Makan

Think of this as the zesty, spicy, and crunchy soulmate to your nasi lemak or biryani. It’s a punchy pickle made of pickled veggies like carrots, cucumbers, and cabbage tossed in a spicy-sweet-sour gravy with peanuts – perfect for waking up your taste buds when your main dish feels a bit too heavy.

A chewy, sticky little dumpling that looks like a miniature red tortoise shell. It’s stuffed with sweet bean or peanut paste and is the snack of choice for birthdays and baby showers because we’re all about wishing for a long, prosperous life.

The undisputed king of sour-spicy noodle soups. It’s a rich, punchy broth made with flaked mackerel and tamarind that hits you with an electric zing, usually topped with cucumber, pineapple, and a generous dollop of prawn paste. One spoonful and your eyebrows will definitely do a little dance.

Technically, it means chicken, but in our streets, it’s also a gentle way to call someone a bit of a scaredy-cat or a softie. You’ll also spot it on familiar yellow tins at the supermarket—that iconic heritage brand that’s been in our kitchens since forever.

This is essentially the 'biceps-worked' version of fried chicken from Indonesia. The meat is smashed with a pestle before serving, which makes it super tender and gives the spicy sambal more surface area to cling onto. Warning: the standard plate comes with a mountain of chili that might just remind you of your mortality.

The undisputed king of the Dragon Boat Festival, this is a sticky, glorious pyramid of glutinous rice loaded with marinated pork, mushrooms, and chestnut, all bundled up in bamboo leaves. Think of it as a heavy, savoury gift that’s been steamed to perfection; you eat one, and you’re pretty much set for the next five hours.

The undisputed king of hawker breakfasts. It’s a bowl of springy egg noodles tossed in a wicked mix of vinegar, chili, and pork lard, topped with minced pork, sliced mushrooms, and sometimes a cheeky piece of crispy fried fish maw. Order it 'dry' if you want the full vinegary kick, or 'soup' if you need something to soothe your soul.

A legendary herbal pork rib soup that hits different after a long night out or during a rainy day. It's basically a soulful, peppery, garlic-heavy bowl of comfort that makes you feel like your ancestors are giving you a hug from the inside.

Essentially Singapore's answer to jerky, but way more sinful and addictive. It's thin sheets of marinated meat grilled over charcoal until they get that perfect balance of smoky, sticky, and sweet, especially popular when queues stretch for miles during Chinese New Year.

A vibrant, neon-pink drink that hits the sweet spot between floral and milky. It’s basically evaporated milk mixed with rose syrup, usually served over ice to cool you down after a plate of extra spicy nasi lemak.

It’s a Swiss Army knife of a word. It can mean that fluffy, steamed bun you grab for breakfast, the act of packing your kopi in a plastic bag to go, or even the tragic moment you bust your hand in a game of blackjack. Essentially, if you are wrapping something up, containing it, or taking it to go, you are 'bao-ing' it.

This is your go-to thin rice noodle, the absolute king of breakfast at the hawker centre. Whether you're tossing it with just some light soy sauce, chili, and a fried egg, or loading it up with luncheon meat and fishcake, it’s the ultimate comfort food that never lets you down.

The secret weapon behind almost every good local dish, this is a pungent, pungent block of fermented shrimp paste that hits you like a freight train before settling into pure umami gold. You don't eat it raw—you toast it or stir-fry it into sambal, and honestly, if your kitchen doesn't smell like belacan, are you even cooking Singaporean food?

To order your food for takeaway instead of eating at the hawker centre. It’s the standard move when the place is too crowded or when you’re just too 'lepak' to leave the house.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam lunch rush. It's an economy rice feast where you point at trays of home-style dishes behind a glass counter, and the auntie piles them onto your steamed rice with zero hesitation.

Don't go looking for orange shavings or cream cheese frosting here. This is our legendary hawker breakfast of stir-fried radish cubes (chai tow kway) tossed with egg, garlic, preserved radish (chai poh), and sometimes a hit of spicy sambal.

The ultimate hawker breakfast staple, this is essentially cubes of steamed radish cake stir-fried with eggs, garlic, and preserved radish (chai poh). You order it either 'black' with sweet dark soy sauce or 'white' for the crispy, original eggy version.

