Buah Kulim Is Malaysian's Version Of Truffle. Here's Why High‑End Restaurants Swear By It
It's known for its garlicky, earthy, and mushroom-like flavour.
Cover image via Follow us on Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp for the latest stories and breaking news.
Chances are, you've heard of truffles before. It's something fancy restaurants add to pasta and pizza for that expensive umami taste.
Truffles are really expensive. Top-quality truffles can fetch thousands of ringgit per piece, and a simple shaving of truffles can easily add a few hundred ringgit to your dinner.
The taste of truffle equals luxury, but for the everyday Malaysian, the experience just does not justify the cost.
Well, the good thing is that Malaysia has its own kind of "truffle", known as buah kulim
You may not have heard of it before, but quietly, buah kulim is being incorporated into top restaurants around Malaysia, and is gaining popularity for its garlicky, earthy, and mushroom-like flavours.
Chef Darren Teoh at Dewakan, Malaysia's first MICHELIN-starred restaurant, uses buah kulim in everything from pigeon dust to venison oil. At Gēn in Penang, Chef Johnson Wong describes it as an "explosion of garlic aroma" that lifts grilled seafood and even herbal teas. Across KL, it's popping up in degustation menus as oil drizzles, sauces, and fine-tuned condiments.
And the thing is, buah kulim, a.k.a. jungle garlic, has been around for centuries and is widely used in traditional communities.
So, what is buah kulim, actually?
Native to the tropical rainforests of Peninsular Malaysia and Borneo, this elusive fruit comes from the towering Scorodocarpus borneensis tree, which grows up to 40 metres tall. The tree is a true relic of ancient ecosystems, often found only in undisturbed jungles.
The fruit itself is unassuming — woody, walnut-sized, with creamy white flesh hidden inside a tough shell. It typically drops between May to August, similar to durians, and foragers often rely on the seasonal rhythm of the forest to collect it.
Long before fine dining entered the chat, Orang Asli communities like the Semai and Jakun were cooking with buah kulim. It was used in bamboo-cooked meats, jungle stews, and even as a substitute for garlic or onion in rustic dishes, according to a feature article by the MICHELIN Guide.
But it wasn't just for seasoning. Traditional medicine practices used buah kulim to treat ringworm, kidney issues, and even as an antidote for certain plant toxins.
Today, modern producers like Oylhaus work with Orang Asli foragers to gather the fruit sustainably and infuse its potent essence into neutral oils. The resulting buah kulim oil adds a garlicky umami kick to meats, pasta, cheese, and even curries.
Chefs also make powders and seasoning blends, slowly introducing buah kulim to fine dining fans looking for bold yet ethical flavour.
Here's the thing about buah kulim — the fruit can't be farmed on demand, it takes decades to mature
Buah kulim trees are slow-growing, taking decades to mature, and thrive only in undisturbed forest ecosystems. Trunk growth is minimal — often just a few millimetres per year — making large-scale cultivation impractical.
Harvesting is limited to naturally fallen fruits. There is no climbing, shaking, or manual picking involved. This method aligns with sustainable foraging practices and is often carried out by Orang Asli communities. As a result, buah kulim is naturally scarce and commands a high price.
The fruit's limited supply and low-impact sourcing contribute to its reputation as a sustainable luxury ingredient. While commercial farming is not currently viable, some producers are exploring small-scale processing into oil and seasoning products to meet rising demand from fine-dining establishments.
