Do the Mashed Potato

The perkedel, pre-oil bath

Growing up, we kids got a good dose of perkedel,a circular, fried mashed potato dotted with bits of ground beef. It's essentially a potato cake. Plunked into a bowl of soto ayam, perkedel adds a weighty element to the clear, thin broth. Along with strips of omelet, chunks of tomato and slices of cucumber, mounds of perkedel serve as an "accessory" to nasi kuning, a yellow rice dish often served on special occasions. Enjoyed by itself, the perkedel becomes a gastronomical vice, as it's quite easy to pop one after another into your mouth like popcorn as you sit and watch a movie.


The perkedel, mushy and "unbrowned"

Now that I'm a mature lass getting in touch with her culture and its exotic cuisine, perkedel is just one of the countless dishes on my "to-cook" list. I tried my hand at frying up a batch of my own perkedel, using the recipe below. 'Seems like a no-fail set of instructions, right? Boil up your spuds, mash them up, mix them with the seasonings and the ground beef, form them into balls, flatten them, then fry away. I followed the steps to a tee, but once my potato cakes hit the bubbly oil, I was in deep-fried trouble. For some reason, the perkedel was just not browning up. What am I doing wrong, I pondered. I flipped the spudsy goods from one side to another, hoping to speed things along. Instead of the nice, crunchy exterior I was hoping for, my perkedel remained soft. Plus, a few of them ended up getting smashed from all my fiddling about. I salvaged this mess though and just ate this set of perkedel as is.


Ahhh, finally, the perkedel, nice and browned

Never one to throw in the dish towel, I cooked the rest of the perkedel on a flat skillet (as the instruction notes you have the option of doing) instead of the deep frying pan I used for the first brigade. And I report that I achieved better results. The perkedel browned up more quickly and completely. Different kitchen tools produce different results. I was able to enjoy the perkedel as they're meant to be -- as mini crisp-fried cakes, not messy, clumps of potato.

Ingredients:

* 2 lb Baking potatoes boiled and -mashed
* 1 1/2 ts Salt
* 1/2 ts Freshly ground pepper
* 2 ts Ground coriander
* 1/8 ts Nutmeg
* 1/4 c Chopped parsley leaves
* 1 lg Egg
* 2 tb Peanut oil plus more for -deep frying
* 4 Shallots finely chopped
* 2 Garlic cloves minced
* 1/2 lb Lean ground beef.

Mix together the mashed potatoes 1 teaspoon of the salt half the pepper the coriander nutmeg parsley and egg. Preheat a wok until hot. Add 2 tablespoons of the oil the shallots and garlic; saute until soft. Add beef and stir to break up clumps; brown until meat is no longer red about 2 minutes. Season with remaining salt and pepper. Cool. Combine the meat with the potato mixture. Form into 16 balls and flatten them into cakes about 2 inches round by 1 inch thick. Set on a tray. Refrigerate if not fried immediately. Pour 2 inches of oil into a preheated wok. Heat to 365F. Add 4 or 5 cakes or as many as will fit into the pan without crowding or reducing the temperature of the oil. Deep fry turning occasionally until golden brown about 3 minutes. (If preferred the cakes may be pan-fried in a flat skillet.) Remove to paper towels to drain. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Source: www.elook.org

Two Rounds at Minangasli

At Minangasli, the atmosphere is simple but the food is complex

The problem with many Indonesian restaurants in the U.S. Is that they tend to be well, not very Indonesian. The décor may be spot on, with tables covered with batik fabric, walls adorned with wayang (Indonesian puppets) and corners fitted with wooden banana trees, but the food itself borders on the Chinese or Pan-Asian flavors. It seems logical. After all, the goal of these restaurants is to satisfy the American palate. But why eat Americanized Indonesian food when you can dive into the real deal?

