Goat Feet Soup

Sometimes I'm bemused by the hooplas surrounding the seemingly 'groundbreaking' trend of cooking with offals or 'variety meats' by noted chefs or restaurants in America. The simple fact is, in many other countries, including Indonesia, utilizing the animal from 'head to toe' as food is a normal part of everyday cooking (and it makes a lot of economical sense!).

Sop Kaki Kambing (Goat Feet Soup) is a prime example of this don't-waste-any-part cooking philosophy. Yes, the goat's feet (hooves intact) are parts of the ingredients, as well as its various innards and other organs (known collectively here as jerohan), as you can see from the photos below.

Recently my husband and I went with a couple of friends to try one of the most famous Sop Kaki Kambing in Jakarta. As with many other well-known food establishments in this city, 'Sop Kaki Kambing Dudung Roxy' is not a dine-in restaurant, but rather a roadside food stall of the amigos (agak minggir got sedikit) dining style. From what I've heard, this place has been very popular for decades, with the grown children of the original 'pak Dudung' now running the operation. (Roxy is the name of the neighborhood where it's located).

Upon entering the tent we saw a long table lined with large bowls containing miscellaneous goat parts. All of these 'parts' have been pre-cooked, with the exception of one organ (you'll see it later). Each of us was given an empty bowl and down the line we went picking and choosing the parts on our own (actually my husband did, I opted for something else).

A closer look at the contents of one bowl: babat or tripe/stomach lining (the grayish stuff on the lower left) and various segments of usus or intestines.

What my husband chose: a leg/foot (mostly bone and tendons) and a hoof (skin on) ... and the delicacy better known here with the nickname of 'torpedo' (that creamy pink blob on the upper right): goat's testis. He went on to add other parts, mostly gristly and bony, which I couldn't identify...

He then gave his filled bowl to this guy, who chopped up everything before cooking them briefly in a soup base.

The completed soup: the chopped parts were now swimming in a savory broth made of thin coconut milk and spices, then sprinkled with thinly sliced scallions, chunks of fresh tomatoes, crispy deep fried shallots and emping belinjo (padi oats crackers). Hot steamed rice and various condiments (house sambal, pickled veggies, sweet soy sauce, lime wedges) rounded off the meal.

I did have a taste of my husband's soup, including a tiny bite of the 'torpedo' (I gave the rest back to him...) and a chunk of chewy gristle with tiny fragmented bones (which I also returned to his bowl). He (and our friends) seemed to enjoy this very textural experience for a meal, but I simply couldn't. Gnawing and chewing my way through these goat parts isn't my definition of a good time (but I somehow love picking apart and devouring a whole fish down to the bone... but that's another story).

As I mentioned above, I opted for another dish: Soto Betawi, essentially the same with Sop Kaki Kambing, but it's made with beef instead of goat. I had mine made with regular beef cuts and chunks of tendon, although I could also have lungs, hearts, etc.

Dudung Roxy also serves other dishes using goat meat such as satay (nicely charred, bathed in peanut sauce and sweet soy sauce... delicious!) and fried rice, but for most Jakartans, that name is synonymous with Sop Kaki Kambing.

The scene immediately outside the tent, the street is also lined with other food stalls offering their take on Sop Kaki Kambing!

A fish tale

One of the earliest and most enduring memories from my childhood is our family's frequent trips to a Sundanese/West Javanese restaurant just outside Jakarta. The dining area was on a traditional wooden pavilion built over a small lake, accessible by a bridge from the shore. But even before we got to the bridge, we'd pass a row of large ponds to choose our soon-to-be-lunch from the fish still swimming in there. A restaurant employee would then scoop the ones we pointed out and bring them to the kitchen to be cooked to our liking (deep fried or grilled). Lunch selected, we'd then walk across the bridge and be seated.

Our order would come with plenty of hot steamed rice, a plate of lalapan (raw vegetables such as cabbage, sliced cucumbers and kemangi/holy basil leaves) and freshly made sambal bajak (with the pungent terasi or fermented shrimp paste as a main ingredient) served on its cobek (stone mortar and pestle). Something about the gentle, cool breeze that flowed through unhindered by the 'wall'-less pavilion, the sound of water rippling across the lake and leaves rustling up in the trees, combined with the delicious aromas of the food would make all of us absolutely ravenous. Talk about the feast of the senses! Then we'd all dig in... no, make that 'attacked' the meal spread before us. No utensils needed here, everybody used their fingers, tearing into the fish, scooping it up with a mouthful of rice and a dab of sambal.