It works two ways: either as the tasty gravy or sauces you douse your rice in, or as a way to tell someone to buzz off when they're being too nosy. If someone is trying to poke their nose into your business, you tell them, 'Don't chap lah!'—meaning don't interfere or don't bother.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam, this is economy rice where you point at trays of food and pray the auntie gives you a good portion of meat. It’s the ultimate Singaporean comfort meal—warm, messy, and you get to decide exactly how much curry gravy drowns your plate.

The ultimate hawker king of stir-fried noodles, tossed in a hot wok until it carries that smoky, charred 'wok hei' aroma. It’s a decadent mess of flat rice noodles, prawns, cockles, lap cheong, and crispy lard bits that tastes like a clogged artery but sends you straight to food heaven.

This is that glorious, sticky-sweet slab of barbecued pork you see hanging in the window of every decent hawker stall. It’s got that signature red glaze, just the right amount of char around the edges, and it’s basically the soulmate of a bowl of wonton mee or a steaming plate of chicken rice.

The undisputed heavyweight champion of the dim sum trolley. It’s a pillowy-soft steamed bun hiding a sweet, savory, and sticky treasure of Cantonese-style barbecued pork inside.

The ultimate hawker comfort food: succulent, honey-glazed barbecued pork slices served over fluffy white rice and drizzled with a thick, savory-sweet dark sauce. It's the kind of meal that hits the spot when you're hungry, tired, or just need a taste of home after a long day.

The ultimate cooling solution for a humid Singapore afternoon. It’s a mountain of shaved ice drenched in rich coconut milk and dark, smoky gula melaka syrup, hiding treasures like green pandan jelly 'worms' and sweet red beans. If you're feeling fancy, top it with durian to really level up your makan game.

The ultimate cooling champion of the dessert world. It’s a sweet, herbal-infused soup filled with treasures like longan, lotus seeds, and white fungus that makes you feel like your body temp just dropped ten degrees after a hot day.

The undisputed king of Singaporean hawker food. It is poached chicken served with fragrant, oily rice cooked in stock, accompanied by fiery chilli sauce and ginger paste. If you tell a local the rice isn't the most important part of the plate, prepare for an argument.

The undisputed heavyweight champion of Singaporean seafood. It’s a messy, glorious heap of mud crab smothered in a thick, sweet, and spicy tomato-based sauce that you absolutely have to mop up with golden, deep-fried mantou buns.

A tiny, unassuming little green or red pepper that packs enough heat to make even the toughest uncle sweat. We also use it to describe someone small in build but feisty enough to punch way above their weight class.

A humble but heavenly breakfast staple consisting of soft, steamed rice cakes topped with a generous pile of salty-sweet preserved radish (chye por) and a dollop of fiery chilli. It’s the ultimate comfort food for that slippery, melt-in-your-mouth texture that pairs perfectly with a morning cup of kopi.

The ultimate breakfast MVP that smells like a dream and hits like a caffeine kick. It’s got a crispy, sweet coffee-infused crust on top, hides a sneaky nugget of salted butter in the middle, and keeps the bread pillowy soft inside.

The heart and soul of the neighbourhood, this is a semi-open-air food centre where you find hawker stalls serving everything from chicken rice to wanton mee. It’s the default gathering spot where uncle is reading his paper, students are hogging tables to study, and everyone is bonding over a cup of kopi-o.

In Singapore, this isn't just about the weather; it's a TCM-inspired mindset. When you've been eating too much durian or deep-fried chicken, your body is 'heaty,' and you need something like herbal tea or shaved ice to bring your core temperature back down to level.

The ultimate golden, deep-fried treasure of Singaporean snacking. It’s a flaky, buttery shell packed with a savoury, spicy potato filling—and if you’re lucky, a slice of hard-boiled egg for that extra 'shiok' factor.

The essential act of telling the hawker, 'I want to eat but not here.' Whether you're rushing back to the office or just want your char kway teow in the comfort of your own bed, this is your go-to word for anything packed to-go.

A dramatic way to say you absolutely have to experience something, usually food, because it’s just that good. It implies that if you don't try it, you might as well kick the bucket because your life is incomplete.

