3am. Bali, Indonesia. I exit the club. Drunkenly slipping in and out of coherence, my gurgling stomach eventually grabs the attention of my ringing ears. I have to get something to eat.
Out of all the late-night culinary delights that my home island has to offer — street pizza, the allegedly fresh convenience store sushi, the fried chicken stall down the road — I find myself naturally gravitating towards Pondok Duo (in English: Two Hills), a traditional Padang restaurant open 24/7. It is a bit out of the way, but it serves the island’s best rendang daging, a succulent, spicy, coconut-based braised beef dish.
As I stand in the parking lot, peering eagerly through the restaurant’s window display, I am warmly greeted by high-stacked plates of assorted gorengan (traditional deep-fried tempeh, tofu, and vegetables, similar to Japanese tempura). Tantalising aromas of coconut, chilli and ginger waft under my nose. My stomach gurgles turn into growls as I join the queue of late-night diners, waiting for my turn.
As a whole, Indonesian cuisine incorporates a sprawling variety of dishes from over 1300 ethnic groups, resulting in utterly unique and complex flavours passed down through centuries of diverse cultural development. However, the archipelago’s culinary fare is poorly documented. The survival of these recipes has long relied on oral tradition, often in endangered indigenous languages or regional dialects. In Indonesia, food is not only celebrated for its taste, it is a medium to communicate cultural identity, playing a vital role in traditional celebrations and modern ceremonies.
Throughout its history, Indonesia’s bountiful natural resources ensured its importance in the spice trade, a lucrative market that subsequently introduced many foreign ingredients and influences to the archipelago’s cuisine. Chillies, for example, a fundamental ingredient in Indonesian cuisine, were imported by Portuguese colonists from South America. Nutmeg and clove are well-known spices indigenous to Indonesia, while the country’s equatorial climate was favoured by Dutch colonists for vanilla, cinnamon, and pepper plantations. All of these ingredients have since established their roles in celebrated Indonesian dishes.
“Padang restaurants are ubiquitous throughout Indonesia, an institution that comprises an essential part of Indonesian nightlife, embodying centuries of indigenous culture.”
Originating from the Minangkabau, West Sumatra’s largest ethnic group, Padang cuisine is known for its fiery spices and generous application of coconut milk, a combination that has made it my firm favourite. Each dish carries strong Indian and Middle Eastern influences due to its geographical position along the Maritime Silk Road. Padang restaurants are ubiquitous throughout Indonesia, an institution that comprises an essential part of Indonesian nightlife and embodies centuries of indigenous culture.
At long last, I reach the counter. Finally, time to assemble my plate. Shielded behind a protective screen, the waiter starts off by scooping a generous portion of plain white nasi (rice) onto the centre of my plate. Billowing steam from the rice cooker and bubbling cauldrons of stews and curries fill the background ambience. The smell is entrancing, the air is hot and heavy. I stare greedily at the display of colourful gulai (curries) served in large glass dishes, slowly deciding which delicious combination I am craving on this occasion. In Pondok Duo, the dishes are not labelled, so I simply point at the dish I want to communicate with the waiter behind the glass.
Tonight, I keep things simple. Alongside my rice, I get terong balado – stir-fried aubergine in a traditional Padang balado sauce combining tomatoes for a sweet and sour tang, chillies for a kick of spice, as well as coconut oil, kaffir lime leaves, garlic, and shallots for those crucial additional boosts of flavour. The aubergine is bruised and tender, pairing perfectly with the balado.
Pondok Duo’s gulai nangka muda is another favourite of mine, a turmeric and coconut-based Indonesian jackfruit curry. There are many variations of gulai across the islands, but the Minangkabau version has a lot more chillies than a more conventional Javanese gulai would, hence its deep red colour. Nangka muda (young jackfruit) has a fairly neutral taste but serves to absorb all of the curry’s flavours during cooking. The result is a soft, broth-filled bite of jackfruit.
“Infused with clove, star anise, and the most important ingredient – time -, this moist, spoon-tender, caramelised beef dish can only be described as heavenly.”
Next, we come to my favourite dish, the rendang daging. Sinewy hunks of beef are slowly simmered in a bath of coconut milk until all the liquids evaporate. At least fifteen ingredients make up the spice base and the cooking time alone can take up to seven hours. Infused with clove, star anise, and the most important ingredient, time, this moist, spoon-tender, caramelised beef dish can only be described as heavenly.
Finally, a series of assertive nods tells the waiter that I want more broth on my rice, a couple more pieces of meat, and some perkedel kentang (potato fritters) on the side. The exchange is fleeting, as he quickly scribbles down my order before moving on to the next customer.
I join my friends inside the restaurant to devour my drunken meal. Sterile white lights and kitsch decor — think motivational Pinterest quotes laid over stock-image backgrounds — are the typical markers of a high-quality Padang restaurant, but tonight everyone is too engrossed in the food to make any insightful comments. Every so often, the silence is broken by an occasional slurp, the clatter of cutlery, or one of my friends expressing their appreciation for Pondok Duo mid-munch. Each and every morsel of food offers a new taste sensation, I discover different combinations of flavours and textures until my very last bite. Full to the brim, I wash my meal down with es teh tawar (unsweetened iced tea), the perfect way to end a long night.
“While Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam have all exported their culinary presence to Ireland’s shores, Indonesian cuisine remains painfully absent from the Dublin food scene.”
Several months later, I am back in Dublin. As I stumble home after a heady night out, I scan the dark and shuttered restaurant windows, longing for the familiar. While Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam have all exported their culinary presence to Ireland’s shores, Indonesian cuisine remains painfully absent from the Dublin food scene. Though I have noticed rendang on the menu of several takeouts, in my heart, there is no substitute for the authentic Padang experience. I have also tried recreating this dish myself, but nevertheless, I have always been short of a few key ingredients.
Even as I write these words, I find myself craving the scents and flavours of home.