The fish... oh, the fish! It was definitely the star of the meal. Each one was left whole, only cleaned of its guts and scales. We'd compete for the skin, crispy and salty from being deep-fried, or charred and smoky from the charcoal fire. The flesh underneath was sweet, moist and succulent.

A grilled tilapia smothered with the hot and spicy Manadonese bumbu rica.

I really missed this kind of meal when I was living in Los Angeles. Seafood dining in American restaurants didn't hold much appeal to me. The seafood section in American supermarkets seemed very anemic and sterile with their uninspiring sliced fillets and fish 'steaks', in forms so far removed from the original creatures. There was so much of the fish that went to waste just to get a nice chunk of fillet!

Looking back, I don't think in all my years in America I had ever bought a whole fish from an American supermarket. It had always been the Asian/Chinese markets that had the best quality and selection of fresh (even live) seafood in town. The seafood counter there was always the most crowded as customers chose from row upon row of glistening tilapia, bonito, eel, yellow tail, etc., not to mentions from the live ones that were still swimming in large tanks. (Another bonus of Asian supermarket seafood counter: you can have your fish deep-fried for free! We would race home as its enticing aroma filled the car.).

While we often ordered fish in Chinese restaurants, it was almost impossible to find charcoal-grilled ones on the menu. Fish in Chinese cuisine are mostly steamed, deep-fried or stir-fried with other ingredients, never grilled.

There was one highlight of 'feasting on fish' while I lived in California: my husband and I and a couple of friends went fishing from the Huntington Beach Pier when I was about six months pregnant with our first child. It was a beautiful summer day and it got much better because after just a few hours of fishing, we caught over twenty bonitos, each about as long as a forearm (just in case you're wondering, yes, I caught a few also! I was a pregnant fisherwoman! Oh, by the way, we were warned by a few older ladies at church that it was verboten for the husband of an expectant woman to go fishing, because the child would be born very ugly. Huh? We happily ignored that. Not only did my husband go fishing a few times during my pregnancy, I sometimes tagged along too! As for our baby? He's one handsome little boy, thankyouverymuch!). Anyway, I digress. It was just about lunchtime when we left the pier with our bounty from the Pacific Ocean, so when we got home we immediately went to work to clean and broil a few of those beautiful bonitos (which are related to tuna and mackerel).

That was a superbly delicious lunch, to say the least. Those critters were still swimming in the ocean a couple of hours before that! The freshness was unbeatable.

But that kind of meal was very far and few in between in all my days of living in America.

So ever since we returned to Jakarta about a year ago, one of the things I've often indulged in is grilled whole fish. A medium-size fish weighing less than a pound (perfect for two people, or just me when I'm particularly hungry) is left whole or butterflied (with head and tail intact), then cooked to perfection over a charcoal fire. The best seasoning is usually the simplest: salt and lime juice, but there's always the additional sambal and ubiquitous kecap manis (sweet soy sauce) served on the side to spice things up.

A butterflied and grilled kwe fish with a simple sambal
made of sweet soy sauce, chopped chilies and shallots.

Here in Jakarta enjoying fish or seafood in restaurants is very affordable compared to southern California. One grilled baronang (a local fish related to perch) at one of our favorite seafood 'tent' restaurants here costs about Rp.40,ooo (less than US$4 at the time of this writing). Every time my husband and I eat there, our entire meal would cost only about Rp.100,000 (less than US$10).

When it comes to grilled fish, I devour it clean down to the bones. I save the head for last (a fish head is a terrible thing to waste!), slowly picking it apart and coaxing each savory bit from every nook and cranny. And as I did in my childhood, the only utensils I use are my fingers.

I'd stop only when the fish is reduced to a messy pile of bones on the plate.

Bone marrow porridge

Okay, okay... it's not actually the stuff you extract from an animal's bone, but a dessert named so because of its rich, melt-in-your-mouth texture that resembles cooked bone marrow (sumsum in Indonesian).

Bubur sumsum can be easily made at home from rice flour, coconut milk, sugar and salt, but more often than not, people simply buy it from the bubur sumsum vendor that hawks his stuff around the neighborhood (which is how I got this bowlful of goodies).

