George Town is an aged British colonial outpost isolated on Malaysia’s Penang Island, a far eastern port which competed as a trading centre with Singapore and Hong Kong. I hadn’t intended to go to Penang but a colleague mentioned a Chinese chef known for concocting fish head curry. The temptation was strong bait so I changed plans and headed to the Island’s Chinese jetties. 

True to form the town is crumbling around the edges while developers peck at properties ripe for development. Meantime the old Empire’s character is embedded in the architecture of George Town’s hub where more than 450 restaurants and cafes cater for the multifaceted tastes of travellers who saunter around quirky 200 year old streets.

I was curious, feeling it was unlikely a fish head curry could be a legendary dish in the heart of the old British Empire. After all my mother made the world’s best Yorkshire Pudding (and she was an English country girl).

The lively colonial enclave is incongruously topped off with an unappetising 7 Eleven store situated at the junction of two arterial streets, Chulia and Love Lane. If I walked to Love Lane from my no-star hotel in Muntri Street and turned left I’d be outside the Catholic Church of Assumption.  Had I turned right I’d find myself outside another exalted establishment advertising ‘Free Beer, Free Hugs … and Lap Dancing,’ Hmmm! 

These assurances highlight George Town’s eclectic nature which has no problem catering for all tastes. Malaysia’s second largest city, established in 1786 has now earned an indisputable claim to fame: The reputation of being the gourmet centre of South East Asia. 

An amusing example is that travellers from England’s football hub, Manchester, can travel halfway around the world to be able to enjoy a munch at The Old Trafford Hamburger joint located conveniently closely to the lap dancing emporium.

Malaysia hosts 32 million tourists a year and it takes a lot more than fish, cheesecake, the aroma of fresh bread and ‘burgers to keep them contentedly fed even if free beer and lap dancing is on the menu.

I turned left when I reached Chulia, a street whose shaded arched walkways are used, among others, as workshops by motor cycle mechanics, hairdressers and opticians. I wandered from the town’s centre, tempted along the way by the aroma of freshly baked Chelsea buns as well as Yeap Noodles offering bowls of clam soup among at least 40 other dishes.

But it takes about fifteen minutes of captivated strolling along a street named after India’s Chula dynasty to reach Weld Quay where Chinese clans constructed jetties as homes in order to avoid paying land taxes. There were nine jetties named after the clans. 

I had been told to search for the legendary Fish Head curry among these jetties.

In recent years the jetties: One, Lim, Chew, Tan, Lee, New and Yea, were saved from demolition when UNESCO listed George Town as a world heritage site in 2008. The listing was too late to save a couple, Pen Aun and Koay which were demolished in about 2006.

There are hand painted signs on most buildings mainly in Hainanese, a Chinese dialect used throughout Malaysia. The migration of Hainanese to Malaysia is reported to have started at the turn of the 19th century, together with their renowned culinary expertise.  

I was dawdling along the old teak planked jetties in the evening, feeling a frisson of adventure, when I spotted a large red sign. Bold writing stood out in the twilight saying in an English translation, complete with a picture, “Hainanese Curry Fish Head. ” 

Bingo!

It wasn’t the most inviting place I’ve dropped into. A scattering of tables and blue plastic stacking chairs were mostly empty. Those that were occupied had a few gents chatting loudly, hands waving in emphasis and bare feet resting on nearby seats.

A couple of slowly rotating ceiling fans failed to clear the heavy blue mist of cigarette smoke pierced by eyes which carefully dissected this foreigner. The chatting stopped but when I was considered harmless continued in the cloud. Like me they were casually dressed in worn shorts and old T shirts.

The cheeky faced Chinese chef, dressed in a bright yellow T shirt, frayed blue denim shorts and a baseball cap, worn back to front, appeared from a tiny kitchen area and contemplated me. I’m not gifted with the Hainanese language but he finally said in persuasive English delivered with a  supercharged smile  “I am known for my fish head curry.” I gave an enthusiastic nod, matched his smile and sat at a clapped-out table which he gestured towards. 

I felt at home listening to action in the kitchen, the chopping, banging, clanging of pans as well as drifting scents of blended spices. Half an hour later I was presented with a large brown pottery bowl brimming with curry but no sign of fish. A plate of white rice and a glass of iced black tea completed the deal.

My list of ‘gourmet’ feasts includes crocodile (saltwater and freshwater – it’s true, they do taste like chicken!) snakes of various sizes, bits of a large goanna (big Australian lizards), kangaroo (especially the tails), emu and camel. Oh yes – and bush turkey. And in some places the runners-up in cock fights wound up in soup. 

I have to boast I can use chopsticks reasonably well however the dish arrived with a fork and spoon (Remind me to tell you a joke!). Both were remarkably useful. I scooped some of the curry, letting it cool. The first taste confirmed the sales pitch: This modest chef is world class!

I enjoy cooking a curry, grinding and chopping various ingredients. The difference between fresh and prepared ingredients marks the difference between average and sublime. This guy was Michelin star quality without the bullshit.

I’m no gourmet but I know what I like. It took me about half an hour to wade through the deep bowl recognising onions, tomato, ginger, garlic, turmeric and obviously chilli though it wasn’t overloaded. There must have been other spices and herbs. As I continued ladling and savouring, a large fish head was revealed, as though from a drained swamp. He (or she) looked very grumpy but, given the circumstances, could be forgiven. The flesh of sea bass, particularly the morsels tucked away in the head, is delicious, firm and juicy. I impressed myself with my exploration of the nooks and crannies of the skull which, with some ceremonial respect, I’d hauled onto the plate next to the rice. 

I left the fat lips until last, a wistful kiss goodbye to a meal I’d come to look upon as a friend.

Oh! I forgot to mention cheesecake. That story can come later!

Story and photographs © Roger Garwood 2025

Fish Head Curry Recipe : There are many fish head curry recipes available. The recipe below a classic version by Suriani Staal Mohamad featured in Cook Pad <https://cookpad.com/us/recipes/13337786-fish-head-curry-malaysia-original-style>