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@Cybertan   https://www.channelnewsasia.com/today/voices/singapore-hawker-culture-local-food-coffee-shops-community-5321761?cid=FBcna&fbclid=IwY2xjawMhSzlleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHiIorzV3iOS57K3TMDVPwD2asiMo46LgjuhMgAUFpLnzS7xQRSUlbrMp7ITN_aem_2fm46JXbs53XXXn6e-A5ww     As a Singaporean, here's why hearing about hawker struggles breaks my heart Despite hawker food's enduring popularity among Singaporeans, each day only seems to bring dire news. CNA TODAY's Loraine Lee wonders: Are we in danger of losing our hawker culture as we know it? Like many Singaporeans, CNA TODAY's Loraine Lee (pictured) has a special place in her heart for the country's hawker food and culture. (Photo: CNA/Alyssa Tan)   Listen 8 min New: You can now listen to articles. Loraine Lee 29 Aug 2025 09:30PM(Updated: 30 Aug 2025 06:02AM) Bookmark WhatsAppTelegramFacebookTwitterEmailLinkedIn Read a summary of this article on FAST.     FAST I had my first heartbreak at just nine years old, when my favourite chicken rice stall closed down.  Never again would I join the long, snaking line for this well-loved dish with other eager, hungry patrons. Never again would I get a taste of that succulent, steamed chicken meat atop the fragrant, oily rice that hit all the right notes. Worst of all, never again would I see the "uncle" who fondly called me "xiao mei" (little girl) and gave me an extra bowl – yes, an entire soup bowl – of sliced cucumbers every time I visited, just because he knew I enjoyed them. If there's one thing Singaporeans can all be proud of, it's our food.  Upon returning from any trip overseas, there's nothing I crave more than a heaping plate of hawker fare – and I'm sure I'm not alone in this.  Here, we complain about heat and humidity all the time. All the same, there's something oddly comforting about going to a coffee shop under the blazing Singapore sun and tucking into a hot bowl of fish soup. (If you're lucky, you may have snagged one of the few tables under the rattling overhead fan.) It's not just about eating either. Nothing says "home" to me quite like the clacking of char kway teow being stir-fried in a wok, or the greasy scent of goreng pisang and you tiao (fried dough fritters) in a coffee shop.  Despite hawker food's enduring popularity among Singaporeans, each day only seems to bring dire news: Another favourite stall closing down, another seller laments about rising costs, another controversy about hawker regulations, manpower problems and other ominous issues.  Is Singapore's hawker culture, as we know it, doomed?    Related: Why I don’t complain that Singapore is boring FEEDING FOND MEMORIES AND COMMUNITY A decade ago, as my 16th birthday approached, my parents asked me how I would like to celebrate this milestone. Without hesitation, I begged for Hainanese curry rice.  Family and friends thought of it as an odd choice. After all, 16th birthdays are a special occasion. Aren't special occasions typically celebrated in a "nice" restaurant with servers attending to you, a leather-bound, laminated menu to flip through and the air-conditioning blowing at full blast? Seated at Loo's Hainanese Curry Rice in Tiong Bahru, my entire dish was a single solid brown colour from the copious amount of curry slathered on it. To make it known that this was indeed a special occasion, I had ordered both the braised pork belly and the pork cutlet. On that day and in my mind, the flavour of my curry-soaked meal was something no restaurant could beat, no matter how "nice" they were. Ms Loraine Lee (seated second from right) having lunch at Loo's Hainanese Curry Rice on Aug 25, 2025 with her sister Laura Lee (second from left) and their parents, Mrs Ruth Lee and Mr Edward Lee. (Photo: CNA/Alyssa Tan) Hawker centres are not just places to fill our stomachs. They're where we find and form our shared sense of community.  Singapore's hawker centres and coffee shops are among the few places where people from all walks of life regularly gather. It's never unusual to see foreign labourers, well-dressed executives, students in school uniforms and housewives toting grocery bags all queuing for the same plate of cai fan (economy rice). After a long day of work or school and even in our haggard states, where else would we find people who would call us "mei nu" (pretty woman) or "shuai ge" (handsome man) as they sell us food and drink?  