From sambal to swank: Why a Malaysian food influencer’s upmarket move struck a nerve

KUALA LUMPUR – When one of Malaysia’s most relatable food influencers Khairul Aming announced plans for a new upmarket Malay restaurant in Kuala Lumpur with prices that would not be “friendly to all”, the social media backlash was swift.

“I can’t offer cheap prices that are ‘friendly to all’, honestly speaking,” he said of the RM4 million (S$1.3 million) restaurant to be located in the capital city’s historic Kampung Baru Malay enclave, a stone’s throw from the iconic Petronas Twin Towers.

In an Instagram post on the same day, the 33-year old showed viewers how more than RM500,000 was spent on kitchen equipment alone.

Almost immediately, social media lit up with criticism – much of it from anonymous netizens and internet trolls – questioning the high prices and accusing him of losing touch with ordinary Malaysians. He has 6.3 million followers on TikTok, 4.4 million on Instagram, and inspired several Facebook fan pages – with one account having nearly half a million members.

“Boycott!!!” declared TikTok user NobodyCare, comparing Mr Khairul’s planned eatery with social enterprise eatery Kesum, linked to former economy minister Rafizi Ramli, which sells meals for under RM5.

“Those who want to eat here (at the new restaurant) can start saving money, can go in 2028,” wrote another commentor on TikTok, EyLa Famina.

The pushback was less about whether Malay food deserves fine-dining prices, some observers say, and more about the clash between Mr Khairul’s carefully cultivated image as a humble champion of everyday Malay fare, and his decision to step out of his comfort zone into an exclusive, reservation-only dining space.

That image is now being tested.

A brand built on affordability

A mechanical engineering graduate whose real name is Khairul Amin Kamarulzaman, the influencer built his following over a decade by sharing quick-and-easy cooking videos online, before striking commercial success with his Sambal Nyet Berapi condiment in 2021.

The casual “Hey, what’s up guys?” refrain from the opening of his cooking videos set the easy-going, informal tone for his relatable, approachable persona.

He built a following online with quick-and-easy cooking videos on social media, such as the “30 Hari 30 Resepi” (30 Days 30 Recipes) series during the Ramadan fasting month. Recipes like fried fish with bird’s eye chilli, daging belengas (spicy stir-fried beef) and omelette in creamy santan gravy won fans with their simplicity and familiarity.

His Sambal Nyet Berapi, priced at around RM20 for a 180g bottle, became a viral hit. The fiery condiment, a must-have in many Malaysian households, was widely seen as affordable, true to his everyman image and handy enough to take along while travelling.

That product, along with Dendeng Nyet Berapi (spiced beef jerky) and Rendang Nyet Berapi (spicy rendang), propelled his business to RM42 million in annual sales in 2024, up 110 per cent from the previous year.

Named Rembayung, his first physical restaurant will seat up to 250 diners. No walk-ins. Rembayung is a classical Malay word that describes the gentle glow of the sky at dusk.

While Mr Khairul has not revealed the menu, expectations are high, given his foodie following.

“After 10 years in the online world, I’m finally ready to step into the offline world,” said Mr Khairul in an Instagram video on Dec 9 showing work in progress at the two-storey, semi-glasshouse restaurant built on an 8,000 sq ft plot of land.

In any case, it was Mr Khairul’s candour about his new restaurant’s posh pricing, in particular his comments about not being “people-friendly”, which drew online fire.

“To build that environment alone costs millions of ringgit (on construction). Running the place also involves high costs: There are 12 air-conditioning units, and (salaries for) 50 local staff, plus electricity and water,” he said on TikTok in early December.

Responding to the online reaction to Rembayung, Mr Khairul wrote on his Threads account on Dec 11: “I appreciate all the feedback, but I just ask for some space to try running this (restaurant) business first. This is my attempt to grow local F&B offline... Please allow me to try.”

He did not respond to The Straits Times’ request for comments.

More than a price debate

As online commentary quickly veered into well-trodden territory about whether Malay food should be expensive, observers say that kind of framing misses the point.

The issue isn’t really about Malay cuisine going upscale, they say, but about expectations people have of Mr Khairul himself.

Malaysians love to eat, and diners have no issue with yet another addition to the culinary scene, be it upscale or down-home cuisine.

For years, the influencer has been perceived as humble and relatable, noted Dr Mazlan Ali, director of the Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities at Universiti Teknologi Malaysia.

“When prices are high and dining is reservation-only, some people feel uncomfortable. It clashes with the image they had of him.”

