
Commentary: Why do we revere fast food so much that we're building museums even for specific burgers?
With an intense burn designed to suit the local palate, the McSpicy quickly became so popular that it remains a staple on the fast food chain's menu to this day.
Over the last two weeks, McDonald's celebrated the burger's journey from inception to local icon. The McSpicy Museum, a pop-up event held from May 13 to May 25, transformed the open area next to McDonald's at Bugis Junction into an interactive space featuring reflex-testing games, trivia, photo booths and vibrant installations.
As a Singaporean currently residing in Europe, I've noticed a stark contrast in attitudes towards fast food. Europeans often view fast food as low-status or unhealthy, associating it with rushed lifestyles or the working class. In contrast, fast food in Singapore is far from stigmatised.
In fact, there are now more than 700 fast food establishments across the country, with two fast food giants - South Korea's Lotteria and America's Chick-fil-A - entering the market this year.
CONVENIENCE CULTURE
A quick search on online forums suggests a straightforward answer: Pragmatism.
In a fast-paced urban environment like Singapore, convenience and value are key decision drivers. With only 22 per cent of Singaporeans cooking at home daily, fast food chains meet a critical demand for quick, reliable meals amid busy schedules.
Conveniently located in malls and near MRT stations, fast food outlets deliver speed, order, and reliability - qualities highly prized by time-pressed, energy-sapped office workers and students.
While local hawker stalls provide some of the country's cheapest meals, they often close on certain days or have limited hours. Fast food chains, by contrast, are almost always open for business, with some operating 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.
With rising hawker prices, fast food may appeal to budget-conscious Singaporeans who desire air-conditioned comfort in the island's oppressive heat and humidity.
To sweeten the deal, many chains also offer loyalty programmes that reward repeat customers with points redeemable for food or discounts, further increasing their value-for-money appeal.
FAST FOOD AS CULTURAL SYMBOL
Nostalgia also plays an important role in why fast food is so dear to the hearts of so many Singaporeans.
Prior to the late 1970s, when McDonald's first arrived in Singapore, locals mostly ate at hawker centres and traditional eateries.
The arrival of modern, clean, American, air-conditioned fast food chains introduced a new dining trend and symbolised a connection to Western culture and global modernity.
While Europeans saw fast food more as a convenient or cheap alternative, Singaporeans saw it as aspirational or symbolically celebratory, as the arrival of fast food coincided with Singapore's rapid modernisation.
What's now an ordinary burger was once seen as an 'atas' (upscale) treat then - a special indulgence beyond typical hawker fare.
An entire generation of millennial children grew up perceiving birthday celebrations at McDonald's or Happy Meals - kid-sized meal sets that include small toys - as luxurious treats.
In 2000, McDonald's Singapore launched a campaign where customers were able to purchase limited-edition Hello Kitty plushies with every Extra Value Meal. The toys sparked nationwide frenzy, with up to 300,000 people lining up at outlets island-wide and culminating in skirmishes and other public disturbances.
This irrational devotion - willingness to risk injury for a plushie - effectively demonstrates how fast food transcends its utilitarian purpose in Singapore. We now celebrate fast food items and emblems like they are cultural artifacts because, in a way, they are.
Over the years, McDonald's has even found its way into National Service marching songs, with staple menu items like Filet-O-Fish and apple pie shouted out in the lyrics.
Eventually, purchasing a burger from McDonald's was no longer just about the burger - it was also about being part of the cultural moment.
HYBRID CULTURE
In some European societies, fast food is frowned upon because it is seen as the antithesis of traditional food culture and heritage. In 1999, French farmer and union official Jose Bove ransacked a McDonald's restaurant to protest American corporate influence and 'malbouffe' ('bad food').
He became something of a national celebrity in France, where the public saw his actions as a symbolic resistance to American cultural imperialism, globalisation's threat to traditional food practices, and a loss of culinary identity, particularly in a country like France with a long and rich gastronomic history.
However, in Singapore, fast food was never perceived that way.
Singaporeans have always simultaneously embraced globalisation and their traditional roots, often expecting international brands to adapt to local tastes and culture.
McDonald's alone offers many more examples, with unique creations like the Nasi Lemak Burger and menu items tied to local holidays, like the Prosperity Burger for Chinese New Year.
These items are not just food but cultural emblems. The McSpicy, specifically, is so embraced because it is genuinely hot by local standards - a rare and notable example of a Western brand successfully catering to local palates.
We talk about it almost as a cultural rite of passage - a pain-pleasure experience that many Singaporeans can relate to, for better or worse.
Other fast food giants have followed suit. KFC introduced the Rendang Rice Bucket and Curry Rice Buckets exclusively to its Singapore outlets. Pizza Hut experimented with durian cheese and assam laksa pizzas. Burger King had the Hainanese Tendergrill Chicken Burger as a hat-tip to our national dish, Hainanese chicken rice.