In the heart of Little Asia (as I like to dub it) in Elmhurst, Queens, there's a no-frills Indonesian eatery that serves anything but no-frills food. Minangasli's simple appearance is a cover-up to a tantalizing menu full of authentic, complicated flavors. The home-cooked choices included everything from the innocuous sate kambing (lamb satay) to the more audacious teri petai balado (dried anchovies and stink bean covered with an Indonesian chili sauce). Soup lovers can be treated to a bowl of soto ayam (chicken soup) or sop buntut (oxtail soup) served with steamed white rice. In between all of your chomping, drink up on a box of the Sosro (a refreshing Indonesian iced tea) or jus durian (durian juice). For those who want a quick to-go snack, let your eyes scan the shelves and fridge for packaged krupuk udang (shrimp chips), puddings and cakes.


The pempek was on the tough side, but the sauce was bold and fiery

To launch our premier dinner at Minagasli, my friend Wen and I ordered some pempek Palembang. Hailing from the city of Palembang in Southern Sumatra, pempek, also known as empek-empek, are squares of deep-fried fish cake served with cucumber in a sweet and sour vinegar sauce. My mom makes the best empek-empek. And after biting into Minangasli's version, I have to say my mom's handiwork still reigns supreme. Minangasli's empek-empek was on the hard, semi-chewable side. My mom's fish cakes are always tender and hide a special treat that Minangasli omits—pieces of hard-boiled egg. We still enjoyed eating Minangasgli's morsels of fishy fun, and especially appreciated swirling them in the super-hot vinegar sauce.


Nasi rames with empal

Besides, our phenomenal nasi rames made up for the tough-as-nails pempek. Nasi rames can be likened to a soul-food style combination platter. In Minangasli's case, your plate includes steamed rice, a hard-boiled egg, jackfruit and your meat of choice. I was craving dendeng that night, which is a sweet and spicy fried beef jerky, but alas, the restaurant was out of this yummy delicacy. After a few seconds of pouting, I settled on the empal, which is a suppler version of beef jerky. It was covered with a generous amount of crunchy fried onions. Wen completed her nasi rames order with ayam goreng (fried chicken) for her meat. Portions are fairly hearty at Minagasli, as you get a heap of the rice and decent handfuls of the meat and jackfruit. My empal was soft and practically melted in my mouth. The egg was covered with spicy chili and onions, balado style. I felt doubly piggish when it came to the jackfruit. Fortunately, Wen dislikes jackfruit, so she happily handed over her batch to me which I then happily devoured. Jackfruit's texture and consistency are similar to that of the artichoke. It can be eaten in a sweet or savory manner. Minanglasi cooks its jackfruit up with an impeccable chili sauce.

After our scrumptious first-time experience at Minangasli, I couldn't stop fantasizing about the place. I raved about it to all my foodie friends, describing its authentic home-spun tastes and cozy atmosphere. One week later, I brought three other gastronomical kindred spirits, Michael, Shing and Alan, to Minangasli. On this Sunday afternoon, the tiny place drew a larger and rowdier crowd than what we encountered the Saturday night that Wen and I went on. It turns out Minangasli has a basement dining area to accommodate the overflowing turnout. Even that space is compact, so we were lucky to score our seating right away. This time, we started our lunch with orders of martabak, ground beef, onion and egg deep-fried in a flour shell, (what I like to call a “flattened” springroll), and tahu isi, crispy tofu bursting with veggies, like carrots and beansprouts, and served with a fiery peanut sauce. Incidentally, the martabak was fluffy like a pancake, a different take from the crackly ones I'm used to.

(Sorry...no photos. I forgot to bring my camera.)

Moving on, I urged the others to order the nasi rames. My dendeng craving and Shing's dendeng curiosity got fulfilled that day. I was expecting the beef to come out in the form of a pliable “chip,” glistening with sugar, a la teriyaki, and speckled with chili flakes. Instead, Minagasli's spin on dendeng are delicious shreds of crispy beef, the ideal companion to the cloud-like steamed rice. Michael ordered his trademark extreme cuisine, this time, the nasi rames with gulai otak – that's beef brain doused in a lemongrass-enhanced coconut milk sauce, folks. As for Alan, he conquered the nasi rames with gulai kikil, beef tendon covered with the aforementioned sauce.
Shing and I treated ourselves to jus alpukat, a smooth blend of avocado juice with melted chocolate while the guys opted for a more potent “tonic” -- the jus durian.

