WORDS AND PHOTOS KEVINDRA SOEMANTRI

Since the very first time Gunawarman joined as an extension of the Senopati gourmet belt, I have been both excited and exhausted with what seems to be endless restaurant openings.

From Chris Janssen’s phenomenal French bistro Le Quartier; war of dirt-your-table crab restaurants; to swanky, bourgeois-magnet Plaza Athenee-like The Gunawarman with Sofia as it flagship dining spot. The list goes on to millennials hub H-Gourmet and acclaimed Turkish restaurant, Turkuaz by Sezai Korlu (which opened earlier than any of the names above).

But lately an establishment just opened, another collection under the quirky (in a good way) PTT family. The first time I was informed about this restaurant was by a colleague of mine, a food writer also, fellow warrior of pen, paper and taste buds.

The name itself pinched my curiosity as Attarine is mostly associated with Al-Attarine Madrasa, the 670-year-old madrasa (Islamic educational institution) at the heart of the spice and perfumery market in the city of Fez, Morocco. Yet I expected something out of the very name to be encountered at Attarine on Gunawarman.

Should the place mimic the Middle-Eastern grandeur of Maroush at Crown Plaza or Al-Nafoura’s tavern-like dining room?

Will the food be another kind of steamy lamb tagine with fig, presented in such a mysterious way to trigger patrons’ curiosity and end up with two kinds of fragrant, sticky, layers of baklava?

As Attarine was built on the ashes of Torino, a one-hit-wonder Italian restaurant, it must be an attractive oddness to have Middle Eastern cuisine—or at least what I thought—at swanky Gunawarman.

As my Uber stopped on the right side of the street, I realized this is not what I expected it to be. Attarine turned out to be fashioned with a modest, modern, casual façade with just a spotlight illuminating the carved logo of the restaurant. Its dining room was not your typical Mediterranean, surprisingly; a pastel-green vintage Fiat sat in the midst, with a wooden bar counter that stretches from end to end, vibrant atmosphere that is as exciting as their fried chicken in a bed of perfectly seasoned lentils and drizzle of fragrant spiced honey.

It was fried chicken off the chart, generously seasoned, just perfect crispness on the skin—a sign of moderate dredging—with juicy and moist meat singed with glistening juice that coated the white flesh.

The chef is Jacob Burell, former head chef of the acclaimed Big Sur Bakery in California, which Christine Muhlke of The New York Times described as “hearty California cuisine with furious soul”. He also sharpened his knife in the kitchen of three Michelin-starred Manresa restaurant in Los Gatos.

When a chef of his caliber runs an establishment, excitement must be evident. As we enjoyed our next dish, a pile of sweet and succulent shrimp cooked in an iron skillet, bathed with fragrant chili with an addictive sourness of tamarind and freshness that resulted from a bunch of coriander, chef Jacob in the most humble—and quite silent persona—camouflaged himself behind the counter bar, making sure that everything was up to his standard. The buzz of the dining room seems not to have affected the sharpness and attention to detail performed by the service team.

As the night gets darker, Attarine is merrier. “I love the ambience, it feels like I’m always welcome here”, says a lady while sipping on her Jamu Royal, a signature drink of Attarine, an elevated Javanese herbal drink.

Then a waitress approached our table as she recommended our group to order the wood-fired whole fish, which during our visit we got white snapper.

At the edge of the kitchen bar counter is a blazing brick oven to cook flatbreads and other grilled dishes. Our table was a long communal table, covered with a traditional Middle Eastern woven fabric. It felt like we were in the middle of a bar mitzvah celebration as the grilled fish arrived, with an aroma of herbs (mostly dill) used to cook the fish. Uneven crispness of the skin was a sign of the rustic grilling process (which is totally fine) and a delicate smokiness from the wooden grill.

The way of eating at Attarine is very communal, every dish is presented in a sharing portion, a home-like experience, but finer. Yet from all those tasty, playful manifestations of chef Jacob’s creations, you must not miss the rustic flatbread, unlike any other accompaniment is the dip of za’atar-infused sumac (a Middle Eastern indigenous spice with distinctive tangy flavor and aroma). When the simplest of creations turned out to be a dish worth remembering, then it is a phenomenon.

I would gladly visit Attarine again, sitting at the spacious bar counter or perusing the art works in the restaurant waiting for another surprising dish by Jakarta’s most exciting new establishment.

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