Where else would a kind makcik (Malay for "aunty") sneakily add an extra slice of meat to your nasi lemak just because she can tell with one glance you've had a rough day? Beyond the smiles and niceties, even the grumpy, uncouth vendors bring a unique charm to our hawker culture.  You know them – the ones who may intimidate or irritate us with their crude speech and brusque attitude, but serve up a bowl of prawn noodles so good that all their minor sins are forgotten with the first bite.  Even though no two hawker centres are identical, they share certain similarities that can be comforting.  Whether you're in Bedok or Bukit Panjang, step into a coffee shop and you can bet there'll be a table of middle-aged or older men bonding over drinks or watching some programme on the television screen in the corner, their female counterparts chattering about the weather and groceries, and customers buzzing around the cai fan stall regardless of what time of day it is.  "While no two hawker centres are identical, they share certain similarities that can be comforting," says the writer. (Photo: CNA/Alyssa Tan) NOTHING LASTS FOREVER? Hawkering has never been an easy job. How many of us can spend hours on end slaving away in front of a hot stove in the sweltering heat and dealing with long lines of customers, some of whom can be impatient, unreasonable and even rude?  Much has happened in recent years to make this burden even heavier and more complex.  With the median age of hawkers hovering at 60 since 2021, more of these workers are ageing into retirement, shuttering their long-beloved stalls in favour of some much-deserved rest.  Others are finding it increasingly untenable to sustain their businesses as rising costs eat up their profits. Although more of the young have been joining the hawker scene of late, they bring with them various changes.  Some continue to whip up the same local delights, true to the original recipe, but it is also increasingly common for newer, younger entrants to inject their creativity into fusion dishes or offer alternative options such as Japanese rice bowls and salad bowls.  Food will never be static. In a way, it's natural that our hawker scene is evolving.  Even so, the changes I'm seeing do make me uncomfortable at times. I find myself wondering: In another few years, what will happen to the coffee shops I've frequented all these years? Will they soon become a thing of the past, too?    THE HAWKER CENTRE I WANT The growing tension between the mounting strain on Singapore's hawkers and the rising prices of food is often in the public spotlight these days. Truth be told, the ongoing discourse on this often leaves me feeling conflicted.  There's a growing call for consumers to be willing to pay more for hawker food, and I have certainly paid a hefty sum for such fare, especially in the central parts of Singapore. Yet, simply raising prices feels like a stopgap measure that, in the long run, threatens the unifying trait of Singapore hawker food. Can hawker fare remain our "common language" if more people are being priced out of the food that feeds the masses?  I want hawkers to struggle less; I also want hawker food to remain as affordable as possible. Anyone and everyone in Singapore should be able to enjoy a good meal at a hawker centre or a coffee shop. To truly protect the unique charm of hawker culture, we need to look for ways to make this food affordable while ensuring that those who serve it to us can earn a decent living.  Could we ease hawkers' burdens by imposing limits on stall rentals, or providing extra grants to bring down their burgeoning costs?  Some may say this is overly idealistic. But to me, these are ideas worth exploring, because what I want is for my future children to hear a coffee shop aunty or uncle greet them as "xiao mei" or "xiao di", and to know how a delicious bowl of bak chor mee (minced pork noodles) or laksa (coconut-infused curry soup noodles) can sustain one through good times and bad.  I hope it's not asking for too much to want Singapore's hawker centres and coffee shops to remain places of comfort, community and gathering for all. And for my favourite Hainanese curry rice store to stay open long enough for me to celebrate every birthday till I die. Loraine Lee is a journalist at CNA TODAY who loves to eat chicken rice at Ang Mo Kio, wanton mee at Pasir Ris, congee in Hougang, Hainanese curry rice in Geylang and cai fan in Chinatown. If you have an experience to share or know someone who wishes to contribute to this series, write to [email protected] with your full name, address and phone number.