The Jakarta Post , Jakarta Food and Drink
By Joko E.H. Anwar
JAKARTA (JP): Some people say good food is better than sex. The statement may be an exaggeration but it certainly tries to makes a good point. Remember the phrase ""You are what you eat?""
To some people who are not too picky about what they eat, there are only two kinds of food: delicious food and very delicious food.
To these people, chefs have a tendency to be rather snobbish. They want you to appreciate the food they prepare at your table in the same way they do. They are likely to roll their eyes not just when you dollop some ketchup on your dish but also when your way of eating one particular dish is considered wrong or uncivilized.
Culinary expert William Wongso told The Jakarta Post that eating is actually much more difficult than most people think. You are not just what you eat but also how you eat.
""It's hard to fake eating manners. It always reflects someone's past, even if he or she already has a higher (social) status,"" William said.
Some chefs will even confront you when they think that you are ruining their artistry. Just like the chef who denies an American woman's demand to have meatballs in her risotto in Big Night, a film about an Italian food connoisseur.
When the woman hopelessly asks for pasta, the chef refuses to serve her, insisting that there cannot be two starchy dishes in any one meal.
It is interesting since while food seems to be a ""light"" issue to present in films compared to say politics, filmmakers who make films on the subject are usually considered first-rate.
Teater Utan Kayu film buffs community in East Jakarta chose what they consider to be the best movies to represent the subject during a screening of films about food earlier this week.
Several award-winning entries including Ang Lee's Eat Drink Man Woman, Alfonso Arau's Like Water for Chocolate, Big Night, and Babette's Feast were screened.
Watching these films, it is amazing to see how some people appreciate food more than as just a basic necessity. They may also change the way you look at food forever.
In many countries, food has become a medium to socialize with others, William said during the event.
""In China, eating is considered a gathering ritual (with family members),"" added William, the key speaker in a discussion after the screenings.
This is superbly displayed in Eat Drink Man Woman.
To a family whose father is a chef, food is the natural medium for the children to communicate freely to their father, something that is difficult to do when they are not eating.
In Alfonso Arau's Like Water for Chocolate, a young woman named Tita finds a way to express her feeling with her cooking.
Her family's tradition rules that she must take care of her mother until the day she dies which forbids her from being married.
Tita's boyfriend Pedro then weds her sister to be continuously close to Tita. However, Pedro's intention proves to be difficult to realize as Tita's tyrannical and suspicious mother keeps her under close observation.
Being a food connoisseur, Tita then penetrates Pedro's body with her food.
In this highly acclaimed film which is filled with magic realism, anyone who eats her cooking will feel the emotion she feels at the time she cooks one particular dish.
One day, she uses roses Pedro gives her to make quails in rose petal sauce which frees her sexually repressed sister who subsequently becomes a whore and then an army general! In real life, why should people bother to think about what they eat as long as it tastes good? Well, beside the health issue, the films prove that culinary art deserves more appreciation.
In order to be able to create a gourmet, chefs should give each ingredient special treatment. Watching this process in the films can be as exciting as watching a good action scene.
According to William, the art of cooking was born from the need of difference in food among human beings.
""An extreme example would be like this: kings will not eat what ordinary people eat so cooks should be able to serve different dishes. The effort to make this possible gave birth to chefs,"" William said.
William pointed out that public culinary appreciation in Indonesia is still very low. In other words he means that we still, by and large, cook simply to fulfill our need to feed ourselves.
Isn't that because many people can't afford to buy expensive ingredients to create good food?
Well, William said that good food doesn't necessarily have to be made from expensive materials.
Those who have seen Woman on Top which is currently shown in local theaters will agree with William.
In the film, a Brazilian food connoisseur played by the lovely Penelope Cruz shows how to turn simple ingredients, mostly spices, into exotic dishes.
In a country blessed with many kinds of spices, Indonesians should be able to do the same. But what is worse is that the country is short of food artists.
""There are no chefs in Indonesia,"" William said. ""We only have cooks,"" he added.
A chef doesn't necessarily have to cook his own cooking.
""In the culinary world, Adhie MS would be a chef since he composes his music even though he has other people to play it. He just has to conduct it,"" William said to give an example.
