Sizing Up the Market

Chef Adzan Tri Budiman is up and about and headed for Beringharjo market in Yogyakarta when the rest of the city is only starting to stir.

It’s still cool outside – a brief interlude before the return of the oppressive heat of recent weeks – and lamps glimmer in the dark. The sun, like many residents, seems reticent to face up to the hoard of vendors promising items to meet the unending human quest to fill one’s stomach.

With his large frame and white chef’s uniform, Adzan presents an incongruous figure among the crowd of generally short, wiry market workers. As I watched an old woman haul a 100-kilogram sack of shallots on her back, for payment of Rp 3,000, I wondered if she also would be able to lift the hefty chef, who weighs more or less the same.

Adzan, a former chef de cuisine at Grand Hyatt Jakarta and executive chef at Hyatt Regency Yogyakarta, and business partner Gede Yudiawan opened the restaurant Sapi Bali here about three months ago.

Set amid ricefields in Sleman, it is already a favorite stop in Yogyakarta for the city’s well-heeled, including, reportedly, the sultan himself, for its spicy ribs.

In the market, the unmistakable smells of the meat and fresh vegetables laid out in the open brought back memories of my childhood, when I reluctantly tagged along with my mother for her daily shopping.

This time, my first to accompany a chef on a shopping trip, was a learning experience, such as about selecting the right type of chili. “The smaller it is, the hotter it is,” Adzan warned as he pointed to three different types of the red firebrands.

We scoured the market to pick up the bundle of spices needed for the house specialty. With them safely in our hands, we headed back to the kitchen to get cooking. Assisted by his oldest son, Adzan roughly chops the spices: garlic, shallots, ginger, turmeric, galangal, Balinese chili, nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves and kencur, the rhizome closely related to turmeric that is a mainstay of Balinese cuisine.

The spices are then put through a grinder. It takes effort, but Adzan said a bit of elbow grease is essential to get the desired taste. “We grind them four times without using a blender. It really tastes different,” he said. The ribs are boiled with the 12 types of spice for three hours, to tenderize the meat and ensure the spices are absorbed into the meat. Then they are placed on a charcoal barbecue, with the attendant fanning them until they are thoroughly cooked.

I wondered aloud why they did not use an electric fan to save energy. “Electric fans actually work to disperse the heat, but when it’s fanned by hand, the coals stay alight and it heats from below,” he said. It had been a long day, and there was that familiar growl to tell me it was time to eat. As expected, the ribs were deliciously tender, with the spiciness neutralized by cooling glasses of tamarind and turmeric juice, beras kencur and sweet tamarind.

Fully satisfied, we struggled to stay awake as a gentle breeze lulled us from the ricefields. I mused that it might be a good idea to provide a napping spot for sleepy diners to complete their experience.
+Samuel Mulia