"I'M 55… I don't care if it's a milestone age. As long as I'm healthy, I really don't give a s***!" Laughter erupts in my room, and for a moment, it feels as if Kiren Kumari Alt-Amrik Singh is right beside me, sharing jokes over cocktails in a smoky bar late into the night.
We could have been friends, she and I. In another life, we would've been trading secrets and the occasional risqué joke over drinks. The twinkling eyes beneath her oversized spectacles and her unbridled laughter suggest we could be kindred spirits.
Instead, I have to settle for meeting her over a Zoom call. She sits comfortably wrapped in a shawl, her hair cascading freely over her shoulders, with sunlight reflecting on her face in her home where the summer is cool enough to warrant keeping your sweaters still within reach ("It's very cold. It's supposed to be summer but it's not behaving like one!" she protests with a shiver).
Meanwhile, I sit at my desk, peering into my laptop screen late into the humid night, my air conditioner struggling to combat the stifling heat. Evidently, summer in Germany and the eternal summers here in Malaysia are two different things altogether.
Still, she misses home. "I honestly do. I miss the warmth, the smells, the colours, the food… everything!" she exclaims. That's why she opened a Malaysian restaurant, creating a veritable home away from home. "I love Germany, but I'm not particularly fond of the food here," confesses Kiren.
Her goal was to recreate the sense of home, offering Malaysian cuisine in all its delightful complexities and cultural fusions.
Champor was birthed from this desire, reflecting the home she has longed for, over the past two decades. As the first fully Malaysian-concept restaurant in Munich, Germany, she's especially proud of this achievement.
"Guests are naturally curious about Malaysia. Back then, not many knew where it was on the map. I'd ask them, 'Do you know where Thailand is?' and they'd nod. Then I'd ask, 'Do you know where Singapore is?' and they'd nod again. So, I'd say, 'Well, Malaysia is in between!'" she recalls, breaking into laughter.
Kiren exudes a palpable joie de vivre, or what the Germans call lebensfreude, that's impossible to ignore. After 26 years in Germany, she's become thoroughly local, seamlessly interspersing German phrases into her lively conversations in between bursts of raucous laughter.
"You know, I'm really a Malaysian ambassador," she insists, before pointing out: "I have to sell Malaysia first before I sell the food. Back then, the Internet wasn't as prevalent as it is today, so I told them stories about Malaysia, my childhood and the incredible food I grew up with. Malaysian cuisine is a delightful fusion of many influences — Malay, Chinese, Indian, Portuguese, Nyonya and more. It's amazing."
She goes on to describe how she'd paint vivid pictures of Malaysia for her curious guests, sharing anecdotes about her life, the rich tapestry of festivals, and the diverse cultural heritage that defines the nation.
She explained how these influences come together in Malaysian cuisine, creating unique flavours and dishes that are both complex and harmonious.
"Imagine the spices of India blending with the wok hei of Chinese cooking, all balanced with the rich, creamy flavours of Malay cuisine," she says, eyes lighting up. "That's what makes Malaysian food so special. It's a melting pot of cultures, each contributing its own distinct character to the cuisine."
Her storytelling not only educated her guests, but also built a bridge between them and a faraway land, making them eager to experience the tastes of Malaysia firsthand.
EARLY INFLUENCES
"I've always loved food," she reminisces, voice filled with nostalgia. A native of Penang, Kiren credits her culinary influences to the women in her household. "My grandmother, my mother and my nanny Thulasi (whom we called Papa), reigned supreme in the kitchen."
The eldest of three sisters, Kiren would often venture into the kitchen to observe these matriarchs at work. The diverse influences of different regions seamlessly blended into their cooking.
"Papa entered our lives when my mother was pregnant with me. Of South Indian descent, she played a crucial role in raising us girls. Back then, it truly took a village," she recalls fondly.
Her father, Amrik Singh, was a teacher at Han Chiang Independent High School, while her mother, Sushila Devi, served as headmistress at Convent Light Street Secondary School before moving to Convent Pulau Tikus. Her father, a Sikh who practiced Buddhism, was born and raised in Thailand. Her mother was a Hindu Brahmin.
"I came from a family with diverse religious backgrounds and influences, but they never forced any of us to follow their religion," she shares, before adding as an aside: "I was known to be cheeky — never taking 'no' for an answer!"
All these influences were also reflected in the food they ate. "My father cooked as well, alongside my grandmother and Papa. Food was a significant part of our family life," Kiren recalls. "We had neighbours from various races and backgrounds, and we often exchanged dishes with them. This cultural exchange enriched our meals and broadened our palates, exposing us to a variety of flavours and traditions."
She vividly remembers the bustling kitchen, filled with the aromas of different cuisines. "My father's Thai-influenced dishes, my grandmother's traditional recipes and Papa's South Indian specialties created a unique culinary tapestry," she says, adding: "The act of sharing food with our neighbours, whether it was during festivals or just regular days, fostered a sense of community and belonging."
Kiren had other reasons for frequenting the kitchen. "A rather handsome young Chinese boy moved into the house behind mine, when I was 12 or 13. I suddenly became quite domesticated, washing dishes just to catch a glimpse of him!" she admits, chuckling.
Her eyes cloud over as she murmurs: "We were so close. I had the best childhood growing up, and my parents have always been such a profound inspiration to me."
FOOD AMBITIONS
Kiren had always aspired to become an architect. "I loved beautiful buildings and the idea of creating something. I figured architecture was something I could do well," she muses, continuing blithely: "But I didn't pursue architecture. Instead, I graduated from Universiti Sains Malaysia with a degree in mass communications!"