The success of these localised menu items suggests Singaporeans' openness to adopting and adapting imports of global food culture with pride, rather than viewing them as threats.
That a deep-fried chicken burger now commands a 'museum' event suggests just how far fast food has come in shaping our tastes, habits, and sense of self.
Whether this marks a clever cultural fusion or compromise remains unclear. But in Singapore, at least, the McSpicy isn't just a burger - it's a story we've chosen to tell about ourselves.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


CNA
2 days ago
- CNA
She dreamed of running away to join the circus – so this NUS graduate did exactly that
In 2014, 13-year-old Megan Lau sat wide-eyed in the audience of The House of Dancing Water, a water-based circus show in Macau. That evening, she climbed into the hotel bathtub and told her mum that she wanted to be a water princess. A decade on, she's living that dream – as a performer in the very same show. Nine times a week, she is suspended mid-air in a shimmering 15kg skirt and Swarovski-studded headpiece, hoisted above the audience like a human chandelier and across a stage pool holding about 15 million litres of water. When I met her earlier this month, Ms Lau, now 24, was eight months into her job as an aerialist and had taken all three days of her flexible leave to fly home to graduate from the National University of Singapore (NUS) with a degree in philosophy, politics and economics. Watching her warm up at an aerial studio tucked in the heart of Singapore's central business district, the setting seemed to reflect the playful contrast she herself recently noted on social media. She had observed that while her friends were busy climbing corporate ladders, her career involved a much more literal climb up ropes and acrobatics apparatuses. Earlier this year, Ms Lau decided to share snippets of her choice to "run away to the circus" on social media. Some of her videos have amassed more than 20 million views. Her videos offer glimpses of behind-the-scenes moments, ranging from her being dunked in a water cage to hanging upside-down from a lyra or a large, suspended aerial hoop. Ms Lau said she was inspired to film her life in the circus and share it on a public platform as way of savouring the moment. "It gives me a breath of fresh air, and a very good reminder that 'Megan, you're doing something really, really cool with your life'," she said. "It's brought me so much gratitude that I'm essentially doing what I love as a living, which is something that not many people can say they do." THE THRILL OF BEING SUSPENDED 20M IN THE AIR The show itself is a spectacle blending acrobatics, water effects, dance and special lighting, running for around 100 minutes per performance in a 2,000-seat theatre. Although The House of Dancing Water originally launched in 2010, it took a nearly five-year hiatus during the pandemic. Ms Lau is among the 90-strong cast performing in its 2025 revival. "It's quite tiring because we're doing nine shows in five days, so most days are two-show days," said Ms Lau. Her workday starts sometime around noon or 2pm. Rehearsals and strength training fill her afternoons, followed by a brief scramble to fix hair, makeup and costumes before stepping on stage. Each performance day means navigating six costume changes, some made trickier by requiring her to switch from dripping wet costumes to dry ones in mere minutes. When the show was relaunched this May, Ms Lau had already spent around eight months training in Macau. But even with her extensive dance background – beginning ballet at age five, teaching and performing regularly through her school years – Ms Lau had taken her first trial class in the aerial arts only two years ago. She had performed in only one outdoor aerial show, in Clarke Quay, which was on a portable aerial rig with a hoop choreography that lifted her only 2m off the ground. Even then, she was a bundle of nerves, so she was "definitely very scared" when she learnt that her new job involved flying almost 10 times that height on a daily basis. "One of the starting things we had to do was learning rope rescue, in case the rigging system stops and you need to climb down safely. So when they told me I had to climb down the rope (from 15m above the ground), my hands were so sweaty, so clammy," said Ms Lau with a laugh. "Now, every day, we're flying from like 20m down. But the more you do it, the more used to the height you are." Some of the most exciting parts of working for a water-based circus show include all the additional skills she has picked up, including learning how to scuba dive, due to the underwater segments some sequences. But it is not all glitz and glamour. Transitioning to being a full-time performer took a physical and mental toll, she said. "I think the most difficult part was going from university, being on the laptop a lot, and then completely jumping into something that's so physical, because now I need to work my body every day," she said. She showed me her hands, each palm thickly calloused, and then mentioned casually she had once twisted her foot – though the onsite physiotherapy team quickly treated it. Still, there's been at least one perk: Ms Lau laughed as she described how friends have been quick to point out how noticeably muscular she's become since starting the job. 