recipes and conversations with my Indonesian friends, letter #2

Hello there,

Life feels especially tenuous here for Asian-Americans lately, despite the lush medicine of Spring.

Here in Oakland, I recently purchased a hot pink taser just as our garden’s blush-colored tulips began to bloom. On another day, I sought mind-numbing relief from the national news of racially targeted assaults and mass shootings by hopping on Nextdoor to search for a used inflatable hot tub (is that gross or genius? I'm still undecided), only to see a post about two Asian neighbors’ cars being set aflame in the middle of the night. Everywhere we turn there's something stunning to take our breath away, and a moment later there is something else ready to haunt us.

Is this real life? What the fuck?

I will say this collective grief is a powerful experience. As a child I felt isolated as the ‘oriental girl’ in a mostly white small town. On Halloween my mom dressed me in an arguably questionable ‘Asian warrior’ outfit and, with a curved sword strapped to my waist, I went trick-or-treating along with the local kids who, in one instance, told me to ‘go back to India’, cringe. But now I'm a scared, furious half-Javanese woman in solidarity with a diverse army of other scared furious Asians owning their distinct stories, and that feels both heartbreaking and cathartic. I hope you are leaning into the catharsis, too.

And let’s not forget, a fight for Black lives is also a fight for Asian lives, for indigenous lives, for people of color, for women’s lives, for queer lives, for you.

There is going to be a long process of unraveling before we get any good shit done, but two immediate actions you can take:

★ Sign up for a free online bystander intervention training through the non-profit Hollaback!. There are several workshops tailored to responding to specific situations, including witnessing AAPI (Asian Americans + Pacific Islanders), gender-based, and online harassment.

★ Donate to an AAPI-supporting org that is meaningful to you, such as the Asian Mental Health Collective, a non-profit focused on de-stigmatizing mental health and expanding services to the AAPI community.

Speaking of catharsis, let's talk about tempe!

My recent afternoon spent with my fellow Indonesian-American friend Feby was a refreshing swerve back to a grounded clarity.

Feby came to my studio wearing a lacy golden kebaya (which she wears for Balinese dancing but I’d asked her to ‘dress up in something Indonesian’ just for fun), reminding me of when my family members get fancy for special occasions in Java and I felt an almost instant kindred connection.

We mused about future dinner parties and the smell of our parent’s kitchens. We both have turned to our Indonesian parents’ food ways as forms of self-discovery and community-building, and most importantly, on a cellular level we understand the unrivaled delight of sweet, ice-cold pandan-flavored Es Cendol, or the tall cones of yellow rice called Nasi Tumpeng that are served on fresh banana leaves, a sure sign of party time.

In 2019, Feby founded Reculture Kitchen, an Oakland-based small-batch ‘tempe’ business (that’s how we spell it in Indonesia) that makes Indonesian-style unpasteurized tempe for monthly subscribers. Once you've eaten fresh, traditional-style tempe you can't go back. Freakin’ good. Feby started the business because she couldn’t find tempe that tasted like home, and soon realized there are many of us who share her sentiment.

Feby learned to make tempe with advice from her mama, Ibu Sumi, using organic soybeans and US-sourced ragi, a fermentation starter.

“I was receiving this knowledge from her and thinking to myself, there is such a wealth of wisdom in our culture that hasn’t been uplifted. So why not start Reculture?” says Feby.

“I wanted to reclaim the stories of our past generations not highlighted or uplifted in the current industry.”

Reculture’s tempe aims for authentic flavor –– a perfect balance of nutty, loamy, and slightly sweet — but the project also values the stories and processes around making and eating it. When something you create demands patience, dedication, and frequent calls to your mom for advice, you develop a deep relationship to it.

Feby was raised in Orange County to Chinese-Indonesian parents. Since her parents were so busy working to support the family, it was a special treat when her mother would make an Indonesian meal. One of Feby’s favorites is choi pan, a steamed rice dumpling filled with jicama and shrimp that originated in China and migrated south, finding a permanent place in the cuisine of Ibu Sumi’s hometown, Sambas, in Kalimantan.

In California and beyond, tempe is an everyday health food slash meat alternative, but its use and flavor is far removed from its origins (think tempe bacon, tempe reubens, etc.) This is where Feby steps in where most have left off.

“[Indonesian food and] fermentation is extremely anti-capitalist,” says Feby. “It is more about the process and not so much about the product, although the product is delicious. It’s the labor that is really important.”

You’ll find tempe at any market, often fermented and sold in banana leaves. It’s delicious deep-fried 'til crisp and served with fresh hot chilies (a bite of tempe, a bite of chili, a bite of rice, repeat), pounded and mixed into spicy sambals, or softly stewed in soups. I especially love it stir-fried in coconut palm sugar and herbs, then crumbled into sweet, crispy little pieces to eat with rice.