The King of Fruits, notorious for its intimidating thorny armor and a pong so powerful it’s literally banned on the MRT. Love it or hate it, the creamy, bittersweet custard inside is a religious experience for us locals.

The ultimate comfort food of the working man. Imagine a giant counter full of metal trays piled with everything from crispy fried fish to stir-fried greens, and you point at what you want to be heaped onto a mountain of white rice. It’s called 'economy' because if you pick correctly—usually just veggies and egg—it’s the cheapest, most satisfying meal you can get in the HDB void deck.

The ultimate breakfast fuel for the soul. This is a humble staple of springy egg noodles tossed in a tangy, spicy, or savoury sauce—or served in a clear, comforting soup—topped with bouncy fishballs and sliced fishcake. It's the dish that proves you don't need fancy plating to be delicious.

Technically, it means to fry something up in a pan, like your favourite mee goreng. Figuratively, it’s when someone gets a massive roasting or ear-bashing from their boss or parents, where they get 'fried' until they are crispy.

The undisputed king of the dim sum trolley, these are delicate, steamed prawn dumplings with a translucent, pleated skin. If the skin isn't thin and chewy enough to show off the pink prawn inside, uncle won't be happy. It’s the first thing you grab when the auntie rolls the bamboo steamer cart past your table.

A hawker is the ultimate local food hero, holding down the fort at a stall in a hawker centre while serving up legendary plates of chicken rice or char kway teow. It isn’t just about the food; these masters of the wok are the backbone of our culture, working long hours to keep us fed without burning a hole in our pockets.

The undisputed heartbeat of Singaporean life, this is where you go to find the best local food without burning a hole in your pocket. It’s a massive, open-air or sheltered communal dining hall where you grab a table by 'chope-ing' it with a packet of tissues, then hunt down your favourite cai png or chicken rice. It’s noisy, it’s humid, and it’s the only place where millionaires and construction workers stand in the same queue for $4 noodles.

The holy grail of Singaporean dining; a small, open-air booth where the real culinary magic happens. It’s where you go to find the best plate of chicken rice or laksa, served fast and without the fancy tablecloths.

The ultimate Singaporean diagnosis for every ailment from a sore throat to a pimple. It describes a 'warm' state inside your body caused by eating too much fried food, durian, or chips, and is the reason your mum will force you to drink herbal tea or coconut water.

The ultimate hawker comfort food, defined by a glorious mess of yellow noodles and bee hoon braised in a rich, velvety prawn-stock reduction. It’s smoky from the wok hei, packed with squid and prawns, and absolutely ruined if you forget to squeeze the calamansi lime over it before digging in.

A glorious plate of flat, slippery rice noodles drenched in a silky, eggy, savoury gravy. It’s the ultimate comfort food at the hawker centre, especially if the chef managed to capture that elusive 'wok hei'—that smoky, charred flavour from a super-hot stove.

A fluffy, steamed cake that looks like it’s smiling back at you because the top is split open like a blooming flower. Because it looks like it's 'rising' or 'prospering', we love eating it during Chinese New Year or offering it to the gods to ask for some massive 'huat' (prosperity) in our lives.

The ultimate Singaporean heat-beater. It is a colourful mountain of shaved ice buried under a treasure chest of red beans, grass jelly, and attap chee, all drizzled with neon-bright syrups and condensed milk. Truly the king of desserts when the afternoon sun is trying its best to melt your brain.

The crispy, salty anchovy that is the secret soul of a good nasi lemak or a hearty bowl of noodles. When you're feeling a bit cheeky, it’s also used to describe a small-time nobody or a 'little fish' who really shouldn't be making so much noise.

The essential, all-purpose way to say 'eat' in Singapore. Whether you're inviting the whole table to tuck into a feast or just checking if your buddy has grabbed lunch, this word does the heavy lifting. It’s polite, direct, and basically the primary unit of social interaction here: if you're not 'jiak-ing', you're probably talking about where to 'jiak' next.

The most important phrase in a Singaporean's vocabulary, literally meaning 'eat rice' but used to cover any meal at all. It’s the universal way to ask someone if they've eaten yet, or to announce that it's time to hit the hawker centre.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam vegetable scene, better known to the rest of the world as water spinach. It's usually stir-fried with a fiery dollop of spicy sambal belacan, making it the perfect crunchy companion to a plate of nasi lemak or rice.

