A Place in the Sultan’s Kitchen (or How to Make the Perfect One-Pot Chicken Curry) | Joshua Hinton

Images: Tracey Leigh

If A Place in the Sultan’s Kitchen could be measured in manageable mouthfuls, this is how it would roll off my tongue:

A royally delightful feast for the senses. 

A mosaic of personal memories verbalised with generosity. 

A gentle onslaught of provocations centred on the complex meaning-making of one’s identity.

A mapping out of one’s familial biographies set against the backdrop of some of modern History’s unpalatable flashpoints fuelled by oppressive regimes, discriminatory policies, political violence and volatility that comes with the territory. 

Think religious persecution, apartheid, invasion, and partition delivered in bite-sized doses. A little lethal where it ought to count and a whole lot of enjoyable in general. Very much like the lovingly homemade chicken curry laced with coconut cream that was created and served to the audience as part of the show.

A Place in the Sultan’s Kitchen by Joshua Hinton was a slowly simmering microcosmic representation of one of humanity’s most long-standing traditions: MIGRATION. In all its glorious irony, migration is here to stay. It is the way of the world. Allow me to roar as I declare that Hinton’s theatrical concoction was a celebration of a multiplicity of migratory tales which have given form and depths of flavour to his animated yet casual style of storytelling. More importantly, they have given him this precious, loving family to fiercely call his own. A melting pot of a production pieced together by an eclectic mix of audiovisual elements, the story of Hinton’s family may quite possibly be the story of us all. 

In Hinton’s mindscape, the pot of chicken curry cooked ever so often by his maternal grandmother, also fondly referred to as Mehmeh by him, is the quintessential dish seasoned with generations of loving goodness unfetteredly swirling in it. It is abundantly evident that he has placed it on a pedestal and looks upon it as a steadying anchor he can return to time and time again when his internal and external diversities undergo interrogation from himself and others around him. It is so vital to his navigation of these complexities that cooking the curry has become the central concept of the show. The “Where are you from?” conversation first initiated by a childhood friend’s father was a defining moment, albeit a confusing one at that point in time, for him. Unbeknownst to him then, it did eventually set him on a path of collecting and deconstructing the fascinating, full-bodied storied lives of Mehmeh and his late paternal grandfather, Philip Hinton - fondly referred to as Poppy.

Images: Tracey Leigh

Playing the role of the consummate dinner party host to the hilt, Joshua begins the show by inviting us to invoke the divine with an Arabic prayer chant, simultaneously honouring our collective presence and the inherent power of the stories he was going to share with us.  In this delicately constructed atmosphere of respect mixed with heartfelt congeniality, he regaled us, the willing attendees, with cheeky banter played out between him and his brother, Dominic, while he cooked.  As well as being part of the show, Dominic also cleverly designed the visuals and the score. At times Dominic assumed the role of a game show host pressing the buzzer on Joshua when there would be apparently accidental lapses in memory in his recounting of the stories. More playfulness ensued in the use of Joshua’s stage props. The reflective surfaces of silver plates literally reflected images which served as visual aids in his narration of anecdotes. Spice jars were employed as personified moving parts representing characters in his assortment of accounts. This element of playfulness was a nice touch considering how some of these stories were marked by painful, challenging life experiences.

I learnt that many of Mehmeh’s formative years were spent living between Iran and India, navigating loss in her childhood with the passing of her father. In my limited imagination, I wondered if much of this time was about Mehmeh likely figuring out and finding her place as a Parsi girl in Poona. In spite of the extraordinarily uncertain circumstances which seemed to have shaped her early years, Mehmeh’s digital onstage presence filled the performance space with so much quiet strength and warmth. Armed with an unassuming sense of humour, she called herself a “fruit salad” drawing references to her diverse cultural heritage. This elicited a number of laughs amongst the audience. This visceral articulation of love was very much present in Joshua’s recollection of his beloved Poppy’s deep appreciation for jazz and the lively encounters he shared with legendary jazz trumpeter, Dizzy Gillespie. It is this ripened fullness of his grandparents’ rich lives which inspired much hope in me that night.

Joshua's love for chicken curry is a thing of resonance for me personally. Growing up in my Singaporean Tamil household, it was a prominent feature in our weekly meals. The one my Amma makes is vastly different from Mehmeh's but the fundamental truth I can wholly accept is that the making and eating of chicken curry is a vibe of its own.

Incidentally, it was also the first curry I cooked when I relocated from Singapore to Brisbane a good decade ago. I tried to find and feel like some semblance of home in my attempt to cook it. Like Joshua, I, too, have actual meaningful and memorable stories involving chicken curry in my family. One about my late youngest maternal aunt and one about my very own brother. In this sense, Joshua's making of chicken curry as an act of revisiting the past while reconstructing the present in the spirit of resistance, resilience, and always remembering was truly deeply gratifying.

A Place in the Sultan’s Kitchen made for heartwarming theatre. Its soulful unfolding is a testimony to the transformative power of stories, especially the ones we relish and rely on for the sustenance of our selfhood.

A Place in the Sultan’s Kitchen played 16-20 September 2025 at QPAC’s Cremorne Theatre as part of the 2025 Brisbane Festival.

Images: Tracey Leigh