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By the way ... Eating is not such a simple exercise

Eating is not as easy as it looks

The Jakarta Post
Sun, September 22, 2013

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By the way ...   Eating is not such a simple exercise

E

ating is not as easy as it looks. An exposure to certain flavors and culinary cultures at a tender age, one'€™s own idiosyncrasies, peer pressure and advertising messages may likely shape one'€™s eating preferences and habits.

I was among the one of the first people to eat at Kentucky Fried Chicken when it opened in Jakarta back in 1978. Lured by ads '€” designed to make people believe something was amiss if they did not eat the famous chicken '€” I had to travel all the way to the capital from my Central Java hometown.

But this Americanization never managed to take away my love for traditional cuisine '€” mostly coconut milk-based Javanese, Padang and Peranakan dishes, from gudeg (jackfruit stewed in coconut milk) to gulai ayam (chicken in coconut milk curry) '€” that I had almost every day when growing up.

Looking back, I feel ashamed at how easily my mind succumbed to ads and popular tastes, especially after knowing that comfort and junk foods are high in sodium and fat.

However, my friend, who is the son of a Sukarno-era diplomat, continues to love fast food despite being diabetic and having high cholesterol '€” a craving he found hard to stop after eating such food virtually daily while he was growing up in the US, Argentina and Europe.

The idea that aligning oneself to Western cuisine is a sign of modernity, prestige and culinary maturity is still prevalent today, as seen from crowded fast food restaurants and the number of executives who frequent cafés and bistros.

Yes, first loves never die but as income levels soar, taste buds can be taught to love higher-end restaurant food and shun the cheaper alternatives.

A relative of mine, who regards eating at fast food chains self-depreciating, took me to a Brazilian restaurant, a novelty in Jakarta at the time, and ordered a lot of barbecued meat and Brazil'€™s national dish, feijoada.

I proceeded to tell him what I had once been told at a Brazilian party '€” that this mixture of rice, beans, meat, kale, orange slices, bananas and manioc was Brazilian slaves'€™ food. My relative reacted angrily.

I am not belittling impoverished people'€™s food or the lowly origins of some cuisines. In fact, the stir-fried red skin of paddy oats strobili with anchovies (tangkil teri goreng) that a seaweed gatherer once generously gave me for lunch under a tree near a Dutch-built lighthouse in Serang, Banten, was among the best kampung food I have ever had.

And so was the West Javanese salad, karedok, prepared by a Betawi grandma one morning in Palmerah, West Jakarta; or the tamarind vegetable soup (sayur asem) sold by a Javanese woman in Bintaro, South Jakarta, to help her husband make ends meet during the Asian economic crisis some 15 years ago.

Such food is elusive, as it was prepared wholeheartedly by these simple women for their own families, untainted by commercial greed.

And exposure to such great traditional foods, many of which are no longer seen, has made me choosy.

Once, I was at odds with my friend over the famous rawon setan, a spicy beef stew we had on Jl. Embong Malang in Surabaya, which he thought was delicious. When I told my Surabayan friend that it was only so-so, he told me I had to be a Surabaya man to appreciate it.

Of course, it is easier to appreciate a dish if you hail from where it comes from, although the reverse can also be true.

But sometimes, better food can be had beyond its birthplace and cuisine that is highly praised by many is not necessarily delicious to all the people all the time. After all, what constitutes delicious comes down to individual taste, especially with regard to foreign offerings.

When I was first exposed to kapurung or papeda (sticky, starchy, jelly-like sago) at an eatery in Palopo, South Sulawesi, I wondered how the locals could enjoy eating glue. But then I decided to approach it with respect, eating it with fish soup and vegetables and then I began to enjoy it.

Still, in the back of my mind, I could not help thinking that if only these people could get to know the soft, fragrant rice of Java cooked in pandanus leaves and coconut milk, they may readily abandon this primitive dish.

But later, I realized I was so wrong. When I mentioned papeda to a Maluku friend, who grew up with the food but had been living in Jakarta for years and been exposed to more '€œsophisticated'€ cuisine, I noticed his eyes mist over. In a nostalgic mood, he told me how much he missed it. Eating is indeed not a simple thing.

'€” Arif Suryobuwono

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