Hainanese Infatuation

I recently re-discovered a great food-love of mine. Kaya. That rich, highly aromatic jam of egg and coconut milk. It is aptly named, this jam. “Kaya” is Malay for “rich”.

This is probably the original South East Asian jam. It may sound surprising, but Asians don’t have a history or culture of fruit preserves. Sure, we preserve fruits. But usually only as dried or candied fruits. Not as preserves.

Kaya is what many Singaporeans and Malaysians grow up eating on their morning breakfast toast. Kaya toast is a near sacred institution in these two countries. (More on this in my next post.)

There are essentially two broad styles of kaya – Hainanese and Nonya. The former evolved from the Hainanese migrants who landed on our shores, many of whom ended up working as cooks in coffeeshops or in the homes of the colonial masters. The latter emerged from the kitchens of the very food-proud Straits Chinese or Peranakans. The basic ingredients and method of preparation for both are the same. Large amounts of eggs, coconut milk and sugar are slowly cooked down, in a double boiler, until it becomes a luscious, redolent, thick, smooth cream or paste. It is a laborious process. The mixture has to be constantly stirred. It involves standing at the stove, without moving away, for 2-3 hours, stirring continuously. It takes patience, dedication and yes, a lot of arm strength. It sounds terribly simple, but to get the jam to a smooth, non-lumpy texture, with a glistening sheen requires experience – quite a lot of experience, be it your own or that of the person who taught you how to make the kaya. And that was the way the very often closely guarded recipes were handed down, by word of mouth, from master to disciple. I remember when my mum was trying to pick up tips on kaya-making, it took a lot of persuasion before some (not all) would impart a few of their secret tips to making excellent kaya.

The difference in the two styles lies in the flavoring and the treatment of sugar. The Hainanese-style kaya (the brown one) is colored by caramelized sugar, which also imparts a different richness of aroma and flavor to its sweetness. The Nonya-style kaya (the green one) is flavored, and therefore also naturally colored, by highly aromatic pandan (screwpine) leaves.

As a kid, I adored kaya. I had it for breakfast. I brought it to school for my morning break. And sometimes, I had it again for tea in the afternoon. The kaya I ate every day was home-made by an elderly woman, and bottled in little glass jars that she had collected from somewhere, cleaned and re-cycled. Each morning she would be at the market, selling her home-made kaya.

I didn’t know it at the time, but the ones she made, and the ones which I loved so much were of the Hainanese style, or at least her version of Hainanese-style kaya.

I remember the breathtaking aroma of the coconut milk each time the jar was opened. I remember the intensely sweet taste of the jam. (It’s amazing how sweet kids like their food.) I remember the caramel-y undertones of the jam. I also remember the kaya’s bright orangey-red color. There was none of the “dull” natural brown of caramelized sugar for this elderly “auntie”. No, instead the jam was “brightened up” (as she used to say) with the addition of bright color additives. And how I loved the smooth, almost runny, creamy texture. The taste of a piece of toast, covered with melted butter and rich kaya… sublime!

As an adult, we bought our kaya from the supermarket. Mostly Nonya-styled. These were commercialized, mass-produced versions, churned out of large vats in a sterile factory. They were starchy modern incarnations of the original. Gone was the loving process of manually stirring the rich potion to bring it to its peak fullness of flavor and texture. Starch was added to aid the thickening process, and to give the jam a glistening glossiness. Additives were also added to stabilize the product and prolong shelf-life. Gone was the need to eat up the jam within one week of purchase. The modern versions could keep for weeks on end. Gone too was the assurance and knowledge that the jar of kaya we bought was freshly made the previous night, and not weeks or maybe months before. Pretty soon, gone too was my interest in kaya. The aromas and flavors no longer titillated.

For years, I stopped taking kaya altogether. I found new and more interesting taste-bud teasers like peanut butter, nutella and fruit preserves to top by bread and toast with. Then, a few weeks ago, I had a tryst with destiny. While browsing the supermarket (yes, it’s one of my favorite activities), I caught sight of this jar of kaya (see top picture). It was the packaging that initially grabbed my attention. It had a rather “classy” label for a jar of kaya. Definitely different from the normal kaya packaging that I was so used to seeing. It even had a small little gift tag attached to the back of each jar. I liked this updated, modern new look.

The price was also definitely “classy” – at almost double of the best-known, and probably best-selling brand of kaya.

It was a brand I hadn’t seen before. Kaya House. They offered both the Hainanese and Nonya versions. It was the former that called out to me. It was less commonly available. Most brands only rolled out the green Nonya kaya. I popped one into the shopping cart.

Since then, there has been no turning back. I’ve fallen in love all over again. It’s very different from the version that I ate as a kid. And yet in some ways it is rather reminiscent of the taste of old that I remember so well.

Some would contend that Kaya House’s version of Hainanese kaya does not have the best texture and aroma that can be found. And yet, I am so incredibly infatuated with it.

The color is a nice, natural brown of caramel. No color additives. (In fact, no preservatives too.) It smells and tastes of coconut milk and caramelized sugar, and yet is not overly sweet. The texture is not the smoothest, with a slightly grainy feel, but only a tad so, with no effect on the mouth-feel of the jam. In fact, I find that appealing. It gives a sort of rustic, home-made feel to the kaya. It has the consistency more of a thick paste rather than of a custard. Yet, it spreads easily and smoothly.

It seems to have become highly popular. I went through my first jar so quickly that I had to restock soon after. It was sold out at my regular Cold Storage outlet. I bought another jar when new stocks arrived. On my next trip to the supermarket, just days later, it was sold out again. And interestingly, it is always the Hainanese version that sells out the quickest. This new brand seems to have answered an unspoken cry of desire. People are perhaps tired of the Nonya kaya. We want change. And now we have gotten it. Kudos to Kaya House.

So this is my current food infatuation. I eat it with everything. Toast, bread, cream crackers, Ritz crackers…

The simplicity yet eloquence of a piece of kaya bread.

Talking about bread… oh gosh… of late, I have been imbibing toast/bread like there is no tomorrow. That’s next… my wild and quirky adventures with bread…

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