The undisputed king of the Singapore breakfast table, this is a smooth, sweet spread crafted from coconut milk, eggs, and pandan leaves. Slather it thick on buttered charcoal-toasted bread and you've got yourself the ultimate kopi companion.

The undisputed king of the Singaporean breakfast table. It’s toasted bread slathered with a rich, silky coconut-egg jam called kaya and thick slabs of cold butter, usually served with a side of runny soft-boiled eggs and a robust kopi. You haven’t truly started your morning until you’ve dunked a piece into your coffee.

These are crunchy, deep-fried crackers that are basically the life of any Singaporean party. Whether it’s the fish or prawn kind, they’re the perfect snack to munch on while waiting for your main course at the hawker centre, and they always hit the spot with a little sambal belacan.

To pinch, clamp, or hold something tight between two surfaces, like using a pair of tongs or a hair clip. It also describes that sharp, clacking sound when your tongs snap shut or when you finally snag that last piece of meat from the steamboat pot.

It’s how we order coffee at the kopitiam, but it’s really a lifestyle. It’s typically strong, dark, Nanyang-style Robusta coffee roasted with butter or margarine, served with condensed milk by default; if you just say 'kopi', that’s what you’re getting, and it hits the spot every single time.

The ultimate solution to Singapore's eternal sunshine, this is local coffee brewed strong with condensed milk and served over a mountain of ice. Best enjoyed in a plastic bag tied with a red string while walking down a humid street.

This is your go-to cup of coffee when you want that rich, creamy kick without the sugar-overload of condensed milk. Kopi C uses evaporated milk instead, giving it a smoother, slightly less sweet profile that still packs a punch.

This is coffee with a serious personality—thick, rich, and strong enough to wake the dead. It’s for when you’ve had a long night and a regular brew just isn't going to cut it, so the uncle keeps the water to a minimum and lets the coffee powder do all the heavy lifting.

This is your straight-up black coffee, no sugar and no milk allowed. You order this when you want to taste pure caffeine without the sweet, creamy fluff, or when you’re watching your sugar levels like a hawk.

The classic, no-nonsense fuel of the Singaporean workforce. It’s hot, black coffee brewed with just enough sugar to keep you going, but completely sans the heavy, milky sweetness of a kopi susu or kopi C.

This is the true test of a coffee drinker in Singapore. It is black coffee served exactly as the gods intended—no sugar, no milk, no nonsense. It’s bitter, it’s strong, and it’ll wake you up faster than a lecture from your mum.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam. It’s strong, robust Nanyang-style coffee mixed with condensed milk and served over a mountain of ice to save you from the midday Singapore humidity.

The go-to order for the health-conscious Singaporean who still needs their morning caffeine kick. It’s a standard local coffee where you politely ask the uncle to ease up on the condensed milk, giving you a brew that’s less cloyingly sweet and a bit more bitter-strong.

This is your regular local coffee, but leveled up with condensed milk and a bit of theatrics. The uncle at the kopitiam stretches the liquid between two metal mugs from a distance, creating a silky, frothy top that makes it taste way smoother than if it were just stirred with a spoon.

The ultimate breakfast gospel. It refers to the quintessential pairing of a cup of traditional Nanyang-style coffee and a serving of crispy kaya toast, usually with a side of soft-boiled eggs for maximum dip-ability.

The heart and soul of the neighbourhood, this is your local open-air coffee shop where you get your morning kaya toast, kopi, and a side of gossip. Think of it as the ultimate community living room—shady, breezy, and the only place where it’s totally acceptable to sweat while eating piping hot noodles.

The ultimate minimalist choice. When you order your drinks or prata 'kosong', you're telling the uncle to keep it plain—no sugar, no fancy toppings, just the basics. It’s what you say when you’re watching your health or just appreciate things in their purest, unadulterated form.

The liquid soul of your meal—whether it’s the thick, nutty joy splashed over your satay or the spicy splash of curry on your rice. In Singapore, a dish without kuah is just dry, sad food waiting for a personality.

