A Recipe for Sambal Halloumi Morning Buns
Sama-sama, but different
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Hey everyone,
This is me once again apologizing for being so on-and-off the past month or so on Substack, but I’m happy to report that my first art pop-up at Chicago AAPI Events’ “Nourish” show exceeded my expectations. Oh man, what an electric day. I met a great group of fellow Asian-American creators, made some great sales, drank my weight’s worth in complimentary bubble tea (thanks Uni Uni)—and most importantly, met some of you guys who kindly came out to say hi. I spent most of June weirdly jittery and high-strung in anticipation for my first time selling art in-person—but seeing everybody’s kind, earnest support for the things I’ve put out has encouraged me in ways I’ll never be able to articulate. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I spent most of this past week still recovering from that adrenaline high; this certainly won’t be the last time I pop up again. That said, I’m looking forward to steering my focus back on the newsletter and hopping back on a consistent dispatch schedule. Without further ado …
In recent years, chef Julie Lin has found herself connecting with her mixed-race heritage more confidently than ever before. In fact, it’s through the daily rhythms of her restaurant and the process of ideating her recipes where she’s only felt that relationship strengthen—and where food solidifies its role in helping her understand herself. Julie’s mother hails from Malaysia and is Nyonya, while her Scottish father was proudly born and raised in Glasgow. Much like her identity, her food is a unique blend of stories, ingredients, flavors, and traditions that simply can’t be put into a box—and it’s Julie’s wholehearted embrace of two distinct places that have had an equal amount of importance and influence in her life that inspired her debut cookbook, “Sama Sama” (a phrase that translates to “same same”).
A good handful of recipes in “Sama Sama” are bonafide Malaysian classics (think char kuay teow, nasi goreng, and satay), but take a closer look and you’ll find signs of her candidly multicultural, mixed identity permeating through. Step into Julie’s world, where sesame shrimp toast is made with thick-cut slices of Scottish Mothers Pride bread, stale croissants are turned into a dreamy pudding laced with kaya and raspberries, char siu is turned into sausage rolls, and cheese toasties are stuffed with tamarind onions and chile chutney. Woven throughout the recipes are personal essays from Julie about growing up between cultures, the sometimes-awkward-sometimes-joyful intersections of identity, and the quiet ways food became a bridge between worlds. It may not be a traditionally Malaysian cookbook, but neither was her upbringing.
“The comfort I’ve drawn from amalgamating knowledge of the different cultures and cuisines from which I draw my heritage has culminated into an acceptance of something new,” Julie writes in her introduction. “And perhaps it doesn’t follow the strict rules of a singular culinary identity of each place, but the joy in finding new flavors and gaining an acceptance of sitting somewhere in the middle, has given me a better understanding of how to fuse the knowledge of two different places.”
These morning buns are straight from “Sama Sama’s” “Authentically In-Between” chapter, and are the brainchild of Julie’s mother—who had the kind of crafty ingenuity when it came to substituting ingredients upon her arrival in the UK to create an equally delicious range of mish-mash dishes.
“These dishes may not mirror Malaysia’s flavors exactly, but they carry the essence and adaptability of our culture,” Julie shares. “Innovation is born from necessity, and some of the finest dishes have been conceived through substitution. What’s more authentic than making the most of what’s available to us?”
Here, sliced halloumi is marinated in sambal belacan, a Malaysian condiment made with fresh chiles and toasted belacan (shrimp paste), until it soaks up all of its flavor. The runny yolk of the fried egg is what finishes it off. This is a ridiculously simple recipe, especially if you’ve already got a big batch of sambal on hand. I’ve included Julie’s recipe for sambal below if you’re feeling particularly ambitious. Otherwise, there are great sambals to be found at your local Asian supermarket.
Paid subscribers, be sure to look out for a bonus recipe from “Sama Sama” coming your way this Friday. ♥
Serves 2
1 (250 gram) block of halloumi
2 tablespoons sambal belacan, plus a little extra to serve (recipe below)
½ teaspoon lime juice
Vegetable oil, for frying
2 eggs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper (optional) to serve
2 sesame brioche buns
Kewpie mayonnaise
1 ripe avocado, peeled, stoned, and sliced
Slice the halloumi into ½-inch slices, coat them in the sambal and lime juice, and leave to marinate at room temperature for at least 30 minutes.
Heat some vegetable oil in a pan over medium heat, then fry the halloumi slices in batches until golden on both sides.
In a separate pan over medium heat, add enough oil to cover the base. Once the oil is very hot, crack the eggs into the pan. Fry until the skirts of the eggs are golden and crispy, then season the still-running yolks with some salt and pepper.
When ready to serve, split and toast the buns. Smear one side of the buns with Kewpie mayonnaise and the other side with some extra sambal. Fill the buns with the avocado slices, fried sambal halloumi and crispy fried eggs, and serve.
Sambal Belacan
10 ½ ounces (300 grams) dried red chiles
1 tablespoon belacan
1 fresh long red chile, deseeded and finely chopped
30 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
3 lemongrass stalks, cleaned and trimmed
⅔ cup neutral oil (use an oil with a high burning temperature, such as rice bran or canola)
¼ cup coconut oil
⅔ cup white sugar, or to taste
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
Begin by soaking the dried red chiles in warm water until they soften, which usually takes 20-30 minutes. Once softened, drain the chiles and remove the seeds.
Meanwhile, heat a dry pan over low heat. Add the belacan and toast until it becomes fragrant. Set aside.
In a blender or food processor, combine the soaked red chiles, chopped fresh chile, and garlic cloves. Finely chop the lower, softer parts of the lemongrass stalks and add those too. Blend to a fine paste. If needed, add a splash of water to assist the blender.
Heat both oils in a wok or large pan over medium heat. Once the oil is hot enough, carefully add the chile paste to the pan. It might splatter, so be cautious and consider using a splash guard. Stir in the toasted balacan and cook the mixture, stirring frequently, until the paste darkens to a ruby red color and the oil begins to separate from the mixture, about 10-15 minutes.
Add the sugar and salt to the paste, then continue to cook while stirring for another 5-10 minutes. The sambal should thicken and become fragrant.
Taste the sambal and adjust the seasoning with more salt or sugar, as needed, but be mindful that the sambal will become sweeter once it cools down.
Remove the sambal from the heat and allow it to cool to room temperature. Once cooled, transfer the sambal to a sealed sterilized jar or airtight container. The sambal can be stored in the fridge for up to a month.
Recipes adapted from “Sama Sama: Comfort Food From My Mixed Malaysian Kitchen” by Julie Lin. Copyright © 2025. Used with permission of Interlink Books. All rights reserved.