KL’s vivacious culinary scene may be at the centre of Malaysian dining, but a late-night meal at the mamak remains at its heart. As Kuala Lumpur builds upward, is the mamak is being silently priced out of existence?
Mamaks are the backbone of Malaysian culinary culture, embodying both cultural heritage and economic accessibility. Equally, these night markets are business models that are tasked with adapting to KL’s speedy rate of urbanisation. The more dense KL becomes, the more mamaks seem to be closing down; more than 600 mamak bistros are on the cusp of permanent closure, following previous waves where over 2000 to 3000 outlets had already shut down as a product of COVID’s labour shortages. The attractiveness of the mamak has always been its cheapness and accessibility - it is where the city goes when everywhere else has closed. Its classic operation follows simple maths: low rent of an ageing shop lot, thin margins on high volume, tables lined up in each last corner. A roti canai could cost a single ringgit and a bit because nothing about the setup was expensive, but KL’s current rate of urbanisation attacks every component of that equation.
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Above A group of friends enjoying a traditional plate of satay with peanut sauce and cucumber in Georgetown, Penang
As older shophouses are refurbished into more modern spaces, or even redeveloped into condominiums and towers, the cheap tenancies that subsidised cheap food evaporate. What would have been the stretch of road home to tables and chairs for eating instead becomes a contested space in a city increasingly anxious about pavements, licensing, and cars. Furthermore, halal-friendly ingredients, cooking gas, and most crucially, labour, have climbed. The mamak’s dependence on migrant workers, most usually from South Asia, is threatened with every change made to foreign-labour policy. Although none of the above is completely detrimental on its own, there is a larger cumulative effect at hand: the independent, family-run mamak becomes harder to sustain every year.
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Above A man skillfully pulling Malaysia’s favourite teh tarik at a food stall night market
On the other hand, what replaces the authentic mamak is not nothing. It is, increasingly, a chain.
Air-conditioned, vibrantly branded, card-accepting franchise mamaks now dominate shopping mall basement food courts, with the most successful of them exporting the sanitised, middle-class notion of wholesale. For a diner who is looking for a classic mee goreng and a clean toilet, this may be an improvement. But something irreplaceable is traded in the standardisation - the individual kedai was characterised by its individual quirks, whether it was the particular hand that pulls your teh tarik or the off-menu meal the owner will happily make for their regulars. Unfortunately for a chain, you cannot franchise idiosyncrasy.

Above A portion of classic mamak mee goreng, with chicken, garnished with kecap manis and fried shallots, finished with a lime for tartness
But ultimately, the mamak has been the only consistent force to keep up with Kuala Lumpur’s 24-hour rhythm. As the city gets denser, a more ravenous crowd is produced: hungry students post-club, delivery drivers, night-shift workers. A denser and more sleepless city creates exactly the demand the mamak was built to serve.
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