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Independent Singapore

Asia's kitchen queens: How 5 women shaped a region's taste

ASIA: They're not on billboards or launching exclusive spice lines. They seldom talk of 'plating' or use words like 'gastrique,' but all over Asia, a noiseless, more luscious gastronomic heritage is being well-kept by women who mix, fry, wrap, and serve with inborn insight and unrivalled passion. Meet the 'culinary aunties' of Asia, the custodians of tradition who mould the region's sense of taste not from test pantries, but from generations-old formulae and fire-seasoned pots and pans. While superstar chefs surf the trend of Instagram recognition and tasting menu theatrics, these women are totally something else—caretakers of culture, reminiscence, and a kind of instinctive cookery that can't be imparted in gastronomic institutes. Their pantries—be they modest market kiosks, shophouses, or wayside wagons—aren't just where food is made. They're where individuality is kept thriving, memories become alive, one dish at a time. In a recent article published by Tatler Asia, five legendary aunties were featured and honoured, each a master of her craft. Stars or streams don't gauge their bequests, but by the generations of patrons who come and return, over and over again, for a taste of something authentic and gastronomically delightful. Jay Fai (Bangkok, Thailand) She may be the most familiar on the list, because of a Michelin star and an unforgettable turn on Netflix, but Jay Fai remains ferociously old-school. Supinya Junsuta, more popular by her street name Jay Fai, runs her namesake kiosk in Bangkok, donning her signature ski goggles, an affirmation of her intense passion and her refusal to sabotage her craft. A dressmaker once, she turned to cooking in her 30s and became a street food fable from there on. Her crab omelette, teeming with sweet meat and caressed by charcoal smoke, has gotten her fans from Hollywood to K-pop, but she still works the skillet herself, every day. Now, more than 80 years old, Jay Fai isn't about to touch the brakes. She's enriched street food, not by making it swankier, but by proving its potential when cooked right. Gaik Lean Beh (Penang, Malaysia) In Penang, where food is religion, Auntie Gaik Lean is like a high priestess of Peranakan cooking. At her bistro, Auntie Gaik Lean's Old School Eatery, she cooks like she always has—with veneration, fortitude, and a spice rack filled with mysteries. Her dishes, like Nyonya gulai tumis or assam hae, are no ordinary meals; they're appetising treasures. Made from methods and recipes passed down through generations, they showcase the depth and intensity of a gastronomic tradition that combines Chinese and Malay inspiration. Her Michelin star is well-deserved, but for her faithful customers, it only confirms what they've always known—Auntie Gaik Lean cooks with emotion, tradition, and the kind of meticulousness you can't do in haste. Mdm Leong Yuet Meng (Singapore) Before Singapore became a dining destination speckled with Michelin stalls and fine-dining trialling, there was Koka Wanton Noodle, and behind it, the unconquerable Mdm Leong Yuet Meng. She began building her reputation in 1957, one bowl at a time. Her wanton mee stood out for its subtle, almost whisper-light paste, and because everything, from the bouncy egg noodles to the mellifluous dumplings, was made by hand. She passed away in early 2024 at the age of 94, but her legacy lives on through her grandson, who now manages the stand. In an age where everything is done quickly, Mdm Leong's story is a quiet reminder—some things are worth taking the time for. Cho Yon-soon (Seoul, South Korea) In the perky labyrinth of Seoul's Gwangjang Market, Cho Yon-soon is known simply as 'Grandma Jo.' Her kiosk, Gohyang Kalguksu, doesn't appear much, but it's where comfort food dreams are appreciated daily in the form of hand-cut noodles and kimchi mandu. Cho began cooking out of necessity, turning her mother's formulas into a full-scale culinary vocation after her husband fell into heavy debts. However, what began as survival became something more noble. Although highlighted on Netflix and adored by locals, Grandma Jo never raced for fame or fortune. She remains the chef for her regulars, crafting every bowl with the same attention and expertise that earned her success. See also OpEd: Good prospects for tourism industry in ASEAN Mbah Satinem (Yogyakarta, Indonesia) Every morning in Yogyakarta, long before daybreak, Mbah Satinem starts concocting the sweets that have made her a national gem. Her signature dish is jajan pasar, a traditional market cake that conjures childhood recollections for countless Indonesians. Her most well-known treat, lupis, is a sticky rice delight sprinkled with palm sugar, maple syrup, and grated coconut. Notwithstanding the international attention courtesy of 'Street Food: Asia,' nothing changed. She still peddles from the same pavement spot. The only thing that has changed is the length of the line of people waiting to buy her delicacy. For her, cooking is not about innovation; it's about endurance and continuity. A way to honour the past while sweetening the present and future. A different kind of fame The gastronomic aunties of Asia don't cook for social media likes or critics' forums. They cook because it's in their bones and they love doing it. They may not possess empires or use chefs' knives on TV, but they shape the tastes and appetites of nations. And in a world continually famished for what's next, their continuing presence reminds us of the beauty of what's always been there for years.