A feast fit for the King at Elvis Cafe

Inching through Jakarta's lunchtime snarl, Epicurus and friends spruced themselves up for their rendezvous with the King. No, not Larry, Carole or even Rodney, but the one and only Elvis.

Or rather, the theme restaurant on the ground floor of the Arthaloka building on Jl. Sudirman, Central Jakarta, devoted to the Presley phenomenon. An apt choice, as this month marks the 20th anniversary since the King toppled from his throne and came to his final resting place kissing a marbled bathroom floor at Graceland.

Elvis and food. Isn't that a tortured relationship akin to Judy G. and Jack Daniels, or Mama Cass and ham sandwiches? Now, now, curb that cynicism. If Kenny can have his chicken joint, and Naomi, Elle and Claudia deign to dish up slim pickings at their own swank eatery, why can't the favorite son of Tupelo, Mississippi?

For Elvis does, after all, hold his own peculiar place in modern food lore, a true lover of down-home Southern staples before the cuisine acquired the sheen of respectability that comes on the pages of a tony Martha Stewart cookbook. Gourmand or glutton, Elvis sure liked his grub. Lots of it.

There was at least one dyed-in-the-wool Elvis fan among us, a startling walking compendium of royal trivia. In what Elvis movie did Mary Tyler Moore play a nun living in a ghetto? Who was his leggy costar in G.I. Blues? What did he prefer to chow down on in the wee hours of the morning? (for the uninitiated, The Habit, Juliet Prowse and fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches).

We were caught up in our own game of Elvis anticipation as we neared the restaurant. Would the waiters be dressed in Vegas ruffles and flares, answer with a sheepish "yes, Ma'am" and curl their lips in the trademark smile as they jotted down our orders?

We had even more fun in guessing ahead the menu. Would it boast a King Creole Lobster Salad, Jailhouse Rock Burger, Caesar's Palace Salad, In the Ghetto Grits or Roustabout Rib-eye? Or, our favorites, a Love Me Tenderloin, Ring of Fire Onion Rings, Blue Hawaii Salad and the Colonel's Fried Chicken (as in Parker, not Saunders)? We were on an Elvis roll.

Alas, it seemed we were a little more creatively minded than the people who came up with the theme cafe.

Elvis Cafe, located at the back of the building, past Mu'amalat Bank and the elevators, is surprisingly cavernous, with an upstairs balcony section for gazing down on the evening's performing acts.

Memorabilia, primarily press clippings and photos, adorn the walls, a chronological gallery of Elvis through the ages.

A young, wholesome, unpardonably cute Elvis smiles broadly at diners. The King, sleek in black leather, gyrates provocatively before a gaggle of adoring female fans. An older Elvis, in tragic decline, bloated and glassy eyed, his white pant suit stretched dangerously at its seams.

That, and some merchandise of T-shirts, is about the sum of the Elvis influence.

The waiters, pleasant and efficient, did not don the expected togs, but that universal uniform of jeans and crewneck shirts. No soulful ballads blared out from the music system, but, incongruously, a frenetic number from those great 1980s pretenders Depeche Mode.

Except for the Priscilla fish sandwich, which at least one of us thought had to do with drag queens cavorting through the Australian outback, there was no nod to Elvis on the menu.

That included the selections. Mashed potatoes drowned in gravy, honey-dipped fried chicken and grits were nowhere to be found among the standard upscale diner fare of sandwiches, steaks, salads and Mexican.

A tad disappointed, we made our choices. "Maybe the veggies come in guitar shapes," one of us quipped. They didn't, but, fortunately, the spread would have done the King proud.

We enjoyed the Nachos Supreme, individual corn triangles laden with a mountain of beans, jalapenos, cheese and extra beef. Just as tasty were lightly crumbed onion rings served with tartar sauce.

Two of us plumped for steak selections and the other went south of the border for entrees. Steak Zingara, a U.S. sirloin in a gravy speckled with mushrooms and green peppers, was pronounced succulent and delicious. Baffled at first by the oddly named Mushroom Steak Mushroom, we discovered it was a tenderloin doused in a tangy mushroom sauce and garnished with additional breaded fried mushrooms.

The Chicken Fajitas made it a hat trick in the satisfaction department. One more corn tortilla would have been helpful, but the chicken, mushrooms and green peppers were sauteed just right.

The only dessert item we wanted to try was the Blueberry Hill Cheesecake (what's Fats Domino doing in an Elvis eatery?). Bland, too-dryly textured and lacking any distinctive flavor, the cheesecake turned out to be just passable.

Which brought us to the end of our midday tryst with a legend. Although not cheap (Rp 144,000 for three, including drinks of mineral water, coffee and coke) and disappointingly skimpy for avowed Elvis aficionados hungry for some musical blasts from the past, the food was excellent. Fit for the King himself.

-- Epicurus