The Yellow Palace and the Politics of Hunger: A Personal Musing

There's something deliciously subversive about dining in a place that once housed Malay royalty. Gedung Kuning—the Yellow Mansion—stands at 73 Sultan Gate in the heart of Kampong Glam, a silent witness to Singapore's messy, complicated history. Today, it houses Permata Singapore, where the best halal buffet in Singapore unfolds across multiple stations, each one telling stories that textbooks conveniently forget.​

I arrived on a sweltering Saturday afternoon, the kind where Arab Street shimmers with heat and possibility. The historic district has always fascinated me—this pocket of resistance where culture refuses to be sanitized, where the call to prayer still punctuates the day, where spice shops and textile stores stubbornly exist alongside Instagram-worthy cafes.​

Walking through Gedung Kuning's doors feels like stepping through a portal. The Palladian-style exterior gives way to traditional Malay house interiors, and suddenly you're not just eating—you're participating in an act of cultural memory. Chef Mel Dean has curated something remarkable here: a 1-for-1 halal buffet that doesn't merely serve food but serves history on a plate.​​

The Kota Laksmana seafood station greets you first. Prawns and mussels gleam on ice, but forget your usual Tabasco sauce. Here, you'll find torch ginger dressing and sambal balado—because why would we defer to Western condiments when our own burn brighter? This is the subtle rebellion of Nusantara cuisine: it refuses to apologize for its boldness.​​

I pile my plate with Rawon Risotto, a fusion that would make purists uncomfortable. Good. Discomfort means thinking, and thinking is precisely what we need when we engage with food culture. The deep, earthy Indonesian rawon meets Italian creamy risotto, and somehow it works—a culinary metaphor for what Kampong Glam has always been: a space where cultures collide and create something new.​

The halal restaurants in Bugis have their charm, but Permata Singapore operates on a different frequency. It's located in a conservation building that survived colonialism, capitalism, and countless urban renewal plans. The fact that you can still eat Rendang Beef and Sambal Prawns where Tengku Mahmud once walked—that's not just dining, that's reclamation.​

Arab Street halal food has evolved remarkably. From the century-old establishments serving nasi padang to contemporary spots experimenting with fusion, the district remains a living archive. But Permata Singapore bridges past and future by operating in a space that literally embodies that tension. The yellow walls aren't just painted—they're coded with meaning. Yellow signifies royalty in Malay culture, and every meal here whispers: you are worthy of this richness.​

I finish with Pengat Durian for dessert, washing it down with Teh Tarik. Around me, families laugh, friends catch up, strangers become temporary community. This is what the best halal buffet in Singapore should be: not just food, but fellowship. Not just taste, but testimony.​

Gedung Kuning stands because we refuse to let it fall. And Permata Singapore feeds us because hunger—for food, for culture, for belonging—never truly disappears.