The glorious foundation of our national obsession, Hainanese chicken rice. It refers specifically to the fragrant, oily rice cooked with chicken stock, ginger, and pandan that tastes so good you can eat it on its own without the bird.

These are bite-sized traditional treats that come in every colour of the rainbow, usually made from rice flour, coconut milk, or tapioca. Whether they're steamed, sticky, savoury, or sweet, they are the undisputed kings of the afternoon tea break, best enjoyed with a strong cup of kopi.

A pillowy, bite-sized steamed rice cake that hits the spot when you crave something light and sweet. It’s usually filled with either sugary grated coconut or crushed peanuts and comes sitting on a tiny piece of pandan leaf to keep it from sticking to the plate.

A hearty Teochew classic featuring silky, broad flat rice noodles swimming in a dark, herbal braised soy broth. It’s usually served on a separate platter with a smorgasbord of braised pork belly, pig intestines, tau kwa, and hard-boiled eggs that you dip into a kicky, garlicky chilli sauce.

These are the slippery, flat rice noodles that are the backbone of our hawker culture. You’ll usually find them stir-fried with dark soy sauce, cockles, and lard bits in the legendary char kway teow, though they’re just as good in a light, comforting broth if you’re feeling under the weather.

The undisputed king of hawker centre comfort food, this is a rich, spicy coconut milk broth loaded with thick rice noodles, cockles, fishcake, and tau pok. One bite of that lemak, spicy gravy and you'll understand why our cholesterol levels are high but our hearts are full.

The undisputed king of hawker centre comfort food, this is a rich, spicy coconut milk broth loaded with thick rice noodles, cockles, fishcake, and tau pok. One bite of that lemak, spicy gravy and you'll understand why our cholesterol levels are high but our hearts are full.

Commonly used as a rather crude way to mean 'to heap' or 'to slather' something, like when you lam too much sambal on your bee hoon. It can also be used as a vulgar intensifier, much like adding an f-bomb to express extreme disbelief or anger.

This is that urgent, cold-sweat-inducing situation where your digestive system decides it cannot wait another second. Usually happens after you eat something 'sus' at a dodgy hawker stall or when you try to act tough with the extra-spicy sambal.

The exact feeling you get when you’ve been walking around Orchard Road for two hours and realize you haven't had lunch yet. It’s that deep, rumbling hunger that makes you drop everything just to chase down the nearest chicken rice stall.

Technically, it means 'fatty' or 'rich,' but in our culinary parlance, it refers to that heavenly, creamy goodness you get from coconut milk. When a dish is 'lemak,' it has that velvety, indulgent soul that makes your heart skip a beat and your cholesterol levels spike in the happiest way possible. Think of the decadent gravy in laksa or the richness of good nasi lemak rice.

The highlight of every Chinese New Year reunion lunch, where everyone stands up to toss a giant platter of yusheng as high as they can with chopsticks. It’s a loud, messy, and super auspicious affair because the higher you toss, the more 'huat' (prosperity) you get for the coming year.

The golden word for all things food-related—whether you're grabbing a quick prata at 2 AM or having a proper feast. It's so versatile it doubles as a verb for eating and a noun for the meal itself, basically the heartbeat of a Singaporean's social life.

The reason why your tongue feels like you’ve licked an electrical socket but you keep going back for more. It’s that addictive, tongue-numbing Szechuan spice that turned Singapore’s food scene into a sweat-fest, perfect for when you want to punish your stomach because the soul needs a thrill.

Technically, it means your maternal uncle in Malay, but in Singapore, it refers to the legendary late-night spot where you grab roti prata and teh tarik. It’s also our go-to way to respectfully address the friendly uncle running the shop. If you’re hungry at 3 AM, the mamak stall is where you’ll find the entire country chilling.

The ultimate late-night sanctuary where you go to satisfy your prata and teh tarik cravings when the rest of the world is asleep. It's not just a place to eat; it's the unofficial community hall for football fans and students pulling all-nighters.

The go-to term for noodles in Singapore. If you see a menu with 'mee' in the name, you're usually looking at yellow, wheat-based egg noodles with that signature alkaline springiness, but honestly, we use it as a catch-all term for most noodle varieties too.

