recipes and conversations with my Indonesian friends, letter #1

Selamat datang. Welcome.

This is the first of many love letters to my dad’s homeland, Indonesia, and to those who bring its spirit to life here in the US. I’ll serve up curated Indonesian recipes, curiosity deep-dives, and playful conversations with cooks, artists, and thinkers who share my kinship to this place of magic and, yes, hardship too. 

For this initial hi-listen-to-meee blast, I’ll touch on what draws me to this region, then we’ll hang out and cook a recipe from my family’s archive (hint: it’s fried, and very good.) Next month, I’ll welcome my first guest Feby, illustrious tempe-maker and founder of Reculture Kitchen, which I am totally thrilled about.

Let’s start at the source, shall we?

The Indonesian archipelago in Southeast Asia is composed of 17,000 biologically, culturally (and linguistically) diverse islands. Situated along the ‘Ring of Fire’ — a perimeter prone to earthquakes and volcanic activity — the country is continually anticipating its next earthly surprise. I think this anything-can-happen reality inspires people live in the moment. Of course, I’m generalizing a bit here, but this looseness in daily flow has a name — jam karet, rubber time. Hours have a different way of slipping by when you’re willing to squat just about anywhere to enjoy a long chat and a kretek clove cigarette or a cup of sweet tea with a friend, schedules be damned.

Indonesians really know how to have fun, too. In Java, where my father grew up, parties last several days for weddings or harvest time or to usher in the end of Ramadan, and there is always a lot of communal eating.

Eating together is essential to happiness, and Indonesian food reflects the tropical climate (palm sugar, tamarind, so many fruits) and its proximity to the sea (salted fish and shrimp paste in nearly everything). Once, I asked my grandma, Nenek Daryati — who still happily spends most days salt-curing fish and selling it at the beach — if she’d ever eaten a sandwich, and she crumpled up her face in theatrical repulsion and exclaimed, in essence, “No way! Cheese is so strange!”

There is so much to discover in a place so grounded in its surroundings. For me, a being half-Indonesian and half-European raised in Northern California (one might call me a souvenir from one of my mom’s trips to Southeast Asia), I am still just scratching the surface.

I share a button nose and a hankering for spicy, salty, fishy food with my large West Javanese family, and learning to cook their recipes has been a way for me to connect with them and find my own sense of place. Despite my dreadful accent when I speak the national language Bahasa Indonesia (which bears the brunt of many jokes), it seems we always understand each other when we’re sitting crosslegged eating together, scooping rice from the same banana leaf, cooing in pleasurable pain as the sambal’s heat kicks in. Flavor is its own special language.

Teasing apart our personal and family histories — some of which may be linked to a faraway ‘homeland’ — in order to weave something new and true is no small task. For Indonesia, a region that has been marked by hundreds of years of colonial trauma, finding equilibrium has been particularly difficult.

Thanks, in part, to ~the Internet~ and a fresh generation of Indonesians eager to create space for themselves in the US, a community is growing. I believe we are authentic in whatever form we take. So here’s a toast to Indonesian-American creativity, here and now.

With that, I’ll leave you with a link to my step-mom’s rad new Indonesian cooking Youtube channel (featuring extensive cute-babies-eating-noodles footage, which I’m not mad about) and her spirit-elevating recipe for fried chicken (below) to make these last odious drippings of isolation a little more bearable. Ayo, makan! Let’s eat!

If you have guest suggestions, criticisms (I’m new to this!), or would like to just drop me a line, I encourage you to reach out.

xo and salam, Melati

I'll confess, ayam goreng (Indonesian fried chicken) is the quickest way to my heart. It is made so many ways depending on region or personal taste, but this iteration in particular is very dear to me.

My step-mom Esti was raised in the Sundanese region of West Java and this is a recipe she’s been making and perfecting since she was six (seriously!). If there was ever a fried chicken one could consider medicinal — healing to the soul at the very least! — I think it might be this. The serundeng (spiced, toasted coconut) takes it to a different dimension.

Like any good chef, her recipe consists of putting dashes of this and pinches of that until the dish tastes *just right*, usually with a nursing baby dangling from her chest. But finally we sat down and spent the day carefully writing out and practicing the recipe. I hope you enjoy it as much as my family does.

