Why quirky and overpriced treats are a modern joy, not a culinary crime.
Dear Singaporeans, let’s pause for a moment and appreciate the whimsical delights of Ramadan Bazaar food.
Do you not find joy in the delightful absurdity of upscale street food, like Maggi curry mee gelato served in a salt-rimmed cocktail glass? Or the creative brilliance of french fries tucked into quirky cigarette boxes?
Was the culinary innovation of rainbow bagels not enough to spark wonder? And what about the fusion marvel of Ondeh Ondeh Churros—where the sweetness of gula melaka meets a Spanish classic? Surely, these are achievements worth celebrating.
Every year, Instagram lights up with the vibrant aesthetics of bizarre treats, drawing friends and foodies to bazaars nationwide. Is there not joy in creating “must-try” listicle fodder for local blogs, all for the thrill of the hunt for photogenic snacks?
Let’s not forget the delightful indulgence of drowning everything in nacho cheese and mayonnaise, where the greasy satisfaction of deep-fried decadence reigns supreme. Yes, a nutritionist may shudder, but isn’t that part of the fun?
Take a stroll through these bazaars, and you’ll notice a recurring homage to international flavors—takoyaki, taiyaki, and TikTok-famous Korean cheese pastries. They may not always match their origins, but they bring a dash of cosmopolitan flair to the pasar malam scene.
Packaging innovation is another highlight—think neon drinks in literal buckets, or desserts bursting with Nutella, biscoff, and red velvet toppings. These decadent treats are unapologetically designed for Instagrammability and sugary splendor.
Sure, prices have risen—gone are the days of $2 Ramly Burgers and bags of hot keropok lekor overflowing with crispy goodness. But consider the costs vendors face, from stall rentals reaching $25,000 last year to this year’s capped $15,000, which still challenges profitability.
These vendors, armed with creativity and determination, are doing their best to survive in an unforgiving economy. Their extravagant prices reflect the hard reality of high rental costs and competition for attention in a bustling bazaar.
So, while we may long for the simpler, cheaper past, let’s also appreciate the quirky, over-the-top present. Ramadan bazaars are still here, despite the challenges—and they continue to bring joy, flavor, and creativity to our lives.
What do you think? Let me know!