Mr Aziff Azuddin, senior research director at think-tank Iman Research, agreed, saying that Mr Khairul is “one of the more successful contemporary Malay entrepreneurs, likeable and well-accepted by the Malay community”.

“So the idea of him opening a restaurant at the level and price point of (a celebrity like) Chef Wan likely went against people’s perception of his accessible, everyman image.” Chef Wan, whose real name is Redzuawan Ismail, is a Malaysian celebrity chef and media personality who co-founded a successful restaurant business in the country that has since been sold.

Why Malay food pricing draws scrutiny

The backlash against Mr Khairul’s culinary ambitions has sparked a broader discourse about pricing and perception.

Malay cuisine in Malaysia has long been associated with everyday, casual eating: snack kiosks manned by makciks (Malay for aunties), neighbourhood nasi campur (mixed rice and dishes) stalls, and authentic dishes at celebrations and community gatherings.

A plate of rice with mixed dishes at a food stall typically costs around RM10 to RM20. In contrast, diners don’t even blink at RM100 dishes at Japanese or Italian restaurants. That creates a mental “anchor” linking Malay food to low price expectations, observers say.

Popular Malay dishes such as rendang or nasi lemak are deeply woven into daily life – cooked at home, sold at stalls, and served at weddings, making the labour behind them easy to overlook.

Ms Lissa Yeoh, director of long-established Malay restaurant Bijan, told ST that this familiarity works against Malay chefs and eateries.

“Many Malay dishes take hours, sometimes days, to prepare... but that effort is often invisible to diners,” she pointed out.

“If a Western restaurant charges RM100 for a dish, people tend to accept it as normal. If a Malay restaurant does the same, the reaction is often: ‘Why so expensive? I can get this for RM20 at a stall.’”

Growing market for elevated Malay cuisine

While traditional Malay food remains abundantly affordable in casual settings, there are a growing number of acclaimed Malay fine-dining restaurants in Malaysia, particularly in KL.

Bijan, a pioneer in the field, which opened its doors in 2003, is still going strong, serving authentic Malay dishes in a refined setting.

Newer entrants, such as Hidang, Cili Kampung and Lado, have shown that there is indeed demand for elevated Malay cuisine.

One of Cili Kampung’s outlets at Suria KLCC, beneath KL’s Twin Towers, is often packed even on weekdays.

In the early days, said Ms Yeoh, Malay food wasn’t part of the “nice restaurant” option, and diners often defaulted to Western or Japanese.

“We wanted to show that Malay food could be done properly, with care, in a beautiful setting,” she said. She sees having more upmarket Malay restaurants as a form of affirmation, saying: “Honestly, we see it as validation. For a long time, it felt quite lonely doing this. Seeing more people believe in Malay food and invest in it properly is very encouraging,” she added.

Dr Lau Kong Cheen, an associate professor of marketing at the Singapore University of Social Sciences, told ST that it is a different matter in Singapore, where “there are no roadside stalls”.

“In Singapore, Malay food is sold in hawker centres or food courts alongside other cuisines. It does not create the same expectation that it must be cheaper,” he added.

For Mr Khairul, the challenge now is not so much culinary, but communicative, as netizens come to terms with the fact that a familiar accessible figure is no longer speaking only to the masses.

Whether Rembayung succeeds may depend less on price than on whether ordinary folk can reconcile the down-to-earth influencer they follow on their phones with the restaurateur he is set on becoming.

Amid the online backlash, there has been a generous helping of support for Mr Khairul’s new venture, with some netizens saying they can’t wait to visit his new restaurant when it opens.

Swich Cafe, a well-known speciality cake store based in Selangor, commenting on Mr Khairul’s recent Threads, said: “You are a national treasure. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

A Threads user, learnwithceleste.va, wrote: “Never tasted your sambal... But, I admire you and the way you do business. When you announced Rembayung, all I felt was pride... When I read the negativity, it’s just baffling.”

Bijan’s Ms Yeoh told ST: “With Mr Khairul’s following and media presence, Rembayung will definitely do well. The early days will have teething problems; that’s normal. Just something to watch as his business expands is making sure the food quality stays consistent. I think he has already proven himself to be a dynamic entrepreneur who is very relatable. We wish him all success.”

Another Threads user, n.andryana10, urged the budding restaurateur to go further afield, saying: “Come to SG (Singapore) to open your restaurant... We just want good quality food with good ambience.”