By Evan Wyno
In the midst of Singapore, that sprawling labyrinth of sounds and colors, where the very air seems to pulse with life, there I was — a young boy from America, adrift in a sea of unfamiliarity. The towering skyscrapers of glass and steel, the babel of tongues, the myriad faces passing by in a blur, and yet, in this overwhelming tapestry, a singular aroma beckoned: Hainanese Chicken Rice, a simple poached chicken dish with flavorful rice. No, not the flavors of my homeland, America, but a new sensation, a new anchor.
Across our globally connected world, amidst the ebb and flow of life, there are these constants, these dishes, these memories. They do not just satiate our hunger; they feed our souls, connecting us to places, moments and emotions. The universal symphony of comfort food plays its timeless tune in the heart of every person.
Moving from the United States to Singapore at the age of 11 presented a world that was both new and unsettling. My father had accepted a new job and my mother, a Singaporean by birth, became our gentle navigator through this transition, her eyes reflecting a blend of returning joy, and a soft understanding of the silent upheavals within me.
Memories of my grandparents, in a kitchen filled with the warm, inviting aroma of cooking, carefully preparing Hainanese Chicken Rice every weekend, became a quiet refuge amidst my internal storms. Their home, always alive with the cheerful chatter of relatives, was a place where love was expressed through generous servings of this Hainanese delight. However, it wasn’t until my arrival in Singapore, amidst this period of personal transformation, that I truly connected with Hainanese Chicken Rice. This dish, once a mere background element of my childhood, now took on a profound significance. It was in this rediscovery, in the heart of my mother’s homeland, that Hainanese Chicken Rice transformed from a familiar taste to an anchor, linking me to my roots in a time of change.
When the Hainanese community, originating from the serene landscapes of Hainan, China, began to set foot on the shores of Southeast Asia in the 19th and early 20th centuries, they brought with them not just aspirations for a new life but also a culinary legacy called Wenchang Chicken, that would weave through the tapestry of Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, and Vietnam’s rich gastronomic scene.
In Singapore, it found a new home, becoming not just a meal but a national dish, a tangible connection to heritage, lineage and familial bonds. “It’s like a taste that you can remember that is from home and it’s not just reminding us of our Chinese roots but it’s so ingrained into Singaporean culture and something we are proud of,” explains Micah Chow, an international student from Singapore at the University of Southern California.
The dish, while maintaining its core essence of chicken, rice and soup, embraced local touches fromdialect groups, such as the use of pandan leaves (an aromatic tropical plant prized for its unique and fragrant leaves) to enhance the fragrance of the rice, becoming a melody that resonated with both tradition and innovation. The choice of chicken too speaks of a subtle culinary dialogue between the Hainanese and Cantonese, opting for the poached tender, young poultry over the traditional, more muscular Wenchang chicken of Hainan. The roasted version of the dish tells a different tale. The chicken, seasoned with the boldness of black pepper and salt, is left to dry before being enveloped by the intense heat of the deep fryer, emerging with a skin that is both crisp and aromatic.
(Photo courtesy of https://curatedkitchenware.com/)
(Photo courtesy of http://www.singaporelocalfavourites.com.)
I remember in the cozy, fragrant confines of my grandmother’s kitchen, the preparation of Hainanese Chicken Rice was not merely a culinary endeavor, but a meticulous, loving ritual. She would gently poach the chicken, its flesh soaking up the warmth of the boiling water, and then, it’s caressed by the coolness of room-temperature water, a pause, a gentle respite, before being allowed to drip dry, its flavors quietly intensifying beneath a protective towel. But here, in this seemingly straightforward process, her Cantonese influence subtly makes its presence known. The chicken, post-poaching, is introduced to iced water. I recall asking my grandmother, “Ah Mah (Grandma), why are you bathing the chicken?” Looking at me, she would grin and say that this is the secret to a soft, smooth and tender chicken. And it was in these moments, these culinary rituals, that my grandmother transformed her kitchen into a workshop of sorts, where my mother and her two younger sisters would gather, absorbing not just the techniques but also the silent, affectionate narratives embedded within each step, each ingredient, becoming the next bearers of a culinary tradition, a timeless, flavorful legacy.
And then, there’s the rice – a star in its own right. My grandmother fries the rice in chicken fat, absorbing the robust flavors, before being cooked in a broth that’s been kissed by the essence of chicken, ginger, garlic and pandan leaves, emerging not just as a side but as a culinary experience that stands tall beside the poultry. When served, the chicken rice is never alone. It’s accompanied by a retinue of flavors and textures which include a dark, sweet soya sauce, a handmade garlicky chili sauce, a ginger-scallion sauce, crisp cucumber slices and a soul-warming bowl of soup crafted from the chicken stock.
ginger-scallion, and chili)
In the intricate weave of memories and culinary experiences, Hainanese Chicken Rice has, over the years, quietly nestled itself as my sanctuary of comfort, a dish that not only tantalizes the taste buds but also gently cradles the soul in moments of solitude and reminiscence. It’s a phenomenon that, as explored in a Psychology Today article, underscores the profound, albeit often understated, psychological and emotional impact of comfort foods. These dishes, often intertwined with memories of warmth, connection and familial bonds, possess the subtle power to elevate our moods, to momentarily dissolve threads of loneliness, and to reconnect us with a tapestry of comforting yet distant memories.