Many Indonesians from our generation have lost interest in the time-consuming rituals of cooking Indonesian dishes from scratch, says Feby, so learning and preserving recipes hold extra weight these days. Just like an old language, if a recipe isn’t written down or learned by heart it will be forgotten.

The kitchen is where Feby and her mother’s relationship continues to strengthen. It took a year of consultations with Ibu Sumi and tweaking her fermenting process before Feby landed on a tempe she was really proud of. Each new batch takes two days of careful monitoring to complete, and still –– if conditions are just a little askew –– the tempe might have a tantrum like a fussy child and refuse to do as it’s told. But one could argue that is part of the fun.

“The best feeling in the world," says Feby, "is when my friends say, ‘Hey, I’m looking into my grandma’s recipe book because your stories really inspire me to look back.’”

How to find/make tempe our parents would be proud of:

Reculture Kitchen’s tempe subscriptions will open up in May, so if you’re local and as juiced on tempe as I am, fill out her interest form. If you can't find fresh-batch tempe in your area, Feby recommends making your own using this tutorial. But if you’re making dinner on the fly, the best store-bought version I’ve found is Tofurky's ‘Indonesian-style’ tempe which can often be found at your usual grocery haunts.

And –– buckle in y’all –– next month I'll be chatting with Chef Siska Silitonga from ChiliCali. Chef Siska, a culinary legend here in the Bay Area, hails from the Batak region of Sumatra, Indonesia, home to the largest volcanic lake in the world and some distinctive, delicious food. Chef Siska’s dishes are adventurous and enak sekali, and I’m so excited for you to meet her and try one of her recipes. See you next month!

If you have guest suggestions (send me your talented babes plsss!), criticisms, questions about a recipe, or would just like to drop me a line, please reach out!

xo and selamat makan,

Melati

Tempe Kering (also called Tempe Manis or Tempe Oseng) is a popular street food often served with rice and wrapped together in a banana leaf like a little present. It’s cheap and filling and not too messy and perfectly tangy and salty and crispy and sweet and spicy. Why not have nearly all the flavor elements? I love this dish as a semi-quick dinner, eaten with a side of sautéed greens, or just jasmine rice and sambal or a few fresh chillies. No wrong way to do this.

Serves 2-3

Origin: Java, but enjoyed everywhere.

INGREDIENTS

For the bumbu (blended spice paste):

- one 2-inch thumb of ginger

- 3 cloves garlic

- 2 small shallots (or one large)

- 2 candlenuts (can sub Brazil or macadamia nuts)

- 3 Thai chillies, de-seeded if you prefer less spice

- 1 tbsp salt

Other ingredients:

- 16 oz tempe, sliced into one-inch length pieces

- 4 Makrut lime leaves, de-veined and thinly sliced into slivers

- 1 stalk lemongrass, cut into two-inch pieces, bruised

- 1 tbsp + 1 tsp fresh ground coriander (pre-ground will do but it’s just not the saaame)

- 1 tsp sweet soy sauce

- 2 tbsp coconut palm sugar or brown sugar

- 3 tbsp tamarind concentrate, mixed with 1/4 cup water

- 1-2 Indonesian bay leaves (aka daun salam)

- 1 tbsp salt

- Neutral oil for frying (I like sunflower or refined coconut for their high smoke temp)

DIRECTIONS

1. In a large preferably non-stick pan, heat 4 tbsp oil on medium-high until it starts to shimmer. As it’s heating, sprinkle the tempe pieces with 1 tsp of coriander before carefully placing into the pan. Fry until the pieces are golden everywhere — about 3 minutes each side. Depending on your pan size, you may need to do this in two rounds, and do feel empowered to add an extra dash of oil the second time around if needed. Set the tempe aside on a paper towel or in a colander.

2. Meanwhile, add your bumbu ingredients into a food processor or mortar + pestle and blend or pound until smooth.

3. In another large pan, heat 1 tbsp oil on medium heat and add 1 tbsp coriander, toasting for 1 minute.

4. Add the bumbu, stirring frequently until golden, about 3 minutes. Add the makrut lime leaf pieces, lemongrass, and bay leaf and cook, stirring frequently until aromatic, about 2 minutes.

5. Add the tamarind water, sweet soy sauce, and coconut sugar and cook for another minute or until the liquid begins to thicken.

6. Add the fried tempe and mix gently but thoroughly so every piece gets coated in the sauce. Once the sauce has gone from ‘saucy’ to ‘tacky’ (about 2 minutes) you’re ready to eat.

Selamat makan! Happy eating!

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