Food, glorious food

There is some good food to be had here in Indonesia, and I'm sure we've only skimmed the surface. Indonesian food can be quite spicy, so I have to be a little careful since I'm such a wimp when it comes to spicy food. C on the other hand seems to have inherited J's tolerance for spicy food, and it is amazing to me what this 2 year old can eat.

The latest taste bud delight was a meal with rice, crunchy tempeh (made from soybean) and prawn crackers. The rice was Nasi Kuning (yellow rice), which is made with coconut milk and turmeric. It is often prepared for special occasions, like anniversaries and birthdays. It is nothing special, but a nice vehicle for the Kering Tempeh (I think that's the name...)! Kering tempeh is a burst of flavor, mixing sweet, salty and spicy into this delicious medley of crunchy little bits of tempeh that you can eat alone or mix into the nasi kuning. C LOVED it, and we had to use it as a bribe for him to eat the rest of his dinner. J and I also loved it, and it is one of the best things we've eaten here yet. Kering tempeh is tempeh fried with chili, garlic, and brown sugar. If you ever have the opportunity, I highly recommend you try it.

Another meal J and I really like is Beef Rendang, which is also an Indonesian dish although it's also common in Malaysia and Singapore. Beef is slowly cooked in coconut milk, soy sauce, turmeric, chilies, galangal (blue ginger), lemon grass and probably some other spices. It is also usually served with rice, although we've had it before as a "burger" which was also quite divine.

When we first arrived in Indo. I realized it was a good thing I wasn't here during the whole of my first trimester. For whatever reason the smell and sight of Asian food totally disagreed with me, and the breakfast buffet at the hotel was an exercise in avoidance, holding my breath, and calming a queasy stomach. Indonesians eat the same thing for breakfast as they do for lunch and dinner, so the breakfast buffet was piled high with rice and noodles, fish, stews, etc. It didn't help that J had no problem getting right into this cultural oddity (ok, it really isn't that odd at all as I believe people in many parts of the world eat the same things all day, but my stomach just can't handle anything out of the ordinary first thing in the morning) and would enjoy filling his plate with all these things I found revolting. Fortunately the queasy stomach didn't last too much longer and I stopped gagging at the site of this food.

Fried rice (nasi goreng) is, surprise surprise, very common here, as are some basic noodle dishes. The nasi goreng I've had is good, and far better than fried rice you get from a Chinese restaurant. The spices are different, although I'm not sure in what way. What I love are the carts that people push around to sell the nasi goreng, mie goreng, etc. You can hear them coming, because they hit this cow bell on the side of the cart to announce there is RICE! NOODLES! passing by. We have one rice vendor who permanently stations himself outside of our gate every night. We have yet to try his food, but we will soon. We haven't really talked to him yet either - I'm not sure he speaks English and our Indonesian is still pitiful (although I wowed my mom on the phone the other night with the phrase: my mom wants to come to Indonesia. Not bad for 3 lessons). I think the reason I'm going on just a little too long about this guy is because he's exceptionally cute, in a very cute, cute way, with a cute smile and everything (shsh, don't tell J I have a crush on the nasi goreng guy). :)

Something I love about developing countries (and many parts of Europe) is that there is a little shop on every street corner selling food staples. The "corner market" if you will, which have for the most part long disappeared from America due to urban sprawl and mega grocery stores. I know you can still find them in large cities, but even there I think they are disappearing. It is a shame, because they are so convenient and such a community draw. Anyway, in Mali we called these little shops "butiki" and here they call them "worang". There are probably like 5 within a one block radius of our house, and we live in a very residential neighborhood. I like that. I like being able to walk to the end of the block and get a bag of pasta, of course. But what I really like is walking past and seeing the same friendly faces, knowing that they recognize me, knowing that they know my son's name. It is a comfort, from my Mali days I suppose, a comfort in a strange place.