As much as I wanted to head to back to Minangasli for the third time in a row, I refrained from the indulging. If I go too often, the place and the food may lose their luster. I'll continue to appreciate Minangasli if I "pulse out" my visits. Besides, I must cook more of my own homestyle goodies! I've got to replicate Minangasli's killer jackfruit, which by the way, Michael, Shing and Alan love and did not hand over to me like Wen did. Sigh.

To Grandmother's House We Go....

Actually, the title of this post should be "To Grandmother's House They Go." I'm quite envious that my mom and company got to enjoy an authentic Javanese meal at the home of my cousin's grandmother (his dad's mom) in Klaten.

Here is what they experienced and what I'm drooling over.


One of their cooks is hovering over a traditional Indonesian woodfire stove. My cousin describes that this vintage method brings about a smoky flavor you can't get from modern gas stoves.


My mom tries her hand at the woodfire stove.


In the pot to the left is Sambal Goreng Kracek, dried cow skin crackers cooking in a brew of thick coconut oil and chiles. Sunny and bright, we've got some tahu (tofu) simmering in a pot of turmeric sauce.


The whole spread from left to right: Clear vegetable soup in chicken broth, the Sambel Goreng Krecek, Ungkep Ayam (stewed chicken) and the tahu in tumeric sauce. You also see what looks like our favorite condiment, the Sambal Oelek.

Where is Klaten? It's a northeast district of Jogyakarata in Central Java.

Keeping Tradition

My uncle just returned from his Indonesian getaway. He stopped by bearing gifts, including this trio of traditional Indonesian snacks. In the foreground we've got rempeyek, craggy-looking chips made of flour, peanuts and dried anchovies. It's got a somewhat bitter taste that you need to develop an acquired taste for. In the back left, we've got a pile of mete, the Indonesian word for cashews...deep frying these babies in oil brings out their smokiness. Finally, there's a party of kacang goreng tepung, fried peanuts covered with a flour coating. These crunchy snacks are available widely in Indonesia, and are often served as refreshments to guests.

When You Can't Bullrace, Make Soup

Madura Island, jutting out of the northeastern coast of Java, is much lauded for its bullracing competitions, in which jockeys board a simple wooden sled and get whisked away by a pair of bulls in lighting speed. But, if like me, your backyard is not equipped to act out such a vigorous sport, then I encourage you to try an activity that's on the tamer side: making Soto Madura.

Perfect for these frosty, wintry days, Soto Madura is quite similar to its sister soup, Soto Ayam, Indonesia's spin on chicken noodle soup, if you will. In Soto Ayam, the chicken broth gets enhanced by a fragrant dose of lemongrass, ginger, garlic, turmeric and onions. Shreds of chicken and mounds of bean thread noodles (the Asian version of vermicelli) give the dish some brawn. The ingredients for Soto Madura don't differ that greatly from those of Soto Ayam. Instead of chicken though, bovine meat takes center stage.

While the recipe below was easy to brew, I should have scouted more thoroughly for a better representation of Soto Madura. In the end, I found that the recipe called for too much water as the soup seemed to lack that full-on flavor I was hoping to taste. I sprinkled the broth with more salt for extra oomph. Next time, I'll use five cups of water instead of six, so the seasonings will be distributed more accurately. Or, I'll substitute the water with beef broth for a more savory punch. I may not be an alumnae of the CIA (Culinary Institute of America....Oh that CIA, you say), but it's fun to take these culinary stabs in the dark.

Luckily, I harbored some leftover bean thread noodles in my cabinet. It may be against Soto Madura rules to use them, but I went ahead and plunked the glassy strands in the soup anyway. Some kelly green slices of scallions and a topping of fried onions contributed some brightness and crunch to the Soto Madura. I love how the turmeric gave a natural splash of yellow color to the broth. Of course, I loathe how it left behind an indelible stain on the blade of my food processor.


