When it comes to food writing, I am well aware that phrases like “hidden gem” and “off the beaten track” are thrown around so often, they’ve started to lose their meaning. But as I found myself travelling down a narrow track over 20km west of Johor Bahru’s main city centre, I realised that for once, the cliches were true.
Lured by the promise of “good and cheap” seafood, I headed back across the border – this time via the Second Link – at the invitation of writer and JB resident David Ngiau. He’s the kind of Makan Kaki who looks for the story behind the meal, so I was excited for a day of eating that would extend beyond just a full plate.
Our journey began in Kampung Simpang Arang, a village that feels like a snapshot of Singapore’s past. Sandwiched between the Forest City Golf Resort to the west and Legoland to the east, it remains mostly frozen in time against the relentless tide of progress.
Tucked away in the Iskandar Puteri town of Gelang Patah, about 20 minutes from Tuas Checkpoint, it’s a culturally significant settlement of Orang Laut or “sea people”, who once inhabited Singapore’s northern coast of Seletar.
David explained: “This village is one of the nine or so remaining kampungs in Johor that are home to the Orang Seletar, indigenous to our region. About 60 years ago, as the international border was erected and industrialisation began to take shape, they were compelled to move to this side of the Straits.”
Kampung Simpang Arang translates to “Charcoal Junction Village”, a name rooted in the days when Chinese settlers established a flourishing charcoal industry using wood from the surrounding mangroves.
The trade was so vital that even during the Japanese occupation of World War II, the military kept the kilns running to fuel their own efforts. Over time, the Orang Seletar settled alongside the Chinese families and intermarried, creating a fascinating cultural mix. Within this unique community, smoke still rises from the kilns and livelihoods are still firmly anchored to the sea.
From this colourful past, a new enterprise has sprung up in the village – Zhi Lai Hai Xian (known simply as Kedai Makan Simpang Arang) – a family-run seafood restaurant managed by 30-year-old Tang Poh Choo.
“My Ah Gong (grandfather) was Chinese from Singapore,” she informed me in fluent Mandarin. Her father Tang Ah Ling, 57, is better known as Ah Kuang and his name card proudly declares his Orang Asli (indigenous) heritage. Recognising the complementary potential of his seafood trading business, the family decided to open the pork-free, lard-free eatery five years ago.
No-frills, but impeccably clean, the restaurant consists of tables and chairs under a wide awning, flanked by tanks of live seafood. If you’re lucky, Ah Kuang might even walk you across to his own supply for the choicest picks.
“All freshly caught this morning. We’re near a river, Sungai Simpang Arang, just north of their village, that goes out to the sea,” David remarked.
The singular goal at Zhi Lai Hai Xian is to highlight the pristine freshness of their ingredients and in the kitchen, Poh Choo’s brother Ah Hock, 23, fired up the wok, cooking with a confidence that belied his youth.
We started with the sotong sambal (RM35 or around S$11.23) – whole squid, steamed lightly to a tender, bouncy snap and dressed with a sauce of red chillies, onion and dried shrimp. The sambal added a spicy, umami kick that didn’t overpower the delicate mollusc flavour.
Then came the masterpiece – salted egg and black pepper crab (RM128). This hybrid treatment of two classic zi char flavours was a stroke of genius. The sauce was a velvety emulsion of salted egg yolk, spiked with the earthy, sharp heat of cracked black pepper – heavenly with the juicy-sweetness of the crab meat or when mopped up with thick, pillowy fried mantou (RM1.50 each). But for me, the ultimate prize was lifting the top shell to discover an abundance of rich, neon-orange roe.
Flipping through the menu of mud crabs and flower crabs, I had a feeling I was missing out – especially when David mentioned that his 80-year-old foodie father ranks their chilli crab in his Johor top five.
We also sampled tua tao (Asian green mussels) prepared in the Malaysian kam heong (or gan xiang) style. The “big head” mussels were briny and succulent, wok-tossed in a fragrant blitz of dried shrimp, curry leaves, chillies, ginger and other aromatics.
Even the lala with ginger and spring onion (RM38) was delightful in its simplicity. Slicked in a light, glossy sauce, the local sea clams popped right out of their shells like tender, chewy bursts of the sea.
We paired the feast with kangkong cili (RM10), stir-fried with red chilli, shallots, and a specific hae bee (dried shrimp) that Poh Choo takes great pride in. “We get ours from a special supplier,” she said. “It’s bigger, juicier and plumper than usual, with a really good shrimp taste.”
Speaking of which, the prawns in Indonesian-style curry were exceptionally fresh, swimming in creamy, savoury gravy that begged to be eaten with mountains of rice.
