Makan Written in the Dark? Singapore Chef Faces Plagiarism Allegations
What went down
Picture a London‑born chef pulling out a brand‑new cookbook, only to find it suddenly blanked from every shelf. That’s the cheeky headline for Elizabeth Haigh, the culinary star who was recently slapped with a plagiarism warning.
Her title, Makan, was launched in May, but the very next month, Singaporean author Sharon Wee stepped up with a damning claim: Haigh has copied, or in worst case, paraphrased sections of Wee’s 2012 book Growing Up In A Nonya Kitchen. Bloomsbury, the book’s UK publisher, decided to pull the book from circulation with immediate effect.
The claim in the spotlight
- Wee, 51, fired off a public statement on Instagram saying she was “distressed to discover that certain recipes and other content from my book had been copied or paraphrased without my consent.”
- She singled out a few recipes that match up “too closely” with her own.
- After she brought it to Bloomsbury’s attention, the publisher quickly moved to withdraw the title, with Wee applauding the swift response.
Meet the chefs
Elizabeth Haigh has a grocery‑list‑of‑adventures that reads almost like a travelogue: Born in Singapore, raised in England, she runs a Michelin‑starred kitchen for a heel‑play in Hackney before opening a tiny kopitiam in the Borough Market. She’s celebrated by the likes of Nigella Lawson and even made Auntie Liz on the viral Uncle Roger channel.
Sharon Wee, on the other hand, spent a decade painstakingly wrestling her late mother’s recipes into a neat 127‑page cookbook—a love letter to Singapore’s Nonya kitchen.
Why it matters
Both authors harken back to their mothers as the ultimate inspiration, but the procedural differences are worth noting: Haigh pulls the recipes from her mother’s head on a sand‑paper sheet, while Wee spent years canvassing ingredients and navigating shortages back in the States.
Quick takeaways
- Bloomsbury Absolute, quick on the back of it, pulled the book from shelves—still a copy hangs on Amazon.
- No direct evidence of how the similarities play out, but the damage is enough to halt sales.
- It’s a reminder: authenticity matters, especially in a field where recipes are as much a cultural inheritance as a culinary skill.
What you’ll have to do going forward is stop fantasizing about a “chef with a supernatural knack” and start diving into the messy, colourful reality of cooking—olive oil to be honest.
<img alt="" data-caption="Elizabeth Haigh (pictured) opened a Singaporean-style kopitiam, Mei Mei, in London's Borough Market in 2019.
PHOTO: Facebook/Mei Mei, Instagram/Mei Mei in London” data-entity-type=”file” data-entity-uuid=”b72e3a70-fd67-4cf0-80b1-2e0e6a496e47″ src=”/sites/default/files/inline-images/md_collagemeimei_121021.jpg”/>
Remembering the Flavors of Singapore
Visiting Singapore felt like stepping into a living cookbook, especially when a 90‑year‑old grandaunt on her dad’s side offered her a taste of satay babi. The dish—tender pork strips sautéed in a bold coconut gravy—was a reminder that some culinary secrets are only whispered into the kitchen, not written in neat lines.
Who Is Behind the Allegations?
- Wee: The culinary storyteller whose family recipes became the heart of the controversy.
- Haigh: The author of Makan Bear, the book that supposedly borrowed too much from Wee’s family lore.
- Bloomsbury: The publisher who pulled the title because of “rights issues” but refused to dish out more details.
When a journalist reached out, Wee was tight‑lipped about legal boundaries. The author hasn’t commented, yet the public’s curiosity is still simmering—kind of like a wok that keeps sizzling even when not being watched.
The Recipe Riddle
Makan Bear contains several passages that echo Wee’s story about classic meals: from otak‑otak to sweet potatoes drizzled in ginger syrup. Some lines feel familiar—almost a taste test of originality.
