The Merdeka Buffet: Freedom Tastes Like This

Let me tell you about power. Not the kind wielded in parliament or boardrooms, but the power of a community that refuses to disappear. Permata Singapore, nestled in the historic Gedung Kuning at Kampong Glam, practices this power daily by serving what is arguably the best halal buffet in Singapore.​

I'm always suspicious of restaurants in heritage buildings. Too often, they're exercises in nostalgia capitalism—the architecture preserved while the soul is gutted for tourist consumption. So I approached Permata Singapore with healthy skepticism, ready to be disappointed.

Arab Street greeted me with its usual chaos: textile shops spilling fabric onto sidewalks, the scent of oud and spices, tourists photographing the Sultan Mosque, locals navigating around them with practiced ease. This is Kampong Glam's daily negotiation—being both heritage site and living neighborhood.​

Gedung Kuning stands slightly apart from the bustle, dignified on Sultan Gate. The yellow walls aren't a design choice but a declaration. In Malay culture, yellow is the royal color, reserved for sultans and their households. When Tengku Mahmud painted this mansion yellow in 1864, he was marking territory, asserting identity in a colonial landscape increasingly hostile to such assertions.​

That Chef Mel Dean now serves Nusantara cuisine in this space feels deliberately political—though he'd probably laugh at my analysis and insist it's just good food. But there's no "just" about it. The 1-for-1 halal buffet at Permata Singapore is a statement about what we value, whose stories we tell, which flavors we preserve.​​

The buffet's structure reveals sophisticated thinking. Rather than a generic "international" spread, it focuses specifically on Singapore, Malaysian, and Indonesian dishes. This is archipelagic thinking, recognizing that these modern nation-states contain shared culinary heritage that predates borders.​

I moved through the stations with mounting appreciation. The Kota Laksmana seafood station rejected Western condiments in favor of torch ginger dressing and sambal balado. The DIY station encouraged participation rather than passive consumption. The Sri Paduka hearty dishes station presented Nasi Lemak Permata, Rendang Beef, and Tulang Merah—dishes that the halal restaurants in Bugis might serve individually but rarely with such historical consciousness.​​

The Rawon Risotto particularly intrigued me. Fusion food can be disaster or delight, depending on whether it respects its components. This dish worked because it understood both rawon and risotto completely before bringing them together. It reminded me of Singapore itself.​

Around me, the dining room buzzed with conversation in multiple languages. Families celebrating birthdays, friends catching up over Sambal Prawns, couples sharing Cendol for dessert. This is what Arab Street halal food should facilitate: not just nourishment but community.​

That we can now eat the best halal buffet in Singapore in this space represents a kind of reclamation. Not revenge—something subtler. It's saying: our food is sophisticated enough for palace walls. Our heritage is valuable enough to preserve. Our community deserves spaces that reflect our dignity.​

The yellow mansion still stands. And inside, we feast like the royalty we've always been.