At its most basic, this white 'porridge' is eaten warm, topped with a sauce of thinned coconut milk or a syrup made from palm sugar. Others, like the street vendor I bought it from, treat the soft snowy mounds as a canvas for a myriad of toppings, as pictured above. Each of the 'topping' is also a dessert on their own terms: there are the yolk-like orbs of chewy biji salak (their characteristic taste and orange hue comes from a dough made mostly of yam or sweet potato), a spoonful of bubur ketan/pulut hitam (black glutinous rice porridge) and a smattering of pink tapioca pearls.

This was truly a comforting (and filling) dessert, perfect for a cool and rainy day!

If you'd like to make your own Bubur Sumsum, click here for a recipe, courtesy of Zara.

Dabu-dabu

When people ask me which cuisine I like best, my answer is Manadonese (Italian is second). Even my 20+ years of living in the United States couldn't erase that. Both of my parents came from Manado, a city on the northern tip of Sulawesi, which is known for its beautiful girls (ehm) and spicy, hot food. Although my siblings and I were all born and raised in Jakarta (on the island of Java), we grew up eating all types of dishes redolent of many herbs, spices and chilies -- the hallmark of Manadonese cooking.

Even if there was no spicy dish on the table on a particular meal, at the very least one type of condiment was always present: sambal (chili sauce) or, as they call it in Manado, dabu-dabu. And there are as many versions of sambal or dabu-dabu as there are cooks.

The sambal on the right is commonly known 'bumbu rica',
another Manadonese specialty.

Here's how I do the most simple, yet the most refreshing, of them all: dabu-dabu lilang. A meal of hot steamed rice, grilled or deep-fried fish (flavorful ones such as tuna, bonito and tilapia) and this piquant dabu-dabu is one of the best in my book!

Dabu-dabu Lilang

2 tomatoes (such as Roma), diced
3-4 large shallots, peeled and sliced thinly
(or you can substitute 1 small onion for the shallots, peeled and diced)
as few or as many Thai bird chilies as you can handle, sliced thinly
juice of 1 lime
salt
sugar

In a bowl, mix the tomatoes, shallots/onion, chilies and lime juice. Salt to taste. Mix in just enough sugar (start with a very small amount: just a pinch, then add more if needed) to take a bit off the edge of the sourness of the lime (it's not supposed to be sweet!). You can use this right away, or as I prefer it, let it sit for at least 15 minutes to let the juices from shallots/onions and tomatoes seep out and meld with that of the lime.

This yields a small bowl of dabu-dabu. This recipe is very flexible, you can multiply the amount as needed. If there's any leftover, it will keep for a few days, covered and refrigerated.

Those who are familiar with Mexican food will say it's very similar to pico de gallo. It is, except for the cilantro!

Kangkung and Papaya Blossoms

I don't remember ever eating the buds and blossoms of papaya when I was growing up in Jakarta. And I know for sure I never ate them while I was living in the United States (are they even available there?). But since returning to Indonesia a year ago, it's one more 'vegetable' I have fallen in love with.

Papayas are in abundance here. The ripe fruit is lusciously sweet, the green (unripe) one has a mild taste and is pleasantly crunchy, often used in fruit salads and spicy pickles. But the leaves, buds and blossoms, which are used in vegetable dishes, are a contrast in flavor: they're bitter. The bitterness, however, can be scaled back by boiling those parts before cooking them with the other ingredients.

Below is my favorite way to cook (and eat) papaya blossoms: the Manadonese style (which means it's hot and spicy)! If you live where papaya blossoms or kangkung are not available, don't despair (see my note after the recipe). This recipe is more about technique, actually: vegetables stir-fried in garlic and a bit of cooking oil. You just need to sauté the greens until wilted. This cooking method is simple, quick and versatile, used not only in Indonesian cooking, but also in many other Asian cuisines.


Manado-style Kangkung and Papaya Blossoms
serves 4 as a side dish

A large bunch of kangkung*
A large handful of papaya buds and blossoms (more or less, depending on your preference for bitter greens)
2 garlic cloves (more if you want), finely chopped
4-5 red chilies, thinly sliced on an angle
[if you want it really spicy, you can add a few chopped Thai/bird's eye chilies)
cooking oil
salt and pepper

First, clean the greens. Rinse the kangkung well and drain the excess water. Using your hands, scissors or knife, pluck/cut the leaves from the stems, but also include the cut green stems until about 5 cm below the leaves, they're still delicious and provide a nice crunch. Discard the lower stems. The prepped kangkung may look like a lot, but they'll cook down considerably.

