You Won’t Find This In KL, You Have To Come To Miri

The dish that anchors it all is the Cincalok Steam Chicken Claypot — steamed chicken blanketed in cincalok sauce, topped with fried dried shrimp, spring onions, and a sunny-side-up egg, served warm in a black claypot at RM16.90.

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There are dishes that tell you exactly where you are.

In Miri, Sarawak’s second largest city, at a modest fusion restaurant tucked into the city, that dish is the Cincalok Steam Chicken Claypot.

Steamed chicken, cincalok sauce, fried dried shrimp, and a sunny-side-up egg — all served over rice in a black claypot that arrives still warm.

It is distinctly, unapologetically Sarawakian.

And according to the man who created it, Jeffery Kee, chef and owner of JJ by Jen Fusion Restaurant in Miri, you will not find this particular version anywhere in Peninsular Malaysia.

And it is not just the chef saying so; ask any foodie who has eaten their way across the Peninsula — over there, cincalok is a condiment, a dipping sauce alongside grilled fish, a splash of funk on the side, never the hero of the dish.

This is my own recipe. I developed it myself.
The dish that started it all — steamed chicken blanketed in cincalok sauce, scattered with fried dried shrimp and spring onions, crowned with a sunny-side-up egg. Kee’s proprietary recipe and the argument for why Miri belongs on the culinary map.

A Cheap Ingredient in Miri, The Most Requested Topping

That, in a single dish, is the argument for making the trip.

The inspiration, Kee admits, was partly practical; cincalok in Miri is abundant and cheap — as little as RM3 per kilogram — and the reason is geography.

The city hugs the South China Sea, where coastal waters yield a steady supply of udang geragau, the tiny krill that are salted and fermented into cincalok.

For generations of Sarawakian households, it has simply always been there — on the shelf, on the table, taken for granted the way only the most essential things are.

Building it into a signature dish was, in part, a way of celebrating what was already there.

The dish has its own following; regular patrons regularly ask for extra cincalok as a topping — and some, he laughs, have asked if they can buy the cincalok sauce on its own.

Kee’s answer is always the same: he would love to, but he only has two hands — 30 staff notwithstanding.

Tucked into a Miri shophouse, JJ by Jen — named after Kee’s business partner — looks unassuming from the street. Inside, the tables are full, and have been since Kee decided to come home.

The Taste That Doesn’t Travel

Cincalok — fermented krill — is a condiment deeply rooted in the culinary traditions of Sarawak and Sabah.

It is pungent, funky, and intensely flavoured.

Fermentation breaks proteins into glutamates, and glutamates mean umami — the same reason you can’t stop eating aged Parmesan or Japanese ramen.

Kee just figured out how to put that into a RM16.90 claypot.

In the right hands, it transforms a simple steamed chicken rice into something with genuine character and a sense of place — and this is precisely the kind of food that tourism is built around.

Not a landmark you can photograph, but a flavour you cannot replicate elsewhere.

At RM16.90, it is possibly the most underpriced reason to book a flight to Sarawak. The cincalok sauce — built from a raw ingredient that costs RM3 a kilogram, then cooked down into something far greater than its price suggests — is the point of the whole plate. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

The Chef Behind the Claypot

Kee is the eldest of five children in a Foochow family, and in Miri, that lineage carries weight — the Foochow Chinese, originally from Fujian province, were among the earliest Chinese settlers in the region, arriving in the early 20th century and building much of the commercial and cultural fabric that the city still carries today.

He is 37, softly spoken, and tells his own story without embellishment; he wanted to be a policeman.

“But I could earn much more being a chef,” he said, with a smile that suggests the uniform was never really his destiny.

He started in 2017 at the PJ Hilton in Kuala Lumpur, earning RM600 a month as a part-time kitchen assistant.

From there, a Chinese restaurant in Seremban, then the pull of home brought him back to Miri, where he joined Hotel Imperium, and it was here that the bookings arrived — the kind that come with security details and advance notice.

Kee cooked for former Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak, the late Sarawak Chief Minister Tan Sri Adenan Satem, and the current Sarawak Premier, Tan Sri Abang Johari Tun Openg.

He mentions this the way most people mention the weather.

Kee holds up a photograph taken during his time at Hotel Imperium — a younger chef, standing beside the then-prime minister Najib. It is a quiet reminder of how far a RM600-a-month kitchen apprentice can travel. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

A Table for Everyone

JJ by Jen is pork-free — a deliberate decision that has made the restaurant a genuine meeting point in a city that runs on oil, gas, and diversity.

The menu moves between Chinese, Malay, and Western without apology.

The menu beyond the claypot holds its own. There is a Kimchi Sliced Beef Claypot, a Pan-Seared Salmon with Chef’s Special Pumpkin Sauce, and a Salted Egg Deep Fried Golden Crispy Chicken served with salted egg yolk sauce and fries. Then there is the star of the burger section — the Burger Banjir, a chef’s signature lineup that includes a Salted Egg Crispy Chicken Burger and a Homemade Beef Patty Burger, both arriving loaded with sunny-side-up egg, shredded potatoes, and garlic butter.

And for those who prefer something more substantial, the Lamb Shoulder, prepared two ways.

Kee calls it a hybrid; it is, more accurately, a biography — every kitchen he has worked in, every influence he has absorbed, plated and served in the city he came home to.

His customers are of all races; Malay families from across the border in Brunei make the trip, and oil and gas workers from the offshore platforms find their way here.

Locals come back on weekends when the place fills up and the energy shifts.

On any given evening at JJ by Jen, the room tells its own story — locals, Bruneian visitors, and oil and gas workers sharing tables in a restaurant that was never meant to be just one thing. (Pix: Fernando Fong)

This writer visited JJ by Jen as part of a media familiarisation trip hosted by the Sarawak Tourism Board (STB).