William said that just like any other artist, someone should have public recognition in order to be a chef and there was yet to be someone like that in this country.
""Do we know someone who has a signature dish in this country? No,"" William said.
However, William added, it was understandable since cooking is very expensive to learn. Painting, for example, lasts for a long time. But food is consumed shortly after it has been cooked.
Furthermore, William said that culinary art was likely to develop slowly in a society which has a lot of food restrictions, particularly with regard to religious practices.
""This kind of restriction is discouraging,"" William said.
William also found an interesting fact about popular taste preferences in Indonesia.
""Our society prefers an unfocused, more than one ""sensational"" taste,"" William said. It had to be spicy, yet at the same time it should be sweet or have some other feature, William added to give an example.
William claimed not to have one particular favorite dish from another country.
""I try to appreciate the creation of food regarding the culture in which the food is found,"" William said.
If you ask, as someone who has lived in Indonesia for most of his life, what is William's favorite food?
""Soto Madura,"" William will say. ""Even though I can't find a good place to eat it here in Jakarta.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
'Daluman', Bali's popular drink and its intruiging tale
Let me tell you the tale of daluman; that mysterious leafy-green drink that is revered by the Balinese. Have you tried it?
Take a stroll to any local market early in the morning and you will find it on sale. But in Ubud, the drink is no less intriguing than Ibu Jarni, the woman who sells it.
Enter the Ubud market on Jl. Monkey Forest, through the narrow alleyway on the western side, weaving your way past rows of sarongs, hydrangeas, kangkung (water spinach), durian and coconut leaves and you will find her amongst a team of food sellers: Three grandmas selling rice with assorted side dishes on one side and Ibu Jarni, the daluman seller on the other. You could call it a "breakfast of sweethearts".
But let me point out that this is not a breezy caf* scene, with alfresco tables and chairs with the delicious hum of cappuccinos frothing in the background. This is Bali-style (and I'm not talking about that fancy interior design book-style either*).
What you will find is a row of low tables tended by a team of Balinese grandmas with the style factor being wrapped-up in the oddly coordinated towels they wear on their heads. And if you are seeking local gossip, this is the place to hear all of Ubud's news, a bustling, shoulder-to-shoulder "hot-spot" of the verbal kind where you can garner all the details on what is happening in this vibrant town.
Opposite these culinary divas, sits the queen of green tonics, the goddess of leaf and laughter. Ibu Jarni started selling daluman in Ubud nearly thirty years ago, when she was in her early twenties. She is an Ubud Market institution, a barista of sorts, except that her coffee beans are leaves and the brewing is a matter of mixing not pouring.
Sitting on the tiled veranda of her bedroom overlooking a small, unpaved compound that lies behind Casa Luna in an area known as Jungut, I asked her: "What made you pursue a career as a daluman maker?", knowing the answer before it was delivered.
She laughed in an almost helpless manner: "Sing ngawang (I don't know why).
"We had to eat and I had to support the family. We had two children and my husband was not working. We are poor people," she said.
It's called survival, I thought to myself. Simple as that*
I looked at the other buildings around us, each painted chalky white with faded wooden duck-egg blue shutters; old-school Bali, of small modest abodes made for a smaller generation, when life was less complicated.
Ibu Jarni's day starts around five in the morning when the roosters start crowing in alarming unison and the dogs begin grumbling. You can imagine her silently sweeping the compound, preparing the daily rice and the daluman leaves in the stillness of dawn.
"You have to wash them twice," she said energetically. "And then you "pijak-pijak" (scrunch) them."
Her words were accompanied by robust hand gestures, the confident movements of a woman who knows her leaves, arms firmed by a rigorous daily work-out.
She laughed in that quirky manner I have grown to love. A few years ago, when I used to lead eager tourists in and out of narrow aisles, up and down the rickety stairs on a magical market tour, Ibu Jarni was one of the highlights (nowadays my cooking-class staff do the tour for me).
To say she is eccentric is an understatement -- and don't you just love lively village folk* Wasn't it Jack Kerouac who said he only liked the company of colorful people? And colorful she is.
