JULY 25 — The relative chaos and raw competition in Malaysia’s hawker scene stands apart from the sterility of Singapore’s regularly spring-cleaned food centres. And therein could lie a piece of the puzzle of how to save our hawker heritage.

Ask any Singaporean about Malaysian hawker food, and they might drool as they wax lyrical about the Hokkien mee in Kuala Lumpur (with thicker noodles and black sauce) or the wanton mee in Pontian.

But ask any Malaysian about the same fare over here, and the polite reply would likely be: “It’s different.”

Whether this is reflective of the majority of Singaporeans and Malaysians is arguable, naturally, as all we have to rely on are the inexact scientific instruments that are our tongues and stomachs.

So, yes, it could be a question of taste.

I was in KL last weekend and what struck me about the Malaysian capital is its confusing tangle of motorways and lattice of one-way roads. They are delightfully organic and a joy to drive, but only if it is past midnight and you have GPS or good map sense.

Within KL’s chaos, good food lurks. In every nook and cranny, down even dingy alleys, right next to odiferous open drains. Real hawker gourmands know where they all are, and sitting on grates over those drains is a subconscious plus — an assurance that this is real and authentic.

Stomach bugs? The best hawkers know that giving customers the runs is the best way to commit suicide in a business where there is always someone waiting to steal your spot.

Competition is tough and can get a little rough. If your char kway teow or nasi lemak is not fantastic, you will feel it with the dwindling crowds and be forced to raise your game or move out — perhaps to a less fussy kampung hundreds of kilometres away. The best, on the other hand, thrive.

Contrast that to Singapore’s well-planned and organised hawker centres, which the uncharitable would label as “sterile”. To be sure, there is still great food to be found, but the argument is that some dynamism is missing from hawkers here being dropped into neatly-designated spots, and only the expiry of the centre’s decades-long lease (or death or retirement) can dislodge them. The security of having that foothold in a food centre could be what is killing the drive to strive harder, perhaps.

Many Singaporeans do miss roadside stalls, especially those who have lived long enough to remember streets lined with hawker pushcarts that would disappear once the food ran out or there were no more hungry mouths to feed.

The revival of Gluttons Square at Marina Bay, and the attempted recreation at Smith Street in Chinatown, has drawn crowds. But they remain carefully curated facsimiles of what you can easily find in KL or even Johor Baru.

I, for one, would welcome a plan to allow certain big open-air car parks to be turned into a free-for-all for hawkers to roll up their pushcarts, chairs and such. And, no, don’t draw up lots and make them apply for permits to occupy fixed spots. Embrace the chaos and let the best hawker win.

Do we even have enough hawkers with pushcarts? We are a long way away from seeding another Jalan Alor, but there is no harm in trying and giving this experiment time to flourish. — Today

* David Ngiau, a deputy digital media editor at Today, was born in Kuala Lumpur and has called Singapore home for over 30 years.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malay Mail Online.