Kuching in Sarawak, Malaysia wasn’t a place I ever expected to visit. I was invited to race at the Sarawak International Dragon Boat Festival and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
Truth be told, until recently I’m not sure I could have placed Sarawak on a map, let alone know it was on the island of Borneo. It wasn’t a destination I’d been carrying with me, it arrived by accident. Only later would I realize that this unplanned stop would quietly reconnect me. It brought back something I’d been missing in the way I travel and experienced food.
As I began researching the food culture of the area, Sarawak laksa was mentioned again and again. Further investigation led me to Anthony Bourdain’s Borneo episodes of “No Reservations” and “Parts Unknown” where he famously refers to this laksa as “breakfast of the gods”. In these episodes filmed in Sarawak, he visits the same spot for breakfast, surrounded by locals, and treats this bowl of laska not as a curiosity but as a key to understanding the place. In true Bourdain fashion, it wasn’t framed as exotic or rare, just essential.
“In Anthony I trust”, so those scenes sent me seeking out Sarawak laksa while I was in Kuching. The shows led me to Choon Hui Cafe, a tiny, unassuming road-side kopitam with none of the usual signals of culinary fame. No photos of Anthony on the wall. No nod to its place in food television history. Absolutely no mention of Bourdain. Just locals quietly eating breakfast in a place entirely unconcerned with outside validation.
Like many kopitams, Choon Hui Cafe is home to several small vendors, each specializing in their own dish. We were sat (at the same table as Anthony), not understanding how to order specifically, but the staff were extremely friendly and helped to get our order in.
The laksa stall has been serving its version for decades. The people worked with an easy warmth, proudly sending bowl after bowl across their cart to a room that clearly knew exactly what it had come for. It was the kind of place where you feel looked after without fuss. It’s a reminder that travel is often less about the places themselves and more about the people who bring them to life. Food is one of the easiest ways to find that connection where you simply sit down and eat with locals.
Sarawak laksa was immediately distinctive. The bowl arrived steaming, carrying the fragrance of spices and coconut. The flavours were deeper and more curry-forward than the Singapore versions I know, with depth of layered spice, gentle heat, and a savoury intensity softened by coconut milk. The rice vermicelli, shredded chicken, prawns, omelette ribbons, and a squeeze of calamansi brought the bowl together in a way that felt both generous and grounding. A gentle addition of chili sauce delivered a wake up to my senses better than any sip of coffee would.
Following Bourdain’s lead, I also ordered a plate of popiah from another stall in the kopitam. Malaysian popiah are fresh spring rolls wrapped in a delicate wheat skin and filled with vegetables, egg, and sweet-savory sauce. It arrived neatly cut into pieces, soft rather than crispy. Its light freshness balanced the deeper, curry-rich flavors of the laksa.
Eating this meal in the morning made perfect sense. It was warming but not heavy. Comforting without being dull. As I watched the rhythm of the café, it became clear that understanding a place often begins with what people eat for breakfast. This was food meant to sustain daily life.
What surprised me most was how much that simple bowl of soup gave back. In the past many years, I’ve caught myself approaching food-focused travel as a series of lists with reservations to secure, dishes to tick off, and places to “do.” Sitting in Choon Hui Cafe, that urgency fell away. This felt like a return to something simpler. I was present, paying attention and letting a place reveal itself without forcing it.
That quiet reconnection to food, to travel, and to the way Anthony Bourdain taught so many of us to see the world arrived at a moment when I needed it more than I realized. Watching the rhythm of breakfast in that small kopitiam, I was reminded that it was Bourdain who first sparked my wanderlust for food travel more than twenty years ago. In this new chapter of my life, I am drawn to travel differently. I’m allowing myself to slow down, pay closer attention, and allow moments of simple appreciation like this one to take their time.
Kuching may never be the reason you book a trip. But if you find yourself there, follow the morning crowd to Choon Hui Cafe and order the laksa. Sometimes the bowls you find almost by accident are the ones that remind you why you travel in the first place.
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