I listened earnestly to the process of making daluman. The leaves are left to steep in water until they have formed a jelly-like mass. While this organic transformation is taking place, Ibu Jarni prepares the roasted coconut milk and palm sugar syrup that will be mixed with the wobbly leaf mixture.
"Coconuts and palm sugar are expensive nowadays. But I always use palm sugar from Dawan (Klungkung). It has the best flavor and is not bitter."
Her dedication in using the finest ingredients sets her apart from the rest and in Ubud we all know that Ibu Jarni's daluman is the most delicious. After an hour, the leaves have set into a glossy pool of dark-green jelly.
But it is not just the flavor of the drink that makes it so wonderful. It is the performance that accompanies each glass. Ibu Jarni is a Shakespearian actor of sorts and serves each daluman with all the pomp and ceremony it deserves. While seated at her small table, she tosses in the daluman mixture and adds a swirl of coconut milk and palm sugar with a dazzling exaggeration that would make Bette Davis weep with pride.
When I visited Ibu Jarni the other day at the market, she gave me one of her heartfelt Bali embraces, arms slung around my waist.
And on close inspection, I realized we are close in age but separated by a lifetime of hardship. There is a hint of melancholy in her eyes, a certain loneliness that lies beneath her smooth skin.
Sometimes I have bumped into her at the temple, usually on her own and remembered thinking then, how strange it was to see her without her table, like a forlorn actor without a role (the way I remembered Ronnie Corbett, on-stage and off-stage, in my days as an usherette, but that's another story).
I have enjoyed a long illustrious relationship with daluman, ever since I was introduced to it in the mid 1980s at the wood-carving gallery of my husband, Ketut, in Mas village.
I remember waiting each morning for the daluman lady to stroll through the gates. She would arrive as regular as clockwork, carrying a small wooden table balanced effortlessly on her head laden with daluman and other assorted ingredients.
On the polished red terrazzo steps she would set-up shop and the staff would crowd around her to buy her green potion and to share a few obligatory jokes about girlfriends, boyfriends and other dubious subjects.
She would mix daluman in a small glass, top it with a drizzle of palm-sugar with a few spoonfuls of roasted coconut milk and then stir it proudly, the spoon tinkling confidently against the glass.
As I drank her precious potion, reveling in the aroma of roasted coconut milk, she would eye me with curiosity. She had never sold this drink to a western person before, she told me, and in time we grew fond of each other. I became very attached to this delicious, awesome-looking drink that cooled my entire being. I enjoyed the feeling of it working its way down to my stomach, leaving a path of calm and satisfaction.
The daluman lady loved to tell me the virtues of this popular drink. It's good for pregnant women, she would tell me, saying that it also helps the baby "pop out". It cools a hot stomach, is full of vitamins and helps you maintain a youthful complexion. The list grew longer with every passing month. Nowadays, I have been told that it is being tested as a preventative for stomach cancer.
In the meantime, I drink daluman as often as I can and sip the tender care that Ibu Jarni offers. I guess that's what you call a holistic experience.
When you are in Ubud, don't forget to drop into the market to say "hello" to Ibu Jarni. I am sure she will charm you.
Take a stroll to any local market early in the morning and you will find it on sale. But in Ubud, the drink is no less intriguing than Ibu Jarni, the woman who sells it.
Enter the Ubud market on Jl. Monkey Forest, through the narrow alleyway on the western side, weaving your way past rows of sarongs, hydrangeas, kangkung (water spinach), durian and coconut leaves and you will find her amongst a team of food sellers: Three grandmas selling rice with assorted side dishes on one side and Ibu Jarni, the daluman seller on the other. You could call it a "breakfast of sweethearts".
But let me point out that this is not a breezy caf* scene, with alfresco tables and chairs with the delicious hum of cappuccinos frothing in the background. This is Bali-style (and I'm not talking about that fancy interior design book-style either*).
What you will find is a row of low tables tended by a team of Balinese grandmas with the style factor being wrapped-up in the oddly coordinated towels they wear on their heads. And if you are seeking local gossip, this is the place to hear all of Ubud's news, a bustling, shoulder-to-shoulder "hot-spot" of the verbal kind where you can garner all the details on what is happening in this vibrant town.