The ultimate late-night saviour. It is a plate of yellow noodles wok-fired by your favourite mamak uncle with a kick of spices, sambal, and just enough tomato ketchup to make it sweet-savoury perfection. It's not just a dish; it's the greasy, spicy hug you need after a long night out.

The undisputed king of hawker noodles. It's a flat, chewy, yellow wheat noodle that catches all the spicy, vinegary sauce perfection in its nooks and crannies. When you order 'mee pok', you're usually getting a bowl of dry-tossed deliciousness topped with minced pork, fishballs, and a kick of chili.

A classic hawker favourite featuring thin rice vermicelli soaked in a spicy, tangy, and slightly sweet gravy made from tamarind paste. It’s almost always served with a squeeze of calamansi lime, a wedge of hard-boiled egg, and some crunchy tau pok to soak up all that flavourful broth.

A famous order for noodle soup, made legendary by a blooper from late Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew—actually, it was his son, PM Lee Hsien Loong—who confidently ordered 'Mee Siam mai hum' at a grassroots event. The punchline is that Mee Siam is a Thai-inspired vegetarian-ish noodle dish that never comes with cockles (hum) anyway, making the specific instruction hilariously unnecessary.

A glorious, sugar-loaded upgrade to your standard iced Milo, topped with a generous, heaping mound of undissolved Milo powder. It's essentially a dessert in a glass, beloved by kids and the young-at-heart who aren't afraid of a serious chocolatey crunch.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam breakfast crawl, this is a thick, chewy pancake folded over a generous heap of crushed peanuts, sugar, and sometimes red bean. It’s got that perfect balance—crispy at the edges and pillowy soft in the middle—that makes it the ultimate nostalgic comfort food.

The ultimate lunch-time gamble. It’s when you point at a spread of dishes behind a glass counter, and the uncle scoops them onto a mountain of white rice for a price that usually makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam lunch rush. It's that humble buffet-style counter where you point at trays of food behind glass, and the uncle or auntie drowns your rice in just the right amount of curry or lor bak gravy.

The absolute building block of life for us. It just means 'cooked rice', but in reality, it's the anchor of every meal that keeps our soul together after a long day.

The ultimate comfort food at the hawker centre, this is fried rice given a punchy Southeast Asian makeover. Expect your grains to be tossed in a wok with spicy sambal, kecap manis, and enough wok hei to make you order a second plate.

The undisputed king of local comfort food—fragrant rice steamed in coconut milk and pandan leaves, served with crispy ikan bilis, peanuts, egg, and spicy sambal. It’s what you grab at the hawker centre when you need a hug in a packet, especially when it's wrapped in a banana leaf that keeps it warm and gives it that secret herbal aroma.

The ultimate lunch-time feast where you point at a glass display and build a mountain of spicy goodness on your plate. It’s an Indonesian-Minangkabau style of serving rice accompanied by an array of slow-cooked curries, fried chicken, and sambal that will test your tolerance for spice.

A sarcastic way to tell someone they have zero energy or are acting like they're about to faint. It's the classic 'you look like you haven't eaten in three days' joke, usually aimed at friends who are being overly dramatic or lazy.

This is what you say when you have to settle for something because your first choice is gone. It is the Singaporean version of 'beggars can't be choosers'—if you can't get the fresh catch, you just take whatever is available.

Describes something or someone that is totally subpar, pathetic, or just plain embarrassing. If your friend brings you to a food court and the chicken rice is dry and sad, you look at him and say, 'Wah, this one really no standard lah.'

A Nyonya is a lady of Peranakan descent, part of the unique Straits-born Chinese culture that blends Chinese heritage with Malay and Indonesian traditions. It’s also used as a respectful title for an older Peranakan woman, or to describe anything related to this vibrant culture—especially their incredible, complex, and super-spicy heirloom cooking.

A little green orb of joy that’s basically a flavour grenade. You pop the whole thing in your mouth, bite down, and bam—the liquid gula melaka explodes inside while the chewy pandan skin and salty grated coconut do a dance on your tongue.

The ultimate hawker centre dish: a gooey, crispy, egg-laden mess loaded with fat, juicy oysters. It is the perfect marriage of starch and seafood, best paired with a punchy chilli sauce that cuts right through the grease.

