Tag: Indonesian food

Travel notes from Indonesia above water

Travel notes from Indonesia above water

Our recent trip to Indonesia was mainly about diving (see the previous post). But as on all diving trips, there was also a day or two of seeing around, in fairly out of the way parts of the country. Our first day out was in the small port of Labuha (population 10,000, according to our guide), on Pulau Bacan in the Maluku Islands, aka the Moluccas, the famed Spice Islands which were of such great interest to European colonists. (“Pulau”, by the way, means “Island”, and the “c” in “Bacan” is pronounced “ch”). Our second was in the considerably larger city of Manado (population 458,582, according to Wikipedia, or 1.4m for its metropolitan area) at the Northern end of Sulawesi – the large island immediately recognisable on a map because of its spidery arms.

Here, in no particular order, are some impressions that we gathered about the country.

Firstly, there’s been a lot of development, most probably in relatively recent years. My memories of past visits to Malaysia or Indonesia are of a lot of simple wooden buildings in a fairly standard style that you would see anywhere in Asia, and not all that well maintained – the climate doesn’t really lend itself to the spick and span look to which Europeans aspire, and in any case, doesn’t need it in terms of perfect insulation. In both locations on this trip, there were plenty enough of these, but there were also large numbers of modern structures in concrete and steel. The bigger and fancier ones were either government buildings or places of worship (mosques in Labuha, churches in Manado), showing clear evidence of investment from sources outside the region. But even ordinary homes included some buildings that looked very solid and well made.

Labuha market

The growth very much follows a ribbon development model. On both routes from our boat mooring point to the city, there was hardly any open countryside bordering immediately onto the road – for almost the whole length of the road, there was a strip of buildings one deep (be they houses, shops or something larger). These were not major roads; the road quality seemed to be very good along most of the length, but with multiple places where the weather had wrecked a chunk of road. Particularly near Manado, there were a fair number of crews mending the worst damage – but for the most part, these were very small crews with very little equiment – a couple of men with shovels and a sack of cement.

Labuha market

Fundamentally, Indonesia has the potential to be a wealthy country. It was a major oil producer in the past and remains a major gas producer, with an annual production of around 60 billion cubic metres – which makes it the largest in the region after China and Australia. And it’s incredibly fertile: pretty much anything can grow here. I can’t really speak for the large populous cities in Java and Sumatra, but in Manado, our guide related how a US visitor had told him that whatever apocalypse happened in the world, “you’ll be fine here. You’ll always be able to feed yourselves”.

And, indeed, the country was an incredibly foody place. We were expecting the glorious spice traders in Labuha – after all, the place has been the epicentre of nutmeg, mace and cloves for centuries. What we weren’t expecting was the incredible food market, with dozens of stalls selling all manner of fruit and vegetables, bean curds, spices, palm tree products, raw and smoked fish, chickens. The quality and vareity of vegetables was the real eye opener: ranging from characteristically Asian items like long beans and pak choi through to recent imports like avocados, through to things we’d never heard of like papaya flowers (tasty, and allegedly good for diabetics). The two lunches we had on these trips were in pretty ordinary hole-in-the-wall type places, and the food on both was outstanding, doing full justice to these lovely ingredients.

Nutmegs

The other food and beverage surprise was a reminder that this is a coffee-growing country:  one of the best cappuccinos I’ve had in a long time was served to us in the improbable venue of the Hapa Kitchen and Bakery, a small café airside in Manado Airport.

We had several reminders of how religiously and ethnically diverse the country is. While most of it is Muslim, there are big Hindu areas (most notably Bali) and big Christian areas (of which Manado is one). In the past, different religions seem to have co-existed in relative harmony, but there was a bad conflict, “the Ambon Riots”, in the Maluku Islands at the turn of the millennium. The obvious visible effect of this was at the end of class time at a very large boarding school, with hundreds of girls spilling out of the school wearing hijabs. According to our guide, the wearing of hijabs started in the wake of the Ambon Riots. The other sign of diversity was seeing instructions in more than one language: while the vast majority of Indonesians speak the lingua franca Bahasa Indonesia, it’s the primary language of only 20% of the population, with over 800 languages recorded in 2010. (Having said which, both Manado and Labuha have a higher-than-average proportion of Bahasa-speakers).

The flora and fauna are also diverse. Like most British, I suspect, I was unaware of the name of the Victorian naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace, a contemporary of Darwin who gave his name to the “Wallace Line” which splits Indonesia down the middle, with mainly Asian species on one side and Australisian species on the other. That made it surprising to discover that Wallace is very much remembered in the Maluku Islands, where he did a substantial amount of field work. Our guide on Bacan island wore a T shirt emblazoned with the gorgeous butterfly Ornithoptera croesus, otherwise known as Wallace’s Golden Birdwing. There are also many species whose latin names have the suffix “wallacei”.

Tunan Telawaan waterfall near Manado

Having said all this good stuff, you can’t deny that Indonesia is still a developing country, and there are things that you’d hope they will improve – for example, our seat belts only worked on one car journey out of six. Generally, attitudes to safety seem on the lax side – we certainly saw that on our boats, with luggage piled up in front of the compartment with the life jackets, or with the boat handler cheerfully smoking a cigarette three feet away from a fuel tank whose cap had been replaced by a bit of rag. And I’ve already mentioned the most important of my worries in the diving post – plastic pollution. There are separated recycling bins in Manado airport, which I suppose is a start, but we did see an awful lot of food packaging littered on the streets.