Soto Madura
Ingredients:

* 4 kemiri nuts
* 3 shallots, sliced
* 2 garlic cloves, sliced
* 1 tsp. salt, or to taste
* ¼ tsp. white pepper
* ¼ tsp. turmeric
* a ½-inch piece of fresh ginger, sliced
* 6 cups of water
* 1 lb. boneless beef chuck
* 2 stalks of lemongrass
* lime slices
* 2 Tbs. raw rice, soaked in ¼ cup water for 10 minutes
* 2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and sliced

Steps:
* In a food processor, chop fine the nuts, then blend them with the shallots, garlic, salt, pepper, turmeric, and ginger to form a paste.
* In a large pot, combine the paste with the water, beef, lemongrass, and 1 lime slice and bring mixture to a boil over moderate heat.
* In the food processor, blend rice mixture to coarse consistency and add this to the beef mixture. Cook the soup covered, over low heat for 1½-2 hours, or until the beef is tender. Adjust the seasoning.
* Serve the soup hot, garnished with egg and lime slices

Source:
http://www.melroseflowers.com/mkic/indo_recipes/meat/madura_island_style_soup.html

A Few Fast Facts About Madura (aside from bullracing):

• Agriculture: Tobacco farming is vital to the island's exporting economy
  
• Culture: Madura's topeng theater involves masked performances of classical stories; the loddrok theater features unmasked, informal performances of a wider range of themes
  
• Infrastructure: The Surabaya-Madura Surabaya-Madura (Suramadu) Bridge is expected to finish construction this year. Although a ferry already shuttles commuters to and from Bankalan, on the Western side of Madura, to Surabaya, Indonesia's second largest city on the northeastern side of Java, the bridge will increase interaction between the two areas.
  

Es Es, Baby

Die-hard durian (not Duran Duran) groupies will flock to the vendor in the left with salivating glee. On Dago Street in Bandung (the capital of West Java province), the dear chap sporting the Rolling Stones shirt is peddling "Es Durian," for a mere 5,000 rupiah (45 U.S. cents) per cup. This cool treat combines durian ice cream with real chunks of the durian fruit. Durian is a tropical fruit indigenous to the Southeast Asian area, infamous for two reasons: its hard, spiky exterior (therefore the fruit can double as a weapon) and its potent-smelling interior that some find intoxicating while others deem offensive. The fruit's pale-yellow flesh possesses a soft, custard-like consistency, a joy to dig out with your hands and with messy abandon. Fortunately, as you see my mom doing in the snapshot, you can enjoy the durian in a delicate and civilized manner when you eat it in the form of an icy dessert.

Sam Like it Hot

I especially like Sambal Oelek swirled in a steamy bowl of Soto Ayam (traditional chicken soup) or topped among some tempeh goreng (fried tempeh). It gives these dishes a sassy kick.

Serving as the Tobasco sauce on many Indonesian tapletops, sambal oelek is a simple, yet powerful condiment made of red chili, vinegar and salt. I recently used it as one of the ingredients for my recent cucumber salad recipe. You can purchase it ready-to-scoop from most Asian markets, with Huy Fong Foods being one of the more popular purveyors of sambal oelek (the CEO was probably voted "hottest catch" in high school). However, if you're the type to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty, grab a mortar and pestle and start crushing away some chili with fiery gusto. In fact, the word Oelek is the Dutch moniker for stone pestle.*

Here's a home-pulsed recipe I found from www.chilezone.net for folks who just want to make sambal oelek with a press of a button:

Ingredients:
* Two dozen fresh red Thai, Vietnamese or equivalent chiles
* Vinegar (or if possible, tamarind liquid)
* One Tablespoon kosher salt

Method:
* Remove stems
* Slice into quarters
* Put the chiles, seeds and all, into a blender.
* Pulse blender while adding liquid (add enough to keep everything moving)
* Blend until it forms a medium paste.
* Continue blending while adding salt.

Storage:
* Put into sterilized jars and refrigerate.

*History Lesson: Indonesia was colonized by the Dutch for about 350 years.