Salt is critical in Asian cuisine, but we’re eating too much of it
Commentary: Salt is critical in Asian cuisine, but we’re eating too much of it
Reducing our sodium intake is a small measure that can save lives and healthcare costs - but Singapore’s hawker food is heavy on salt, says cookbook author Pamelia Chia.
SINGAPORE: Nine in 10 Singaporeans consume too much salt. Surveys conducted from 2021 to 2022 show that the average local consumes 3,620mg of sodium a day, when the recommended daily intake for healthy adults is 2,000mg – or about a teaspoon of salt.
Sodium is an essential nutrient, required by the human body to perform daily functions, and our kidneys are fine-tuned to keep sodium concentrations in the blood within healthy levels. Unfortunately, when there is a chronic excess of sodium in the body, the kidneys can become strained, resulting in raised blood pressure, a precursor to debilitating illnesses such as heart disease and stroke.
A home cook wields total control over the amount of salt added to meals. However, given that a sizable proportion of Singaporeans eat out rather than cook, the main source of sodium in the average Singaporean diet comes not from saltshakers at home, but from external sources.
According to the Health Promotion Board, 31 per cent of meals eaten outside of the home contain more than the daily recommended amount of sodium. In particular, food from hawker centres, which provide Singaporean residents with inexpensive and excellent cuisine, is known to be heavy on salt.
CHALLENGES IN REDUCING SALT INTAKE
With food where salt plays a critical function beyond flavour, reducing salt can be an uphill challenge. For decades, salt has been used in Asian culture as a means of extending the shelf life of food, particularly in a time where refrigerators were not mainstream.
Salted eggs that accompany porridge, preserved radish that stud omelettes, and salted fish that are slipped into curries are all examples of how interwoven preserved foods are in our food culture.
It is not just salinity that salt lends to these foods; salt inhibits bacterial action, thus allowing raw ingredients to be transformed by the alchemy of time. Anyone who has tasted salted egg yolks would be able to attest to how they taste uncannily like cheese, complex and full-flavoured.
Seemingly innocuous spheres of fish paste in bowls of fish ball noodle soup are also major sodium culprits, but it is difficult to lower their salt content without compromising texture. This is because salt allows the muscle proteins of fish to form a gelatinous matrix that gives fish balls their characteristic bounce - just like how salt is essential in producing a hot dog that snaps.
But, for the most part, I believe that the sodium crisis stems from deeply held cultural norms and perceptions. While reading about adobo from the Philippines, I learnt that it is not uncommon to encounter intentionally saltier versions - both home-cooked or commercially sold - so that eaters would be encouraged to eat more rice, thereby stretching the dish between more mouths.
An echo of this resides in economical rice (cai png) stalls in Singapore, where a generous amount of rice is offered to provide bland relief to the intensely flavoured dishes that accompany it. This might have been a way of cooking that began in a time when people did not have much means, but the habit has stuck, and the end result is more carbohydrates and sodium on one’s plate.
While there are health-conscious customers who would request for their dishes to be made with less salt or soy sauce, a challenge to these alternatives being mainstream lies in the public perception that low-sodium products lack flavour.
To some, promoting healthy eating is to the detriment of hawker food culture. The example of pork lard, which has practically been banished from Singapore in the name of healthy eating, comes to mind. Many older Singaporeans that I know have lamented about how difficult it is to find char kway teow with pork lard these days.
For a nation of foodies, placing health benefits before enjoyment of food can be a difficult pill to swallow. I remember once being told by an aunt of mine, amid the ever-changing health news in the media, that life is short and meant to be savoured, not endured.
SODIUM REDUCTION WITHOUT THE FANFARE
Adding an excess of sodium - both in the form of cooking salt and monosodium glutamate (MSG) - is a way to make up for a lack of flavour, or to disguise cheap ingredients. When food is made from quality ingredients and lavished with the luxury of time, it can be flavourful even with minimal seasonings.
Sam Wong from the popular Lucky House Cantonese Private Kitchen, for example, is known for his slow-boiled soups that contain no additional salt or sugar - solely an expression of meaty bones and time.
Given the extraordinarily low price ceilings at hawker centres, it is no wonder that hawkers have to rely heavily on seasonings in order to introduce flavour to their dishes. Educating the public on the true cost of hawker food is key, and a long-term solution to putting a real dent in the sodium crisis.
In the interim, while hawkers can be encouraged to reduce the amount of salt that they add, at the end of the day, they are business owners who practise caution in making tweaks to their offerings that may drive customers away. For this reason, it might be worth providing incentives in the form of rental subsidies for hawkers who choose to provide healthier options.
Education of hawkers across the board would also help, as awareness of sodium’s impact on their customers will then result in change that springs from altruism, rather than a reluctant abiding to stipulations and guidelines. This will allow the level of sodium in our food to be reduced gradually, without fanfare, which might be the least alarming and most effective strategy of all.
Pamelia Chia is the author of the cookbooks Wet Market to Table and Plantasia: A Vegetarian Cookbook Through Asia. She also writes Singapore Noodles, a newsletter with the mission of keeping Singaporean food heritage alive.