I searched all of them on Google. Yes, I really do have better things to do. Yes, my wife is already disturbed by my online search history.
And yes, you can guess where I'm going with this.
From big ideas to mala hotpot
According to recent reports, the Japanese restaurant chain Itacho Sushi is no longer around. Its outlets have been shuttered. Home-grown cafe chain The Providore has also called it a day, closing six outlets, and Australian tea specialist T2 Tea will exit the Singapore market. All of these closures happened in the last month.
A new F&B brand in Singapore is like a Timothee Chalamet Oscar campaign. They always look pretty, spend most of the year hyping their product and still end up empty-handed. But even that analogy doesn't work, unless the Oscar goes to Mala Hotpot (along with almost every other Oscar).
The reasons for the demise of so many F&B outlets since Covid-19 have been parroted to the point of parody, making it seem like a comedy skit whenever an ambitious, courageous soul decides to bring a food concept to Singapore.
Imagine the current conversation between an F&B proprietor-to-be and a potential investor:
"I'm going to open my high-concept eatery in Singapore!"
"The country with exorbitant rents, a manpower crunch, an eclectic, evolving mix of cultural backgrounds, nationalities, tastes and palates?"
"That's the one!"
"The place where restaurants go down more often than Tottenham's defence?"
"Exactly! It's an F&B goldmine!"
"What's your concept?"
"Plan A is a western vegan pizza-bagel fusion restaurant with rainforest vibes and mini waterfalls at every table."
"I'd rather put my money on Tottenham. Maybe your concept is too niche for Singapore?"
"Plan B is a mala hotpot."
"I'll give you six restaurants."
"In Singapore?"
"No, in every shopping mall."
We only miss them when they're gone
Obviously, I'm aware of my cultural hypocrisy as I gently mock the culinary homogenisation of our shopping malls.
I know there's a McDonald's on almost every corner, but as I'm now a tree-hugging vegetarian, I have less interest in a burger than Donald Trump has in a map of the Middle East.
It's not about a particular brand, but the consequences.
The increasingly bland, utilitarian nature of our shopping and eating experiences cannot be blamed on one particular franchise — and the phenomenon isn't unique to Singapore either — but its rapid acceleration can be attributed to a couple of uniquely Singaporean factors.
First, there's the "I Miss John Little" syndrome, which I just made up, but affects many of us.
We all know the symptoms. A psychiatrist might say, "Yes, Neil, I can see the closing of John Little has affected you deeply, thanks to a close attachment to a store you haven't visited since 1998, when you inadvertently bought a starchy white shirt that made you look like a malnourished nightclub bouncer. But you did rush to the closing-down sale before penning a heartfelt tribute on Facebook about the death of John Little."
In the psychiatrist's waiting room, there'd be those suffering with I Miss Itacho Sushi, I Miss The Providore, I Miss Eggslut, I Miss MPH and I Miss That Magazine Stall At Holland Village. (We just didn't miss any of them enough at the time to keep them going.)
When every mall starts looking the same
And second, the myopic nature of our rising rent cycles ensures that only the most reliable of franchises are guaranteed to pay the bills, which means less room for the independent eateries and home-grown, family-run businesses that can still be found across the Causeway.
But it does mean extra mala hotpots in our identikit shopping malls, which feel less Singaporean and more like the CGI backdrop of a generic sci-fi movie.
At this point, it wouldn't be particularly surprising if a member of the Fantastic Four stepped through sliding doors, handed us a bowl and asked if we wanted "extra spicy".
Still, the folks at the National Population and Talent Division should seriously analyse the franchise's business model. If we can learn to breed like mala hotpots, we'd have babies everywhere.
Neil Humphreys is an award-winning writer and MONEY FM radio host, a successful author and a failed footballer.
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