Whisper it softly, but Singapore’s national dish might actually be chicken curry.
Bowls of it pop up everywhere—at catered lunches, potlucks, canteen buffets, and at least two stalls in every hawker center. And like so many ubiquitous food traditions, every version is different.
A spoonful of one might feel like a spiced quilt on your tongue, coconut milk with a pomander, the color of a camel-hair coat. Elsewhere it’s the shade of autumn leaves, almost juicy with chile and lemongrass.
Besides the warmth of the spices, the burn of the chiles and the chunkiness of the chicken and potatoes range widely. There should be red oil floating over the gravy, but it can be islands or the sea. It’s all called chicken curry.
Sign up for the Cook's Insider newsletter
The latest recipes, tips, and tricks, plus behind-the-scenes stories from the Cook's Illustrated team.
That imprecision is what makes this dish so universal; it has the resilience of a vernacular. I think of my own version as Nanyang (南洋)—a Chinese term meaning “Southern Seas” used to describe Southeast Asia—and consider it my best attempt to recreate the one my mum and grandma made on every occasion when curry was called for (which was sometimes no occasion at all).
This recipe isn’t theirs, exactly, but it makes their curry echo deafeningly in my ears.
Rempah: Foundation of the Malay World
Rempah is incredibly complex—both the word itself and the food it describes. In much of the Malay world, it can refer to a broad family of spice mixtures.
These deeply aromatic combinations of chiles (dried and/or fresh), alliums (shallots, onions, and/or garlic), rhizomes (turmeric, galangal, and/or ginger), and sometimes dried spices such as pepper or coriander form the backbone of countless curries, stir-fries, and marinades, and there are as many distinct versions as there are cooks in and around the archipelago.
Traditionally, the components are pounded to a pulp using stone grinding tools such as a batu lesung or a batu giling and then fried in oil until concentrated and fragrant.
But “rempah” is also the Malay word for “spice” or spice ingredients in general.
According to Khir Johari, Singapore native and author of the scholarly tome The Food of the Singapore Malays: Gastronomic Travels Through the Archipelago (2021), that makes spices “arguably central to the story of colonization” in the region and also to the establishment of Singapore itself. Demand for native commodities such as pepper, coriander, and cloves compelled European explorers to seize the vast maritime region, which was eventually carved into the British and Dutch territories that later became the independent states of Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore.
Base Notes
Like countless other Singaporean preparations, this one starts with a rempah: a paste of alliums, rhizomes, and chiles ground in a mortar or blender and then slowly fried until it concentrates and starts to caramelize.
The consistency of the paste affects how you taste each component. I prefer a balanced blend, so I process the mixture until it’s smooth, grinding the items in stages so that each breaks down.
First, pulverize the dried chiles alone so that they turn to fine grit. Then, grind the shallots, fresh chiles, galangal, garlic, and turmeric to a rough paste, followed by the lemongrass.
Frying the rempah happens in stages too. First, the paste and belacan (fermented shrimp paste) sizzle in oil to drive off liquid. Then you keep cooking until the paste darkens, deepening its flavor.
It’s All Gravy
Once that base is made, you build up even more fragrance by briefly frying whole aromatics (more lemongrass, makrut lime leaves), whole spices (cinnamon, star anise, cloves), and ground spices (many recipes simply call for “curry powder”; I use coriander, fennel, and cumin) with the rempah.
When serving, those pieces are ladled into bowls right along with the chicken and potatoes; finding them in the gravy is, for me, an essential part of the eating experience.
The rest is just a simple braise: Add the chicken (typically a whole bird, jointed, but boneless, skinless thighs are easier and turn beautifully succulent), followed by water, coconut milk, and potatoes and simmer it gently until the chicken and potatoes are tender.
I like my curry on the thicker side, so I use a high ratio of coconut milk to water; as the liquid evaporates, the gravy will turn lush, velvety, and fragrant.
The Funky Depth of Belacan
Belacan (“blah-chan”) is a fermented shrimp paste that’s used extensively in cooking throughout Southeast Asia, and it’s the source of pungent depth in sambal belacan, a chile-based condiment ubiquitous throughout Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia. Belacan is also a flavor booster in countless curries, stir-fries, soups, noodle and rice dishes, and dressings. To make belacan, producers salt and grind shrimp and then sun-dry the puree before fermenting it for weeks or months to develop its distinct pungency and rich umami complexity. The resulting reddish-brown paste is sold as a dense block, which many cooks measure by slice thickness (a quarter-inch slice equals roughly 1½ tablespoons).
TW Lim is a cook and author from Singapore. His first book, Little Perfections: Eating in Singapore, will be published this fall. He splits his time between Massachusetts and the Washington, D.C., area.
Nanyang Chicken Curry with Potatoes
From home kitchens to hawker stalls throughout Singapore, diners tuck into this hearty chicken and potato braise hugged by velvety, aromatic gravy.
Get the Recipe