Opposite these culinary divas, sits the queen of green tonics, the goddess of leaf and laughter. Ibu Jarni started selling daluman in Ubud nearly thirty years ago, when she was in her early twenties. She is an Ubud Market institution, a barista of sorts, except that her coffee beans are leaves and the brewing is a matter of mixing not pouring.
Sitting on the tiled veranda of her bedroom overlooking a small, unpaved compound that lies behind Casa Luna in an area known as Jungut, I asked her: "What made you pursue a career as a daluman maker?", knowing the answer before it was delivered.
She laughed in an almost helpless manner: "Sing ngawang (I don't know why).
"We had to eat and I had to support the family. We had two children and my husband was not working. We are poor people," she said.
It's called survival, I thought to myself. Simple as that*
I looked at the other buildings around us, each painted chalky white with faded wooden duck-egg blue shutters; old-school Bali, of small modest abodes made for a smaller generation, when life was less complicated.
Ibu Jarni's day starts around five in the morning when the roosters start crowing in alarming unison and the dogs begin grumbling. You can imagine her silently sweeping the compound, preparing the daily rice and the daluman leaves in the stillness of dawn.
"You have to wash them twice," she said energetically. "And then you "pijak-pijak" (scrunch) them."
Her words were accompanied by robust hand gestures, the confident movements of a woman who knows her leaves, arms firmed by a rigorous daily work-out.
She laughed in that quirky manner I have grown to love. A few years ago, when I used to lead eager tourists in and out of narrow aisles, up and down the rickety stairs on a magical market tour, Ibu Jarni was one of the highlights (nowadays my cooking-class staff do the tour for me).
To say she is eccentric is an understatement -- and don't you just love lively village folk* Wasn't it Jack Kerouac who said he only liked the company of colorful people? And colorful she is.
I listened earnestly to the process of making daluman. The leaves are left to steep in water until they have formed a jelly-like mass. While this organic transformation is taking place, Ibu Jarni prepares the roasted coconut milk and palm sugar syrup that will be mixed with the wobbly leaf mixture.
"Coconuts and palm sugar are expensive nowadays. But I always use palm sugar from Dawan (Klungkung). It has the best flavor and is not bitter."
Her dedication in using the finest ingredients sets her apart from the rest and in Ubud we all know that Ibu Jarni's daluman is the most delicious. After an hour, the leaves have set into a glossy pool of dark-green jelly.
But it is not just the flavor of the drink that makes it so wonderful. It is the performance that accompanies each glass. Ibu Jarni is a Shakespearian actor of sorts and serves each daluman with all the pomp and ceremony it deserves. While seated at her small table, she tosses in the daluman mixture and adds a swirl of coconut milk and palm sugar with a dazzling exaggeration that would make Bette Davis weep with pride.
When I visited Ibu Jarni the other day at the market, she gave me one of her heartfelt Bali embraces, arms slung around my waist.
And on close inspection, I realized we are close in age but separated by a lifetime of hardship. There is a hint of melancholy in her eyes, a certain loneliness that lies beneath her smooth skin.
Sometimes I have bumped into her at the temple, usually on her own and remembered thinking then, how strange it was to see her without her table, like a forlorn actor without a role (the way I remembered Ronnie Corbett, on-stage and off-stage, in my days as an usherette, but that's another story).
I have enjoyed a long illustrious relationship with daluman, ever since I was introduced to it in the mid 1980s at the wood-carving gallery of my husband, Ketut, in Mas village.
I remember waiting each morning for the daluman lady to stroll through the gates. She would arrive as regular as clockwork, carrying a small wooden table balanced effortlessly on her head laden with daluman and other assorted ingredients.
On the polished red terrazzo steps she would set-up shop and the staff would crowd around her to buy her green potion and to share a few obligatory jokes about girlfriends, boyfriends and other dubious subjects.
She would mix daluman in a small glass, top it with a drizzle of palm-sugar with a few spoonfuls of roasted coconut milk and then stir it proudly, the spoon tinkling confidently against the glass.