After graduating, she started her career at an international hotel, where she met Andreas Alt, a German expatriate who'd become her husband. "We met at the hotel gym and quickly became fast friends. Eventually, we fell in love!" she recalls, smiling.
Kiren later relocated to Kuala Lumpur for a new public relations role, but the stint was short-lived. She soon returned to Penang, explaining: "My mother missed me terribly, and with my sisters all away, I felt I needed to come back and spend time with her."
She subsequently launched her own advertising company, but it was the opportunity to use a vacant building on Leith Street that inspired Kiren to open a new Indian restaurant. Her mother named it "Jaipur Court", and the iconic restaurant, known for its North Indian cuisine, became a trial by fire for Kiren.
"Every mistake you could possibly make while running a restaurant, I made! I loved food, but I was a novice in the food business," she explains wryly, adding: "I faced many challenges, and it was extremely stressful."
Kiren continues: "I learned that running a restaurant is incredibly hands-on. You can't stay away and expect others to manage it well. However, the lessons I learned from Jaipur Court have been invaluable."
During the economic crisis in Malaysia in the 1990s, her husband, Andreas, had to return to Germany. Much to her mother's disappointment, Kiren followed him.
"Mum wasn't happy when I married Andreas. He's a wonderful person, but she feared he'd take me away. When he had to leave, her fears were realised."
She assured her mother that she'll call her every day from Germany. "The phone bills were astronomical but my husband was very patient," she remarks, chuckling. "I also promised her and dad that I'd always be there for them. I may be in Germany but I was just a phone call away."
Her mother took over Jaipur Court in the hopes that it might bring Kiren back to Malaysia for good. "It ran for another 10 years," she shares quietly, adding: "I'd go home as often as possible and help out at the restaurant. But she eventually realised I wasn't going to return to Jaipur Court…"
RESTAURANT IN MUNICH
Adjusting to a new country was quite a challenge. "...but I was in love, so the difficulty didn't cross my mind!" Kiren exclaims with a laugh, adding: "I told myself I had to make it work. I enjoyed languages, so I picked up German pretty quickly. I lived next door to my in-laws who couldn't speak English, so we connected through shared interests like painting and gardening."
After six years in a corporate role focusing on marketing and branding, Kiren began contemplating the idea of opening a restaurant in Munich. "I sensed there was something lacking in my life. Like I said earlier, the local food scene didn't quite resonate with me and I believed there was a substantial market for truly authentic cuisine," she reflects.
Driven by her passion for food and a desire to fill this perceived gap, Kiren embarked on a new entrepreneurial journey. She saw an opportunity to introduce Munich to the flavours and authenticity of her culinary heritage.
Soon, Champor was born. "I just liked the name," she explains simply, adding: "It describes my food very well — a mixture of traditions and cultures!"
In Champor, Kiren crafted a warm and inviting atmosphere reminiscent of her family home. The walls are adorned with photographs capturing cherished memories, providing a personal touch that resonates with guests. The decor exudes a beautiful homely charm, reflecting Kiren's rich cultural heritage and inviting patrons to experience the warmth of her upbringing.
At Champor, guests can also enjoy a drink inspired by Kiren's father's childhood story from Thailand. As a young boy, he discovered an orphaned juvenile civet cat whom he named Musang. The two became inseparable companions, with Musang perched faithfully on his shoulder wherever he went.
One day, Musang went missing and after searching desperately, Amrik discovered that the mayor's son had captured his beloved pet. He begged his father to ask the mayor to release Musang, suggesting that whoever the civet cat chose — him or the mayor's son — could keep it. Determined to reclaim Musang, Amrik sought the mayor's intervention. In a tense meeting in the village square, Musang's fate hung in the balance.
When released from the cage, Musang instinctively returned to Amrik — jumping and perching on the young boy's shoulder, affirming his belief that true belonging transcends possession. Amrik smiled and said: "When something that belongs to you is free, it'll come back to you!"
Most of Champor's staff members have dedicated over a decade of service to the restaurant. "My oldest cook has been with me for the last 19 years. The one with 20 years had just retired. Our service staff members boast over a decade of tenure," she proudly shares, reiterating: "Champor serves as a wonderful ambassador for Malaysia, reflecting the vibrant multicultural essence that defines our country."
Kiren continues to draw inspiration from her late parents and her beloved nanny, Papa, who remains a spirited presence in her life.
"I still consult Papa on food, and her keen eyes never miss a detail. She offers invaluable advice, suggesting adjustments to ingredients with precision," she shares.
Despite the passing of her parents, Kiren and her sisters have embraced the responsibility of caring for Papa, ensuring she's well looked after. "Papa is a cherished member of our family, and her wisdom and guidance remain integral to Champor's culinary journey," Kiren affirms, reflecting the enduring bond and mutual respect that defines their relationship.
The journey to reach their current position with Champor has been long and challenging. The restaurant is widely recognised among food critics as a prominent establishment in the culinary scene.
Kiren fondly recalls a plethora of parental advice, particularly her mother's wisdom. "My mother Sushila told me that to get ahead in life, you have to learn to accept and adapt — whether it's good times or bad. As you get older, remember to keep doing your best in everything you do."
After a reflective pause, Kiren concludes softly: "Today, I understand what she meant."
For Kiren, Champor is far more than just a restaurant; it's a cherished piece of home where memories are crafted and love is the main ingredient. With each meal served, she shares not just flavours, but a piece of her heart, inviting guests to experience the essence of home and the beauty of shared moments.
In Champor, the legacy of her journey, the spirit of her loved ones and the passion for culinary artistry converge, creating a place where every visit feels like home.