Serves 3-4

Origin: West Java

INGREDIENTS

• Medium/large mortar and pestle or food processor

• 10-12 chicken drumsticks or wings, or assortment of both

• about 2 cup chicken broth

• about 2 cups neutral frying oil (I prefer sunflower)

• 3 large thumbs fresh ginger

• 3 large thumbs fresh turmeric

• 2 small shallots, peeled

• 8 garlic cloves, peeled

• 2 tbsp freshly fine-ground + 1 tsp coarsely ground coriander (only powdered will also do)

• 3 candlenuts (can sub macadamias or Brazil nuts)

• about 4 tbsp salt

• Side fresh veg of choice for that crunch, baby. Some ideas: sliced tomato or cucumber or radish, small wedges of purple cabbage, lemon or Thai basil sprigs. Let your creativity go wild here.

For the serundeng (toasted coconut topping):

• 1.5 cups shredded coconut

• 2 shallots

• 2 cloves of garlic

• 1 large thumb turmeric

• 1/2 thumb fresh galangal

• 2 candlenuts (or macadamia/Brazil nuts)

• 3 daun salam, Indonesian bay leaves (can sub dried curry leaves or omit)

• 3 tbsp palm or coconut sugar

• 1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 2 inch pieces, bruised

• 1 tbsp cooking oil

• salt to taste

Best served with hot jasmine rice and sambal terasi (shrimp sambal). Find Esti’s sambal terasi recipe here. Seriously, don’t sleep on this recipe!!! It completes the meal. If you don’t have time or ingredients to make sambal, you may use store-bought Sambal Oelek.

DIRECTIONS

1. Blend the shallots, candlenuts, 4 cloves of garlic, 1 thumb each of ginger and turmeric, 1 tbsp coriander, and 2 tbsp salt in mortar + pestle or food processor until they create a chunky paste. You may have to add a dash of water to get the blender going.

2. Fill a large saucepan with the chicken broth and add water until it's about 1 1/2 inches deep. Add the paste and bring everything to a boil.

3. Lower heat to a light boil, add the chicken and cook for about 3-5 minutes (depending on their size), turning the pieces over frequently. If they don’t all fit in one pan, wait until the first round is completely cooked and removed before adding the rest and repeating. Once the chicken pieces are par-cooked – no pink visible but still tender and boingy (you know what I mean?) to the touch and a little raw on the inside — it’s time to remove and drain in a colander.

4. Blend the remaining garlic, ginger, turmeric, 1 tbsp coriander and salt in mortar and pestle or food processor until it makes a slightly smoother paste, adding a dash of water if needed.

5. Combine the chicken and paste in big ziploc or a shallow dish, mix well, and let rest in the refrigerator for 20 minutes to an hour.

6. Meanwhile, start your jasmine rice.

7. Then, make the shrimp sambal, and then the serundeng. For the serundeng, blend the shallots, galangal, turmeric, candlenuts, and salt in mortar and pestle or food processor until it becomes a similarly smooth paste.

8. Then, heat 1 tbsp oil over medium heat in a light-bottomed pan and add the paste. Sauté, stirring frequently, for about 3 minutes. Add the coconut, bay leaves, and bruised lemongrass, stirring constantly until the coconut is a delightful golden color, about 5-7 minutes. You may need to turn the stove on low if it toasts too quickly. Set the coconut aside for later.

9. In a frying pan, add the neutral fry oil until it's about 1/2 inch high. Heat oil on high, and when it begins to shimmer, lower to medium-high and carefully (!!) add the chicken and sprinkle with the remaining 1 tsp of coarsely ground coriander (your main goal: to find distinguishable crispy coriander flecks as you eat.) Again, if all the pieces don’t fit at once, wait until the first round is completely cooked and removed before adding the rest and repeating.

10. Fry until both sides are golden brown, about 3 ish minutes each side, depending on size. Remove your beautifully cooked chicken from the pan and place in colander to drain excess oil.

11. Place on a serving dish, sprinkle with a generous amounts of toasted coconut, serve hot with rice, sambal, and sliced fresh veg. Extra gold stars if you eat the meal with your hands.

Selamat makan! Happy eating!

If you make the recipe, hashtag #threesaltedfish so I can see!