As I drank her precious potion, reveling in the aroma of roasted coconut milk, she would eye me with curiosity. She had never sold this drink to a western person before, she told me, and in time we grew fond of each other. I became very attached to this delicious, awesome-looking drink that cooled my entire being. I enjoyed the feeling of it working its way down to my stomach, leaving a path of calm and satisfaction.
The daluman lady loved to tell me the virtues of this popular drink. It's good for pregnant women, she would tell me, saying that it also helps the baby "pop out". It cools a hot stomach, is full of vitamins and helps you maintain a youthful complexion. The list grew longer with every passing month. Nowadays, I have been told that it is being tested as a preventative for stomach cancer.
In the meantime, I drink daluman as often as I can and sip the tender care that Ibu Jarni offers. I guess that's what you call a holistic experience.
When you are in Ubud, don't forget to drop into the market to say "hello" to Ibu Jarni. I am sure she will charm you.
Off the menu, into your glass
Tired of your usual drink? Order one of these international standard drinks. Good bartenders should know how to make them, even though, and especially when, they are not on the menu.
A Mochito, or Mojito, is made from mint leaves, orange or lime juice, Jamaican dark rum, club soda, brown sugar and Angostura bitters -- a highly concentrated food and beverage flavoring that is able to mix different aromas and improve appetite. The mint leaves are mashed for a fresh and soothing effect.
A White Russian is served in a highball. It is made from vodka, coffee liqueur and light cream. The vodka and coffee liqueur are poured over ice cubes and the light cream is then added. The drink's name is said to have a connection with the 1917 Russian revolution, when tsarist sympathizers on the White Army's side fought against the Bolshevik Red Army and the Green Army.
A Bloody Mary is made by mixing vodka, tomato juice, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce -- a widely used fermented liquid for flavoring of food and drink -- and Tobasco sauce. All ingredients are shaken with ice and poured into a highball. The drink is believed to have been created by an Englishman named George Jessel in 1939. The drink is served with a wedge of lime.
A Dirty Martini is made from gin, dry vermouth, olive juice and a garnishing of olives. Ice cubes and a small amount of water are mixed into a martini glass. The glass is chilled, sometimes in a refrigerator, for a few minutes. All other ingredients, including the olive garnishing, are filled into a mixer and are stirred or shaken for three or four times before it is served.
A Whiskey Sour is made by blending whiskey, lemon juice and powdered sugar with ice. It is shaken and served over ice in a tumbler. Sometimes a dash of egg white is also used to enhance the taste. The drink is then decorated with half a lemon slice and topped with a cherry before it is served.(lva)
A Mochito, or Mojito, is made from mint leaves, orange or lime juice, Jamaican dark rum, club soda, brown sugar and Angostura bitters -- a highly concentrated food and beverage flavoring that is able to mix different aromas and improve appetite. The mint leaves are mashed for a fresh and soothing effect.
A White Russian is served in a highball. It is made from vodka, coffee liqueur and light cream. The vodka and coffee liqueur are poured over ice cubes and the light cream is then added. The drink's name is said to have a connection with the 1917 Russian revolution, when tsarist sympathizers on the White Army's side fought against the Bolshevik Red Army and the Green Army.
A Bloody Mary is made by mixing vodka, tomato juice, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce -- a widely used fermented liquid for flavoring of food and drink -- and Tobasco sauce. All ingredients are shaken with ice and poured into a highball. The drink is believed to have been created by an Englishman named George Jessel in 1939. The drink is served with a wedge of lime.
A Dirty Martini is made from gin, dry vermouth, olive juice and a garnishing of olives. Ice cubes and a small amount of water are mixed into a martini glass. The glass is chilled, sometimes in a refrigerator, for a few minutes. All other ingredients, including the olive garnishing, are filled into a mixer and are stirred or shaken for three or four times before it is served.
A Whiskey Sour is made by blending whiskey, lemon juice and powdered sugar with ice. It is shaken and served over ice in a tumbler. Sometimes a dash of egg white is also used to enhance the taste. The drink is then decorated with half a lemon slice and topped with a cherry before it is served.(lva)
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