For students traversing the landscapes of new environments, cultures and academic pressures, especially those adrift in the vast, often intimidating ocean of international studies, comfort foods, much like my cherished Hainanese Chicken Rice, become silent companions in their journey. They serve as unspoken yet profoundly tangible bridges to home, to Sunday family dinners, and to the gentle, reassuring warmth of familiar faces and spaces. It’s a universal dialogue, where the flavors of home, be it the savory depth of Hainanese Chicken Rice or the rich, hearty embrace of a homemade stew, become silent yet eloquent narratives, whispering tales of home, of love and a comforting constancy amidst the ebb and flow of new experiences and challenges.
In the sprawling, eclectic culinary landscape of Los Angeles, my quest for that comforting taste of Hainanese Chicken Rice became an unexpected journey into the heart of the city’s vibrant, diverse food scene. As a student navigating through the demanding rigor of academics and work, the kitchen often remained an uncharted territory, its potential for recreating the comforting flavors of home constrained by the ticking clock and my admittedly limited culinary skills. The craving, however, persisted, a gentle, constant tug toward the savory, aromatic memories of Singapore, and thus, the search began.
LA, with its countless eateries, each whispering tales of distant homelands through their flavors and aromas, offers a surprising array of Hainanese Chicken Rice choices from Cluck2Go, with its branches reaching into Pasadena, Rowland Heights and Arcadia, to the well-known Savoy Chicken in Alhambra, Side Chick in Arcadia and Hainan Brothers Chicken in the heart of LA. Some other restaurants worth trying include Maxwell Chicken Rice in Northridge, Pearl River Deli in Chinatown and Heng Heng Chicken Rice in Hollywood. Many patrons, much like myself, find a warming familiarity in savoring this dish.
Comfort food reviews for Los Angeles restaurants serving HCR. (Photo courtesy of Yelp)
Yet, it was in the unassuming, warm kitchen of Hoya Chicken Mama, nestled near the USC campus, that the quest found its end. Hoya Chicken Mama, a low-key, family-run business, is more than just an eatery. It became for me a window into the soulful, heartfelt preparation of Hainanese Chicken Rice, where each plate whispered of home, love and a gentle touch. Mei-Lin Wu, the “chicken mama,” and soul of Hoya Chicken Mama, with her insistence on using only special yellow skin chicken, crafted not just a dish but an experience that resonated with the comforting, familial embrace of Hainanese Chicken Rice. “My chicken needs to be fresh and of a certain breed,” Wu said. “The most important thing I want people to take away when eating my Hainanese Chicken Rice is that it’s made with care and love.” Her words echoed with a pride and commitment that transcends beyond the culinary.
Spending a day in her kitchen, amidst the harmony of aromas, flavors and the familial banter between Wu and her children, there was a silent, yet profound, recognition. Observing her hands, skillful and assured, maneuver through each step of the preparation, I was subtly, yet unmistakably, transported to the warm, fragrant kitchen of my grandmother in Singapore, where Hainanese Chicken Rice was not merely a dish but a cherished ritual, a silent thread that wove through our family gatherings. In Wu’s meticulous preparation of each order, and in her refined, yet deeply rooted connection to the dish, I found not just the flavors, but also the soul of Hainanese Chicken Rice, a reminder of home, of family and of the timeless, enduring embrace of comfort food.
Journeying from Hoya Chicken Mama’s kitchen to the heart of our family’s recipe.
My mother, having been a keen observer in my grandmother’s kitchen, became not just a recipient of a recipe, but a guardian of a culinary tale, one that whispered of weekends spent in devoted preparation of a dish that was so much more than a meal. It’s a narrative, a story told through flavors, aromas and the nurturing hands that crafted it.
And so, with a heart tender with memories and hands eager to learn, I find myself, through my mother’s interpretation of my grandmother’s teachings, an inheritor of this culinary legacy. It’s not merely about the preparation of a dish but becoming a link in a chain of culinary storytelling, carrying forward a tradition, a piece of a home that exists now in spaces, aromas and flavors, allowing me to savor my memories of Singapore and ensuring that this rich, flavorful narrative continues to simmer through generations to come.
Mother’s HCR family recipe
I invite you to pause for a moment and delve into your own flavorful tapestry to explore and share through this interactive poll: What is your cherished comfort food? Your answers, much like the comforting embrace of a familiar dish, are a journey, a connection, waiting to be shared, savored, and celebrated.