Laughing About “Agak‑Agak” (The “Guesstimate” Cooking Method)
Haigh’s Whispered Wisdom: “Cooking is an art that vibes with all senses—smell, sight, touch, hearing, and of course taste. We couldn’t save each step on paper, so we gravitated toward a thrilling mix of intuition and experience. That’s why my adaptation felt so… gamble‑like.”
Wee’s Echo: “We, as Nyonas, always let the aroma guide us. We gauge colour, scent, heat, rhythm, and most crucially, taste. Recipes weren’t bullet‑pointed; they were raked into the kitchen’s soul.”
Bottom Line
Both voices agree that the culinary legacy breathes through improvisation rather than rigid notation. The saga reminds us that some pan ingredients—and memories—are best left unboxed, with a pinch of mystery to keep the plates blessed.
<img alt="" data-caption="Elizabeth Haigh, a former MasterChef contestant, was born in Singapore and raised in England.
PHOTO: Instagram/the_modernchef” data-entity-type=”file” data-entity-uuid=”e3340bb5-b078-4567-813d-47d23f334859″ src=”/sites/default/files/inline-images/md_elizabethhaigh_121021.jpg”/>
Plagiarism Party: Singapore’s Food Scene in the Spotlight
Recently, the culinary world in Singapore has been buzzing with whispers that a popular cookbook writer, Haigh, might have been snatching recipes and designs from a few local food veterans. Here’s the lowdown on the headlines and who’s calling out the copy‑cat.
“Copying Kettle” – Rasa Malaysia vs. Makan
Malaysian foodie Low Bee Yinn of Rasa Malaysia ran into a showdown when a commenter finger‑pointed that her ngoh hiang recipe looked suspiciously like one from Makan. The twist? The Makan recipe was originally crafted by Singaporean blogger Danielle back in 2010 and, as it turns out, Makan’s little page has since vanished.
Low’s attempts to get the original author or clear the air got stuck in a wall of silence: no replies from Bloomsbury, no trace of Danielle. A side‑by‑side comparison shows two identical ingredient lists and a shared method for rolling the sticky sweet rice cake.
Spice Shop Takedown – Anthony The Spice Maker
- Discovered that two of Mei Mei’s spicy ranges (Meat Rendang and Curry Powder Singapura) bore a striking resemblance to Anthony Leow’s own blends.
- The product tags, the usage instructions, even the gram counts were almost 80 % identical—just a few tweaks to keep things legal.
- Leow Min Ling, the spice‑maker’s daughter, says she was coy about the issue initially, hoping Haigh might let things slide. The sting felt hard enough that she decided to step in.
- The spice blends are no longer stocked on Mei Mei’s online store.
Recipe Rumble – Christopher & Terry Tan
Echoing the plagiarism drama, Singaporean cookbook author Christopher Tan highlighted classics from his dad, Terry Tan’s Straits Chinese Cookbook (1981) on Instagram, warning, “If you read Makan…he who has eyes, let him see.”
Sample recipes from the timeless book show people carefully heating oil, searing pork, and seasoning just right. Haigh’s version of the same famous dish—tauk yu bak—mirrored the instructions step for step.
Reflections from the Word‑Press Front
Daryl Lim Wei Jie, 30, who co‑edited the anthology Food Republic, has been chasing the plagiarism chatter. He says he’s not personally acquainted with either Wee or Haigh, only picked up the threads through social media.
“I’d love to cheer Singapore on as proud as a local!” he says. “But seeing this story unravel—calls for copying recipes, memories, anecdotes—it’s a real bummer.”
Bottom Line
When tasty dishes and tantalizing spices start to sound like déjà vu, it’s a sign that originality might be taking a backseat. The allegations raise serious questions about respecting creativity, whether it’s a recipe, a spice blend, or a cherished family story. While the Holy Trinity of originality might still hold a strong place in Singapore’s food culture, these controversies remind us that everyone should keep their kitchen notebooks and memory jars far from the “copy” button.