Rinse and drain the buds (which look like short, light green Q-tips) and blossoms, discarding any hard stems. If you like very bitter greens, you can leave them as is. If not, you can cut back on the bitterness by boiling these (not the kangkung!) in water over medium heat for about 5 minutes. Drain well.

Heat a wok or sauté pan on high heat and swirl 2-3 tablespoons of cooking oil, making sure you coat all the surface. Sauté the garlic and chillies in the hot oil, stirring all the time. When the garlic is fragrant, but not yet browned, mix in the boiled (or raw, if you prefer) buds and blossoms. Stir for about 30 seconds. Then stir in the kangkung, working in batches if you need (waiting for the leaves in the pan to wilt, then adding the next handful, and on until all the kangkung is in the pan). Add salt and pepper to taste.

Take off the heat as soon as all the kangkung is wilted but still retains its green color. Don't overcook it. Serve immediately over hot steamed rice.

*Note: in southern California, kangkung (where it's labeled ong choy, water spinach or water convolvulus) is widely available at most Asian supermarkets. I don't know its availability in other parts of the United States (or other non-Asian countries). If neither papaya blossoms or kangkung is available, you can try substituting them with other dark leafy vegetables such as spinach, kale, collard greens, Chinese brocolli (gai lan/kai lan), bok choy, etc.

Hola, amigos!

No, this post isn't about Spanish or Mexican cooking. Although it's the Spanish word for 'friends', I learned a new meaning for amigos when I moved back to Jakarta, and it has nothing to do with friendship.

AMIGOS here stands for "Agak MInggir GOt Sedikit", loosely translated as "off to the side of the road, near the sewer". It aptly describes the setting of most street food 'establishments' that can be found in every part and neighborhood of Jakarta. These ubiquitous open-air food stalls usually go up in the evening (though some are also open in the daytime), erected on parking lots or other unoccupied corners or sidewalks as the sun goes down each day. The locations aren't exactly prime real estate: there's usually an open sewer/drainage (got) nearby, presumably to expedite cleaning up. They're nothing more than an open, portable kitchen, with tents on poles covering a cluster of rickety folding tables and plastic stools that have seen much better and cleaner days.



If you're a stickler for hygiene, this won't be your cup of tea. These amigos dives will definitely give any restaurant inspectors the heebie-jeebies. (Brings to mind the scene from Ratatouille when the Parisian food inspector unexpectedly walked into the kitchen and found hundreds of rodents staring back at him. Well, it's not that bad, but you get the picture). Food safety health code? (never heard of 'em!) Keeping food at safe temperatures? (huh? Note: although most dishes are cooked to order) Kamikaze flies the size of your thumbnail? (ambiance!) And I also find that any food stall worth its reputation will have a few wild cats slinking through the table legs (and yours), waiting for scraps.

There's not much for atmosphere (unless you count the noise and the exhaust fumes of passing vehicles and cigarette smokes from other diners as so), but that's not why people still flock to these places. And don't be mistaken, their customers come from every level of society: from those who could only afford to eat out at these stalls' rock-bottom prices, to the ones who drove up in their latest, newest luxury cars.

One of the best sop buntut (oxtail soup) we ever tasted
is served at a stall in Sunter, North Jakarta.
A complete meal consisting of this bowl of steaming, fragrant broth
full of falling-off-the-bones meat, a plate of rice
and a glass of tea cost about Rp.32.000 (~US$3).
It would cost at least twice that in a restaurant.

People come because some of Jakarta's best foods are served in these food stalls and they get the most bang for their rupiah. They come here simply for the food, at prices stripped of many overhead costs of proper dine-in restaurants, where similar meals can cost about twice as much, if not more. Most stalls specialize in one type of dish or meal: ie. sop buntut (ox-tail soup) only, or just nasi uduk (coconut rice complete with side dishes), or seafood, nasi goreng (fried rice), es campur (shaved iced over mixed fruit), satay, roti bakar (grilled sandwiches), etc. But if you want variety in your meal, it's no problem either, because there are usually many other stalls nearby, so you can hop from one to another, or simply have the other vendor bring your order to your table.