Still, those are relatively modest cavils. The truth is, all we got was a little sampler of this fascinating country. I hope I’ll be back for more some day – and to other islands.

Around the world in 80 bakes, no.70: Kue Lapis Legit – “thousand layer cake” from Indonesia

Around the world in 80 bakes, no.70: Kue Lapis Legit – “thousand layer cake” from Indonesia

Several multi-layer cakes have featured in this series. But there’s one multi-layer cake to rule them all, which is distinguished by the thinness of the layers and the deliciousness of the caramelisation of each. It’s from the unlikely provenance of Indonesia, where it was originally baked by Dutch colonists, and it goes under several names. In Indonesian, it’s Kue Lapis Legit (Lapis Legit for short); in Dutch, its Spekkoek, named because the stripy layers that you see in cross-section reminded the Dutch of the layers in pork belly (“spek”).

What makes Lapis Legit unique is the cooking method: you spread a thin layer of fairly liquid batter over the cake and cook it under the grill (Americans: broiler) until brown and caramelised, repeating this many times to form the characteristic brown and yellow stripes of the cake’s cross section.

In neighbouring Sarawak (the half of Borneo that is in Malaysia rather than Indonesia), they have elevated Kek Lapis (as they call it there) to a fine art, using multiple colours for the layers and cutting the blocks to form intricate patterns. I’m sticking to the basic yellow-and-brown version, starting from this recipe in “Daily Cooking Quest” by Minnesota-based Indonesian cook Anita.

Although the cake looks complex, it’s not excessively time-consuming, certainly not so by comparison with some of the bread and patisserie items in this blog: it took me around two hours end-to-end plus half an hour’s cooling time. However, unlike normal cakes, that’s two hours of constant attention – there are virtually no periods of down time in which you can do something else while the cake is in the oven.

And the results, even on a first attempt, were absolutely worth it – one of the best and most interestingly different cakes I’ve made.

Setting up

  1. Preheat your oven to 200℃ fan.
  2. Use a cake tin with a removable base. If possible, use a square tin, because the cake cuts into rectangles really nicely: mine is 22cm square and worked OK, but 18-20cm would work better, giving you the opportunity for more layers. Line the bottom with baking paper, grease the sides with butter.
  3. You will need three bowls for your stand mixer. I only have two, so I improvised by making the sabayon mix in a separate copper bowl and using a hand mixer to whisk it, thus avoiding scraping and washing up in mid process.

The butter base

  • 300g butter
  • 120g sweetened condensed milk
  • 1 tbs rum
  • 90g plain flour
  • ¼ tsp salt
  • ¼ tsp ground cinnamon
  • ¼ tsp ground nutmeg
  • ¼ tsp ground mace (if you have it – I didn’t)
  1. If your butter isn’t yet at room temperature, chop it into small pieces and leave it for a few minutes to soften.
  2. In your first mixing bowl, combine the butter, condensed milk and rum. With the standard beater, mix at medium speed until fluffy (Anita says 8 minutes – mine took half that).
  3. Mix flour salt and spices and add to the bowl, mix for another minute or so until smoothly combined.

The sabayon mix

  • 12 eggs
  • 85g caster sugar
  1. Separate the eggs: put 12 yolks in one bowl and 6 whites into another, which ou’ll be using for the meringue part of the cake mix (discard the other 6 whites, or keep them for making other stuff).
  2. Add the sugar to the egg yolks and whisk at high speed until the reach the consistency of thick cream. They’ll never quite achieve the stiffness of whipped cream, but you can get close.

The meringue mix

  • 6 egg whites from above
  • 55g caster sugar
  • ¼ tsp cream of tartar
  1. Using the whisk of your stand mixer, beat the eggs at high speed until soft and frothy
  2. Add the sugar and cream of tartar, and beat at high speed until you have a stiff meringue

Putting it together

  1. If the sabayon mix has gone a bit liquid while you were making the meringue, whisk it for another minute or so.
  2. Add the sabayon mix into your butter base and mix using the standard beater until smoothly combined.
  3. Fold the meringue into your mixture until smoothly combined, with no bits of unmixed egg white left.
  4. Pour a couple of ladelfuls of mix into your cake tin and spread it so that you have a thin, even layer. Ideally, you want around 3-4mm thickness (on the photos here, I was somewhat over that).
  5. Put in the middle shelf of the oven and bake until the top is golden. You’ll need something like 8 minutes, but check it after 5-6, because it really depends on your oven and on the thickness of your mixture.
  6. Take the cake out of the oven and switch it to its top grill setting at maximum temperature (or set up your separate grill if that’s what you have). Move the oven shelf to its highest position.
  7. Pour another ladelful or so of mixture into the tin. It will go more liquid as it contacts the hot surface. Your objective now is to get the thinnest possible layer of mixture that completely covers the whole cake: I achieved this by the combination of using an offset spatula and by tilting the tin in different directions until the coverage was smooth.
  8. Put the cake under the grill, and cook until golden brown. This will take between one and two minutes: you need to watch it like a hawk because the difference between uncaramelised yellow and burnt can be as little as 20 seconds.
  9. Take the cake out and repeat until you have run out of mixture. You’re trying to get as many layers as you can – I managed around 8.
  10. Once you’ve grilled the last layer, take the cake out and cool it in the tin for around half an hour.
  11. Finally, put a knife around the sides to make sure the cake has come away from all four sides, and take the cake out of the tin (if the tin has a removable base, this should be very easy).
  12. Enjoy…