'NO WAY THEY WILL TAKE ME, RIGHT?' Watching Ms Lau effortlessly swing herself upside down from an aerial hoop – and casually continuing our conversation mid-air – it was easy to be taken in by her movements, and the joy that seemed to radiate off her from having chosen the path less trodden. Years ago, I had entertained similar dreams of pursuing a degree in the performing arts, yet had chosen the somewhat safer, more conventional route of a regular office job. When asked, Ms Lau said she had not expected to find herself here either. She had opted to enroll in NUS as it was more practical to have a degree she could "fall back on". Instead of pursuing dance at the college level, she performed and taught dance as a freelancer while studying to help pay for her tuition fees. In May last year, she chanced upon a casting call for aerialists for The House of Dancing Water on social media and felt compelled to apply given it was "the best show (she'd) ever watched". "I (was) just trying my luck. But I was like, no way that they will take me, right?" But just a few days after submitting a show reel, she got a callback and was asked to send in a video of her performing some choreographed moves. Then came atwo-month-long casting process online that culminated in a job offer with the circus. As the contract began before her May 2025 graduation, Ms Lau had to balance training days in Macau with flying back and forth on days off to take the remaining NUS classes and exams for eight months. During that time, she was flying back to Singapore once a week, departing Macau on Monday nights, attending school on Tuesday and jetting back to Macau late on Tuesday nights, ready for work on Wednesday. She also attended classes throughout the week on Zoom and would wake up as early as 6am to get schoolwork done before 10am trainings. "Balancing training and school work was definitely a push. I usually came home from work pretty tired, so instead of doing school at night, I would wake up extra early to get my readings and assignments done," said Ms Lau. But given the four years spent at NUS, and the internship experience she had in banking and corporate roles, was a performing role as her first full-time job top of mind? Ms Lau said it was not: "I was applying for other corporate roles, and was ready to go into a corporate job with my degree. It came as a really, really big surprise. And when I got the offer, I was like, 'What's this?' "My heart said yes, immediately. My heart was like, oh my god, I have to do this, right?" But as the ever practical Singaporean, Ms Lau drew up a pros and cons list to help her with her decision. Despite the cons list being longer, she could not shake off the "biggest pro", which was achieving a childhood dream of getting to perform in a show she had loved. Beyond coming to terms with it herself, Ms Lau said it was a big shock for family and friends that she wanted to move overseas for such a non-conventional job. "My mum's always been very supportive with my entire dance journey. She was the full-on dance mum, following me to all the competitions, sending me for lessons, exams," she said. "But because this is an aerial job, she was naturally very nervous about how risky this job might be for my safety." But now, her family and friends are her biggest supporters. On premiere night, her family and friends, including one who came from Beijing to support her, filled up the seats. About 12 friends have made trips to watch the show so far, and her mother has visited Macau to help her settle in and watch the show twice. She is grateful that Singapore is around four hours by plane from Macau, as some of her cast mates have come from as far afield as France, Belgium and Australia. "I think I've been really lucky, compared to the other castmates, that Singapore is so close to Macau. I had many people to come watch, which was just such a blessing." DOCUMENTING THE DAYS With her mornings free and a day off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Ms Lau has begun using the spare time editing videos for her Instagram account, where her posts offering glimpses of her daily life have attracted unexpected interest. Some videos, such as those capturing moments like bidding farewell to her mother and brother at the airport, began simply as personal keepsakes, but now she is determined to document the journey. "I wanted to remember this portion of life. I thought it was a very interesting job and a lot of my friends also wanted to know what I've been doing, what the day-to-day of a live performer looks like," said Ms Lau. Her filming setup is modest – just her phone and a water bottle to prop it up while recording training sessions – but the response she has received has been a pleasant surprise. Even strangers have come to watch her perform in the show after seeing her posts online. Despite all the stunts she is doing now, her favourite part of the show is the curtain call, when she is standing on stage and hearing and seeing the audience. "It always gets me a bit emotional every time I see how many people come to watch our shows every night," she said with a smile. For now, Ms Lau does not have a fixed timeline for how long she plans to remain as a full-time aerialist. She just hopes to cherish every second at the House of Dancing Water. "I love doing what I'm doing. I'm just trying to appreciate each day, appreciate each show as it comes," she said. Ms Lau is also the only Singaporean performer in the show in an international cast boasting very experienced acrobats – something she described as feeling surreal. "In Singapore we have metrics of success that we usually measure ourselves by, like our careers or what degree we study. But I think sometimes we really need to find a passion that we love. "Once you find something that you really love and it's a very viable career, I think you should really (hit) full gas and send it. Don't be afraid to take risks in your own life."


CNA
2 days ago
- CNA
This American health and fitness coach is bringing a whole new attitude to Singaporean shores
Chicken feet with the in-laws? American Amanda Lim's Singapore story started wild. Now a wellness boss and mom of 3, she's all heart, hustle, and hawker food—and loving every bite.


CNA
2 days ago
- CNA
46:42 Min
Explore Singapore's colourful 'hood, discover vinyl havens and go behind-the-scenes of its deepest train station. Finally, meet an American fitness coach who's become one of the locals. Singapore Hour About the show: Welcome to Singapore Hour: your all-access pass to the city that never stops surprising. From iconic eats to cutting-edge tech, vibrant culture to hidden local gems – we bring you the best of Singapore through the eyes of those who know it best. Whether you're here to travel, work, or just soak up the vibe, Singapore Hour is your definitive guide to what's hot, what's next and what you absolutely can't miss.