
For Chef Abby Lee, cooking is memory work where inherited recipes, instinct, and fearless flavours come together on the plate.
Chef Abby Lee didn’t always plan on becoming a chef. In fact, she was once an economics student in England, stuck in a university course that felt more obligation than calling. Cooking began as a quiet rebellion—meals prepared for friends, dinners fuelled by curiosity and care. Somewhere between feeding people and watching them light up, she realised food gave her something numbers never did: purpose.
That realisation changed everything. Abby left her degree behind, enrolled in cooking school, and spent years honing her craft in Italian kitchens. But even as her technical skills sharpened, something felt off. Cooking Western food exclusively didn’t fully make sense for someone who had grown up between Sarawak, Penang, and Singapore. It took a global pause—lockdown, and a return home after 15 years—for clarity to arrive.
Back in Southeast Asia, Abby reconnected with the flavours she grew up with. She cooked alongside family, relearned inherited recipes, and rediscovered how deeply food and culture were intertwined. The most influential teacher wasn’t a celebrity chef or culinary textbook, but her aunt—the keeper of her grandmother’s recipes, the one who cooked by feel rather than formula. “Taste as you go,” her aunt taught her. Trust intuition. Measure with memory, not measuring cups.
That philosophy now defines Abby’s cooking. Her London restaurant, Mambow, is one of the first to spotlight Malaysian and Peranakan flavours through a contemporary lens—without diluting their soul. The name itself is playful, inspired by friends and the idea of nourishment, care, and maternal warmth. It stuck, just like her food does.

At Mambow, Abby doesn’t chase trends or sanitise flavours for comfort. Her dishes are unapologetic—shrimp paste stays pungent, spice stays bold, and fish heads stay on. (Though she admits one of the most memorable requests she’s received was for a fish dish…without the head.) For her, respecting tradition means understanding it deeply before reinterpreting it. Lemongrass isn’t a garnish; it’s a narrative.
Her favourite dish to reinterpret? Perut ikan—a deeply aromatic fish stomach curry layered with herbs and spices. In London, where certain ingredients are impossible to source, she adapts thoughtfully, substituting dried fish to achieve the same depth. The result isn’t imitation; it’s translation.
Abby’s recent kitchen takeover in Malaysia—her first time cooking professionally on home soil—felt especially meaningful. Surrounded by fellow Malaysian chefs and local produce, she found joy in collaboration, exchange, and rediscovery. Walking through markets, tasting unfamiliar sambals, and cooking with ingredients she usually has shipped halfway across the world reminded her why she does this in the first place.
Despite rising costs and razor-thin margins in London, Abby remains committed. “There’s no retiring in this industry,” she says plainly. You keep going because you believe the food deserves to be cooked—and tasted. She hopes to expand to a larger space someday, and maybe, eventually, return to Malaysia for good.
For now, her mission is simple: make diners curious. Curious enough to explore Malaysian food beyond the familiar. Curious enough to taste boldly, order bravely, and understand that this cuisine—rich with Malay, Chinese, Indian, and regional influences—was doing “fusion” long before the word existed.
Above all, Abby cooks for flavour over flair. Presentation may change, techniques may evolve, but the taste must always spark recognition. A memory. A sense of home.
Because for Chef Abby Lee, food isn’t about nostalgia alone. It’s about carrying culture forward—one honest, fearless plate at a time.