The ultimate old-school Teochew dessert: a smooth, velvety mash of taro (yam) sweetened and usually cooked with lard or oil to give it that signature glossy shine. It’s often served warm with a scoop of gingko nuts, and it’s the kind of comfort food that sits heavy in your tummy in the best way possible.

The undisputed king of Southeast Asian herbs, known as the 'vanilla of the East.' It’s that bright green, fragrant leaf you find tied into knots for cooking rice or blitzed into cakes to get that iconic, grassy-sweet flavour everyone loves.

This is the supermodel of the roti prata world: thin, crispy, and unnecessarily dramatic. It’s stretched until it’s almost transparent, fried to a golden crunch, and usually served standing up like a giant paper cone.

The ultimate roving street carnival. It’s a temporary pop-up bazaar that moves from neighbourhood to neighbourhood, bringing with it the glorious scent of Ramly burgers, sweet potato balls, and cheap phone covers you didn't know you needed.

Think of it as the ultimate healthy-but-sedap wrap. It’s a soft, thin flour skin packed tight with stewed jicama, crunchy peanuts, and all the good stuff, usually finished with a hit of sweet sauce and spicy chilli that leaves you wanting another.

Technically, it means to cut, but we use it for anything from slicing a cake to short-changing someone. If you hear someone say 'potong steam' or encounter those colourful 'potong' ice-cream blocks on a stick, you're experiencing the classic Singaporean way of getting a quick slice of happiness.

The crispy, chewy, layered Indian flatbread that is essentially Singapore's national comfort food. It’s the ultimate zero-frills meal—best eaten at 3 AM with a side of curry and your hands, then washed down with a glass of teh tarik.

The ultimate hawker comfort food, consisting of yellow noodles soaked in a robust, umami-packed broth brewed from hours of simmering prawn heads and shells. It usually comes with succulent prawns and tender pork ribs, served either in that glorious soup or tossed in a spicy, dark soy-based sauce.

This is the king of hawker soups, featuring an intense, umami-packed broth boiled down from heaps of prawn shells and heads. It's usually served with yellow noodles or bee hoon, topped with succulent prawns and tender pork ribs that make you want to slurp until the bowl is bone dry.

The go-to term for the Muslim festive seasons, referring specifically to Hari Raya Puasa or Hari Raya Haji. It’s a time for balik kampung vibes, visiting relatives, looking sharp in your traditional baju kurung, and eating rendang until you cannot stand up.

Think of this as the heavy-weight champion of Malay cuisine—a rich, tender beef stew slow-cooked for hours in coconut milk and a secret library of spices. It’s not your average 'curry' because the sauce is reduced until it's thick, dark, and packed with so much flavour it makes your ancestors smile.

Technically, it’s a legendary local salad with all sorts of crunch and spice, but we use this word for any situation that feels like a mish-mash. If your meeting agenda is all over the place or your friend group is a total mix of personalities, that's rojak. It’s a beautiful hotpot of stuff that shouldn't go together but somehow works.

Technically refers to bread, but in our neck of the woods, it’s the king of carbs found at the mamak stall. Whether it’s fluffy prata, crispy tissue, or filled with egg and onion, it’s the ultimate comfort food for breakfast or 3 AM supper.

The undisputed king of supper—a crispy, buttery, doughy flatbread that’s satisfyingly chewy and best enjoyed with a side of spicy fish or mutton curry. Whether you take it plain, with egg, or smothered in sugar, it’s the ultimate comfort food for that 2 AM hunger pang.

The life of the party at any meal, this is a spicy, punchy relish made from pounded chillies, belacan, and aromatics. If your nasi lemak or stingray doesn't have a big scoop of this, honestly, why even bother eating?

The undisputed king of condiments, this fiery chilli paste made from pounded chillies and pungent fermented shrimp paste is the soul of any proper Malay or Peranakan meal. Don't be fooled by the scary aroma—it adds that essential kick that makes your hawker centre lunch sing. If your face doesn't turn slightly red after a dollop, you're not doing it right.

The ultimate comfort food: chunks of marinated meat skewered, charred over a roaring charcoal fire until smoky, and served with a rich, spicy peanut gravy. You haven't really lived until you've dunked a cube of compressed rice into that nutty sauce and popped it in your mouth while the smoke is still swirling around your head.

