A lesson in Balinese cooking

glutinous rice treats

I'm not a morning person but on this day I could have fooled you. We were up at 5:30 and out the door by 6 am ready for our wee-hours-of-the-morning market jaunt with Cok Sri (pronounced chawk sree), the Balinese woman who would be instructing us on her local cuisine today. Even the roosters aren't up yet!, I thought. Rubbing the sleep off our eyes, we stumbled over to the front desk where we were soon met by Cok Sri, who for some reason instantly brought to mind many a scary school teacher from my past.

She just as quickly dispelled that thought with her jolly greeting and warm smile, then we were off to the Ubud market to purchase the ingredients for our cooking class. It was quite cold and I hugged my shawl tighter around me while I looked around and noticed many other women walking in the same direction, alone or in small groups of two or three. All heading to the market too, no doubt.

I was right. I couldn't believe my eyes. The market was teeming with customers at this ungodly hour, it seemed as if the entire female population of Ubud was present and then some. There was produce everywhere. I gingerly tiptoed over and around a maze of crates and mats piled high with the radiant contrasting colors of red chilis, fiddlehead ferns, squash and shallots.

All the vendors seemed to know Cok Sri. Her keen eye (and nose!) for freshness evident as she surveyed and sniffed and then honed in for what she deemed to be perfect. After procuring the vegetables we needed, she led us down the steps to the wet market for chicken and fish. As Cok Sri and Rina discussed our protein requirements, I scanned my surroundings for photo ops. Then something caught my eye.

Over by the cookies and breads, a lady was assembling what looked like multi-colored sticky cakes on a brown sheet of paper, which she would drizzle with a brown syrup and then sprinkle with coconut. Cok Sri must have seen the drool gushing (seriously, I still hadn't had any breakfast!) down to my flip-flops because she bought one each for us to have for breakfast later.

With us tailing her, marched down an alley where she stopped for some dried shrimp paste and peanut sauce before declaring we were done. It was only when we were back on the street did I notice we were joined by a woman carrying all our purchases on a basket balanced on her head. She gave us a toothy grin as she walked past us.

We parted ways with Cok Sri at the bungalows, agreeing to meet her at her place at 9am. This gave us a little over an hour for a nice leisurely breakfast that included rice cakes I was so eager to try. I unwrapped the paper to reveal a medley of glutinous rice cakes in assorted colors, shapes and textures, lightly drizzled with palm sugar syrup and shredded coconut that was acutely reminiscent of home. Kakanins (native snacks) that came to mind were cuchinta, puto and bilo-bilo. Yum!

barefoot in her kitchen

We arrived at Cok Sri's promptly at 9 am. She lived in a very traditional Balinese family complex she shared with a slew of brothers and sisters. She called out to us from her kitchen near the rear of the complex. It was a simple galley kitchen across from another open-air kitchen area where all the ingredients were laid out. Like model pupils, Rina and I took our positions on mismatched monobloc stools, excited and ready for our private Balinese cuisine education.

The first task was to prepare the Bali sambal, a fiery condiment of shallots, garlic, chilis and dried shrimp paste (trasi). Sambals are either raw or cooked, though in these islands it is preferred raw and untamed by cooking. It is served with everything and a meal without sambal is unthinkable. Cok Sri laid a large granite mortar on the counter in which she threw all the ingredients except the shrimp paste. She proceeded to grind everything with quick masterful strokes of the wrist.

I loved how this mortar and pestle worked. The flat pestle with the slightly bent ergonomic handle made it easy to grind ingredients into a paste rather than pound it (I even bought myself one). And the large size of the shallow, almost flat mortar accomodates big quantities to be ground together. Here they prefer to massage the ingredients, coaxing the flavors out by hand rather than pulverizing it with a food processor.

Cok Sri fired up the stove and grabbed a pan from under the sink. She mashed the block of dried shrimp paste into it until the heat and her actions broke it down into a thick grey paste. Almost instantly the air was filled with a pungent fishy aroma. Into the paste went the mashed ingredients for a quick saute and gentle simmer. My goodness, the aroma! The aroma wafting from the pan was heady, provocative almost. The fumes tickled my nostrils and stirred my tummy.

Watching Cok Sri in her element was fascinating. We watched her coax the flavors from exotic spices, expertly wrap the fish in banana leaves, effortlessly negotiate the stove top that seemed to have 4 pans sizzling or steaming at once, and deftly chop ingredients with quick fluid motions. All the while she answered all my questions patiently, even spelling out some names as I took down notes, and regaled us with tales of her family without missing a beat. She had the kitchen prowess that comes only from decades of experience. She did have an assistant who helped her grate the coconut for the long beans but she did everything else herself without breaking a sweat. She was the picture of efficiency, constantly cleaning and packing away as she worked.

A little over two hours later, we were ready to chow. We helped her bring out the plates to where tables had been set for us at one of the pavilions by the courtyard. At our insistence, Cok Sri joined us for lunch and together we feasted on her masterpieces. They were truly works of a master and I felt almost compelled to give her a standing ovation by the end of the meal. Instead, I gave her a hug and thanked her for the wonderful meal and insightful glimpse into her culture.

Aside from sambal, the other dishes we learned to make were:

Ikan Pepes- Tuna wrapped in banana leaves. The chunks of tuna were coated in a paste of turmeric, galangal, shallots, garlic, lemongrass ginger and chili then wrapped in banana leaves with a daun salam (local bay leaf) leaf tucked in. (The daun salam , tree is a member of the cassia family; its leaves impart a mild spciy/woodsy flavor). The wrapped fish is then steamed then grilled on a pan.

Perkedel jagung - Indonesian corn fritters. This was hands down our favorite! They are made with shallots, nutmeg, chili and garlic and then deep fried to perfection. We were eating them hot off the fryer, and eating it like popcorn.

Ayam Goreng - Spicy fried chicken. This is her children's favorite, Cok Sri tells us, and I can understand why. The chicken is fried with garlic, chili, onions and tomatoes then glazed with kecap manis. Kecap (pronounced keh-chap; derived from the Cantonese word for sauce koe-chiap form which the word ketchup was also born) manis is sweet soy sauce infused with palm sugar which gives it it's syrupy consistency. Kecap asin on the other hand is the regular soy sauce we are familiar with.

Long beans in coconut milk - I don't know what this is called in the local dialect, but it was delicious. I've always loved local cuisine cooked with gata or coconut milk. This one was redolent with the sambal Cok Sri prepared, galangal , shallots and garlic.

Gado-gado - of course what would a Balinese or Indonesian cooking class be without this vegetable dish. Gado-gado loosely translates as "potpourri" and that it is. A potpourri of vegetables tossed with peanut sauce and topped with shrimp crackers. In it she also added pre-packed tahu (tofu) and tempeh, a staple food in these islands. Tempeh is made by fermenting half-cooked and dried soybeans with a starter yeast. It has the texture of nougat and the same nutty taste as tofu.

top row: pergedel jagung; ikan pepes; ikan pepes unwrapped
middle: veggies for the gado-gado; tahu tempeh for the gado-gado; gado-gado
bottom row: long beans with coconut milk; ayam goreng; Bali sambal

Cok Sri conducts cooking classes for small groups of 2-4. If you're staying at the Puri Saraswati and are interested in attending one of her classes, the receptionist will be happy to arrange it for you. Cost is $20 per person, inclusive of all ingredients and a sumptuous lunch which you've learned to prepare. Now that's money well spent! :)

Cok Sri Putra Nurhani
Menara Home Stay
Ubud, Bali
08-805-626-518