This summer, there’s a good chance you’ll notice something unusual next to the standard fish pie as you walk past the specials board of a progressive gastropub. Perhaps it’s a chicken thigh covered in sambal. Perhaps it’s a bowl of something called, rather regretfully, “Malaysian style laksa.” It’s not yet widely available. It’s beginning to appear in the locations that focus the most on the direction of food culture, and that in and of itself is worth pausing to consider.
According to Bidfood’s 2026 trends report, Malaysian cuisine is one of the three cuisines that British operators should be keeping a careful eye on this year, along with Korean and South American flavors. Given that Bidfood isn’t a lifestyle store that follows trends, that assertion is noteworthy. It provides the real kitchens that real pubs use for cooking, and when it instructs chefs on what to stock, they usually comply.
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Cuisine | Malaysian (Malay, Chinese, Indian, Indonesian, and Portuguese-Eurasian influences) |
| Signature dishes cited as pub-friendly | Nasi lemak, rendang, satay, laksa, sambal-based glazes |
| Consumer appetite (UK) | 55% of consumers likely or very likely to try Malaysian cuisine; 41% willing to pay more for it |
| Strongest UK demographic | Students (61% willing to try) and self-identified “foodies” (68%) |
| Known UK ambassadors | Norman Musa (Ning, Manchester), Sharizah (Dapur Café, London), Fatizah (Satay House, London) |
The same survey, 55% of UK customers say they’re likely or very likely to eat Malaysian food; among students and self described foodies, that percentage rises to 61% and 68%, respectively. Nothing is guaranteed by those numbers. They imply a hunger that is already present and just needs to be presented with the appropriate food.
The ease with which Malaysian cuisine seems to suit the format of a British pub menu without any translating is what makes it an intriguing case rather than just another item on a trends list. Most British diners automatically realize that satay is just a kebab with peanut sauce. The coconut rice dish known as nasi lemak, which is frequently filled with fried chicken, anchovies, peanuts, and a hot sambal, is similar to a plate of pub chips with all the extras. With a different spice rack behind it, rendang, which is slow cooked and intensely spiced, reads nearly exactly like the type of braised, falling apart beef dish that has been a winter pub mainstay for decades.
As this develops, there’s a feeling that Malaysian cuisine could be successful in bars since it doesn’t require British patrons to give up their favorite aspects of pub fare. It simply requests that they season it differently. A beef shin special is not drastically different from a rendang glazed Sunday roast. From a kebab platter to a satay skewer starter, there isn’t much of a cognitive shift. Only the flavor profile is altered, which is a far smaller request than completely redesigning the menu. The format’s fundamentals are already well known.
Malaysian food has a structural limitation that Korean cuisine, which is currently its closest rival for trend attention, does not have to the same extent, so it is still uncertain how much of this enthusiasm will actually translate into menu space. Before a single additional pub menu changed, Korean cuisine found its way to Britain thanks to K pop, K dramas, and ten years of Netflix exposure, which made gochujang and kimchi household terms. In the same way that Squid Game drew diners to Korean fried chicken, Malaysian cuisine lacks a comparable cultural engine and a worldwide popular entertainment export that draws in interested diners to sambal. Maybe the flavors are ready. In contrast, the cultural foundation still seems shaky.
In a more subdued but no less noticeable fashion, the disparity also appears in the supermarket aisle. Gochujang is now nearly mainstream, sitting happily next to soy sauce and harissa in the world foods area of a large UK supermarket. It is more difficult to locate belacan, the fermented shrimp paste that forms the foundation of most of Malaysian cuisine, outside of specialty Asian supermarkets. Access to ingredients is more important than most people realize since a pub kitchen that doesn’t have a dependable Tuesday morning delivery of an unusual paste will discreetly remove the dish from the upcoming season’s specials.
The fact that the food has already established itself in London, where eateries like Sambal Shiok and the more recent wave of contemporary Malaysian establishments have developed sincere fan bases without relying solely on innovation, is heartening. A modern Malaysian restaurant in Clapton was highlighted in Time Out’s most recent list of the top eateries in the city for its dishes based on family recipes and robust, unabashed heat the kind of food that draws return customers rather than just one inquisitive try. Pubs would likely need to adopt that approach, which consists more of a few self assured dishes that don’t pretend to be anything other than what they are than a whole “Malaysian menu.”
For now, it’s unclear if Malaysian flavors will truly make the transition from London’s independent eateries to the specials board of a wet led pub in Sheffield or Swansea. Appetite may be quantified. The majority of the ingredients can be found, if not easily. The spark, the one breakout dish or breakout operator that turns curiosity into a line, is what’s lacking. Before chains gained popularity, Bunsik and Seoul Bird were doing that work in Korean cuisine. It’s difficult not to wonder which kitchen gets there first because Malaysian cuisine, at least in bars, is still waiting for its similar moment.
i) https://www.vice.com/en/article/this-malaysian-australian-chef-doesnt-want-you-to-call-his-food-fusion/
ii) https://thatsup.co.uk/london/guide/the-best-malaysian-restaurants-in-london/
iii) https://jiakpabui.wordpress.com/2018/05/09/malaysias-original-fusion-foods-hainanese-cuisine/
iv) https://londonist.com/london/food/the-best-malaysian-and-singaporean-food-in-london