Sate ayam (chicken satay) with peanut sauce, ten skewers for Rp.8000
(about US$0.80 ... no, it's not a typo)

So if you can get over the 'ick' factor of eating out amigos style, and there are plenty of 'ick' if you are not familiar with it, there is truly a world of food to discover in the nooks and crannies of this city. In fact, street food was just about the only thing I missed about Jakarta during all my years living in Los Angeles, which, despite being world-famous for many other things, doesn't have any street-food scene to boast about. The closest thing there would be the food carts at seasonal county fairs, but then those 'street' grubs aren't exactly easy on the wallet either (five bucks for a plate of funnel cake? Gimme a break! My vote for cheap 'street' food in LA goes to the $1.50 quarter-pound hot dog at Costco, and that already includes as much soda as you can drink! Anyway... back to the subject).

Beyond the obvious economical benefits of eating out amigos style here, there's a more ingrained reason: it has been a part of the fabric of life and culture for as long as anybody can remember. The simple make-shift tents are as much a part of Jakarta's dining scene as the newer, cleaner, glitzier restaurants. I simply can't imagine living and eating in Jakarta without them. So as far as food goes, I have the best of both worlds.

The Omnivore's 100

I got this list from a food blog called "Very Good Taste", which, in turn, was referenced by the Epi-Log.

Just go down the list and see which food/beverage item you have tasted so far. Again, I didn't come up with the list, I just copied and pasted it from the VGT site. If you're wondering on the definition of an item (what's poutine*?), just Google it or search it in Wikipedia, or you can click here to go to the original article where the author has helpfully linked some items to their respective Wikipedia page.

Below are my results:
- bold black text = been there, done that
- (italicized text in parentheses) = my own personal notes, comments, etc.
- crossed-out text = I will never try this! Not even a taste, a nibble or a sip. No.

So, here we go... the VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp (gurame)
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart (most memorable: bacon-wrapped hot dog topped with grilled onions from a street vendor in Los Angeles' Garment District while hunting for bridesmaid's gowns with the bride-to-be and fellow bridesmaids. We each ate one. Not exactly helpful to our 'mission', huh?)
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes (plum wine: it tasted like cough medicine... yuck!)
19. Steamed pork buns (ba pao!)
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper (does raw Thai/bird's eye chili [cabe rawit] count?)
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters (I was only six when I first slurped a raw one from the shell. No, I didn't gag. I liked it.)
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail (nothing like a steaming bowl of 'sop buntut')
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects (I'd rather crush them flat with a sandal)
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu (ehh... no thanks, I don't have a death wish)
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer (in the form of spinach-based 'saag paneer')
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine*
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin (ugh! I don't think this is a 'food' item at all)
64. Currywurst ('curry' and 'wurst'? Those two words don't belong together)
65. Durian (oh yeah! The King of fruit that can humble the most adventurous eater)
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake (all of the above!)
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain (with garlic pork and rice & beans at a Cuban restaurant -- thanks, Edo!)
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette (deep fried pork intestine with porridge, anyone?)
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini (do I get a half-point credit?)
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill (bleeagghhh...)
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie (high school cafeteria flashbacks...)
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum (I miss the Sanam Luang in Pomona)
82. Eggs Benedict (... and Las Brisas in Laguna Beach)
83. Pocky (my kids love 'em, too!)
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant (... someday, someday...)
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers (papaya blossoms)
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish (pecel lele with lalapan and sambal terasi...)
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee (how about Kopi Lampung or Kopi Luwak?)
100. Snake

My results: 48.5 out of a 100 (the half-point comes from #72).

*poutine is a Canadian comfort food (some say heart-attack-on-a-plate) made from french fries "topped with fresh cheese curds, covered with brown gravy and sometimes additional ingredients".

Notes on #5, #89 and #100 (crocodile, horse, snake, respectively): my husband has been trying to get me to try them. There's a food stall here that specializes in 'sate kuda' (horse satay). Then there's a nearby Chinese restaurant named "Raja [King] Cobra", specializing in, what else? Dishes made from snake meat, heart, liver, etc. Thankfully, I haven't seen any crocodile meat featured in a menu so far. While I'm pretty resistant to his efforts at this point, I also have an 'I'll try (almost) anything once' philosophy when it comes to food. So maybe sometime in the future... stay tuned.

My dear husband also wants me to try a meat not found on this list: dog. 'Nuff said. (update: he tricked me into eating Fido! He gave a vague answer when I asked if it was pork or not. It wasn't.)

But there is another item not on this list that I very much enjoyed on several occasions while growing up: (with no disrespect to the Dark Knight) bat meat! ... Holy poutine, Batman!

Okay, so how did you do? Comments, please...