There were also big, barely cooked blood cockles, best pried open by hand and popped directly from shell to mouth or dipped in an array of DIY condiments. Sweet and sour green chilli sauce, fresh minced garlic, soya sauce and cili padi made for many piquant permutations.
For a final surprise, we were served giant clams wider than my palm. The meaty bivalves were topped with crispy minced garlic, spring onion and springy vermicelli plump with the briny juices.
As we ate, the heavens opened and so did the doors. Out rushed the village children to play with abandon in the heavy downpour. We were effectively rained in, but being stuck for an hour felt less like a delay and more like a gift. While we waited for the storm to subside, we watched the children scream with joy as they splashed in the gutter runoff from the roofs.
“It’s so heartwarming, like a scene straight out of a Lat comic book,” David observed. It was a rare, time-travelling reprieve – a chance to press pause and witness a slice of kampung life that felt worlds away for this city girl. Our appetites satisfied and our spirits lifted, it was time to move on as the rain finally slowed to a drizzle.
David suggested we head 15 minutes back into town for a warming cup of teh at a spot he tries to visit at least once a month. Anjung (or Warong) Perintis Cafe is a charming, rustic sanctuary built around four trees, with a zinc roof meticulously cut to allow the trunks through, undisturbed.
“I love places like this and this particular warung bawah pokok has a special place in my heart,” David shared. Literally meaning “shop under the tree”, these humble, outdoor mamak stalls are going the way of the kampungs – original, authentic ones are increasingly difficult to find.
It started out as a just a small makeshift pushcart selling tea, coffee and snacks by the roadside. Now, it’s a monument to its late owner, Sarikan, who made it his passion project after retirement.
Following stints as a firefighter in Singapore and with the police force in Johor, the avid Gelang Patah born-and-bred carpenter decided to expand the warung himself, bringing his beautiful yet functional design to life.
“I remember him looking up at the trees and musing: ‘You know, you can’t take it with you. So we shouldn’t be wasting so much time fighting just for money, fighting with our families.’ It was a wonderful heart to heart,” David recalled of their last conversation.
Tragically, Sarikan passed away from a heart attack the very next morning. David shared, “There was love and care that went into the construction of this beautiful warung. It lives on in this special place, which has a special meaning for me now, too.”
The quaint, hand-built cafe is still impeccably maintained, with an open concept kitchen and ample sheltered seating surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. Sarikan’s wife, Yati, now carries on his legacy, serving up pisang goreng, nasi lemak, mee siam, mee rebus and other comforting, home-style classics.
I spotted a pot of spiced mutton soup bubbling on the stove and despite our earlier seafood feast, had to try some. Known colloquially as “sup gearbox” because the knee joint bone sticking out of the bowl resembles a manual gear shift, it was sheer, steamy indulgence.
Yati served it with a straw stuck into the bone’s hollow so that the intensely silky marrow could be easily slurped up. The broth was a complex infusion of herbs, spices, celery and tomato, offering a comforting warmth that felt like a hug from the inside out.
The same could be said of the teh halia, which was a far cry from the pre-packaged variety. It was properly brewed milk tea with actual chunks of raw ginger floating inside – bracing, spicy, and perfect for cutting through the humidity of the rainy afternoon.
Perhaps the peaceful environment inspired David’s philosophical turn, as he quoted from the Pet Shop Boys’ West End Girls: “I’ve adjusted the first line: ‘We’ve got no future, if we’ve got no past. Here today, built to last.’ You’ve got to know your history. Have great appreciation for what’s come before so that you don’t repeat mistakes. It enriches your life.”
Looking around at the warung Sarikan had so carefully constructed and thinking back to the enduring fishing and charcoal heritage of Kampung Simpang Arang, David’s words rang true. These aren’t just places to eat at – they are cultural touchstones holding fast against the pull of the modern world, with stories that deserve to be remembered and cherished.
Zhi Lai Hai Xian (Kedai Makan Simpang Arang) is located at 25, 81550 Gelang Patah, Johor Darul Ta’zim, Malaysia. It’s open daily from 11am to 10pm. Note: Seafood prices are subject to weight and prevailing market rates.
Anjung Perintis Cafe (or Warong Perintis Cafe) is located at Susur Nusa Perintis, Taman Nusa Perintis, 81550 Gelang Patah, Johor Darul Ta’zim, Malaysia. It’s open daily from 10am to 10pm. Look for the football field across from it.
Catch Makan Kakis with Denise Tan every Thursday from 11am on MediaCorp Gold 905.