The gold standard for anything delicious in Singapore. You use this when that first bite of hawker food hits the spot and you just have to close your eyes and nod in approval.

The ultimate seal of approval for anything that feels, tastes, or hits exactly right. Whether it’s that first sip of cold kopi on a sweltering day or the perfect spicy kick from a bowl of laksa, if it makes you say 'ahhh' with your eyes closed, it's definitely shiok.

This is your go-to phrase when things go past your limit, whether it’s the insane heat at noon, a colleague's nonsense, or a spicy sambal that is burning your soul. It’s the universal Singaporean way of saying, 'I literally cannot deal with this anymore.'

The ultimate kopitiam essential: strong, earthy black tea brewed with condensed milk and evaporated milk, then dumped over a mountain of crushed ice. It’s what you order when the Singapore humidity is trying to turn you into a puddle and you need a sweet, creamy hit of caffeine to survive the afternoon.

The refined cousin of the standard teh. It’s tea mixed with evaporated milk and sugar instead of the thick, syrupy condensed milk, giving it a creamier, less sweet, and slightly more 'atas' texture that doesn't overwhelm the tea flavour.

This is tea that's been brewed with a serious attitude. It’s extra thickened and concentrated, perfect when you need that extra caffeine kick to clear the cobwebs from your brain or survive a long afternoon in the office.

The go-to drink for the health-conscious or those who just prefer the true, slightly astringent punch of the tea leaves. It’s tea brewed the traditional way, but stripped of all the condensed milk and sugar that usually gives our local kopi its signature sweetness.

This is your plain, no-nonsense black tea with sugar, but hold the milk. It’s the go-to drink when you want that caffeine kick without the weight of condensed or evaporated milk clogging up your palate.

The ultimate order for the health-conscious or those who just want their caffeine straight up. It's a robust cup of black tea served without any milk or sugar, perfect for cutting through the richness of a plate of nasi lemak.

The ultimate solution to Singapore’s eternal summer. It’s our local black tea brewed strong, mixed with thick evaporated milk, and poured over a mountain of ice to keep you cool while you battle the humidity.

The undisputed king of the kopitiam, this is strong black tea mixed with condensed milk, then 'pulled' back and forth between two metal jugs to get that signature frothy, velvety top. It’s not just a drink; it’s an art form served piping hot, and when it’s done right, the foam is so thick you can practically rest a spoon on it.

Think of this as the original, eco-friendly bento box from the olden days. It’s a stacked metal container used to carry separate dishes, but these days, we also use it to refer to a meal subscription service where home-cooked food is delivered to your doorstep.

A super thin, crispy version of the classic prata that's stretched until it's practically translucent before being fried. It’s shaped into a towering cone and usually dusted with sugar, making it more like a crunchy, sweet dessert than a heavy meal.

This is essentially the OG jungle supplement that local uncles swear by for an extra boost in their step—and their love life. It’s a bitter root turned into tonic, tea, or supplement, famous for making you feel like you've still got the energy of a twenty-year-old.

That legendary 'breath of the wok' you only get when a hawker boss fires up the stove until it’s screaming hot. It’s that smoky, charred flavour that haunts your dreams and makes a simple plate of char kway teow taste like magic.

The ultimate 'choose-your-own-adventure' lunch, where you pick processed fish-paste stuffed veggies, tofu, and fried bits from a display case. You tell the uncle if you want it served in a comforting clear soup or doused in savory thick sauce, usually with a side of chili and sweet bean sauce to kick things up a notch.

The crispy, golden-brown king of the breakfast table. It’s a long, deep-fried dough snack that’s crunchy on the outside, airy and chewy on the inside, and perfect for dunking into your hot kopi or soy milk.

A vibrant, colourful Chinese New Year salad that signals it's time to get lucky. We gather around the table and use our chopsticks to toss the ingredients as high as possible while shouting auspicious wishes, because the higher you toss, the better your wealth and success for the coming year.

The ultimate comfort setting for a big family dinner or a rowdy night out with friends. It’s basically a menu of stir-fried greatness—think crispy pork ribs, sambal kangkong, and those legendary claypot tofu dishes—served family-style at a hawker centre or neighborhood shop house.