Born in Naples, Raised in America,
Registered in Penang

What the "US" really means

The founder was an American, Donald Duncan. In the early 1990s he spent about five years at a pizza restaurant in Missouri, created his own dough and "Duncan Sauce", and then in 1997, for reasons best known to himself, crossed the Pacific and opened the first outlet in Penang. The "US" is a tribute to the country where he learned his craft.

I can picture an Italian frowning: surely pizza's roots are in Naples? But it was America, where Italian immigrants took it, that turned pizza into a global product. Born in Naples, internationalised in America, localised in Penang. Perhaps a dish belongs not where it was born, but where it was loved.

The Japanese are in no position to laugh

Then again, we Japanese can hardly talk. Spaghetti Napolitan was born in Yokohama, "Tianjin rice" doesn't exist in Tianjin, and "Turkish rice" isn't served in Turkey. If an Italian frowns at US Pizza, Napolitan would make them faint.

A place name on a menu isn't an address; it's a promise. Napolitan was a longing for an unseen Naples, wrapped in ketchup. The "US" in US Pizza promises a taste of a sunnier America.

From Penang to the whole country

For years US Pizza was a Penang local. The turning point came in 2015, when Jeremy Hiew, a regular since childhood, took over the brand. He inherited the taste of his childhood, quite literally. A model fan.

It opened its first outlet outside Penang in 2019, then, when the pandemic hit, put its foot down, at one point opening 40 outlets in a single year. Today there are more than 100 across Malaysia and Indonesia. Close the dining room, and pizza still has the box and delivery. It looked contrarian; it was perfectly rational.

Lunch for RM9.90

The lunch set at Gamuda Cove costs RM9.90: one of about six pizzas, plus a cinnamon roll. Pizza with a cinnamon roll is the Japanese equivalent of ramen with a side of rice. Lunch in Malaysia does not hold back.

It came out piping hot, seemingly fresh from the oven, and honestly, it was very good. The crust is soft and fluffy, with no crispy option. A little sad for a thin-and-crispy man, but next to a cinnamon roll, fluffy may be the right call.

For context, Malaysia's minimum wage, the same nationwide including Selangor, is RM8.72 an hour. This lunch is a little over an hour's work. Cheap in yen, a proper meal by the local wage. And with the minimum wage set to rise to RM2,000 a month from June 2027, it should feel a little lighter next year.

Not extra bonito, extra chilli

The flavours are mostly sweet and spicy, with a hint of sambal. Then come the sachets: extra chilli sauce, and extra chilli flakes. Japanese cooking shows love "oi-katsuo", a second helping of bonito flakes. In Malaysia, it's "oi-chilli".

This is a country where the diner makes the final move. At a mamak or a hawker stall, there's almost always chilli and a row of condiments: a sensible system where many palates share one table. Musang King durian, Indomie noodles, salted egg: menu items that might make an Italian grandmother cross herself have become the brand's weapons.

Real America, two doors down

In Malaysia, businesses of the same kind happily set up side by side. At Gamuda Cove, Pizza Hut is two doors down.

A Malaysian-born pizza that calls itself "US" faces off against a genuinely American one that doesn't bother saying so. And Pizza Hut's lunch starts at RM8.80, RM1.10 cheaper, almost exactly the minimum hourly wage. In Japan, imported brands usually cost more; here, the "US" sign costs more than the real America. The premium is RM1.10. What sets a sign's value isn't where it was born, but how long it has been loved.

Through a business lens

Occupational hazard, so just three lessons.

First, separate the name from the substance. The sign wears an imported face; the food goes all-in on the Malaysian palate. Japanese companies in ASEAN usually struggle because they can't let go of "the correct way back home". Protecting the taste of Japan and imposing the Japanese way of doing things are entirely different.

Second, succession. Japan is full of beloved businesses with no one to take them over. The successor doesn't have to be family; it can be a fan.

Third, open next to the competition. Under Hotelling's law, two ice-cream sellers on a beach both end up in the middle, because customers gather where they can compare. But close locations tend to breed similar products and price wars. These two neighbours converge on location and diverge on taste. That's the secret to living side by side.

The same pattern shows up with bubble tea, mamak stalls and coffee chains. The coffee chains, in particular, line up in a way that makes you laugh out loud. But that's a story for next time.

If an Italian complains

Home becomes not where you were born, but where you put down roots. For someone who lives between Japan, Malaysia and Singapore, that one hits a little close to home.

If an Italian friend gets upset, I'll say: "This isn't pizza. It's US Pizza." And if they ask about Napolitan, I'll stay quiet and add more chilli.