An unappetizing take on Betawi food

Beyond the hip joints, nouvelle franchises and chintz- curtained gourmet havens that compose my epicurean world lies the almost unmapped quarter inhabited by places such as the Cempaka Hotel. As the city officially commemorated its 470th birthday, the hotel lay like a sleeping giant along Jl. Letjen Suprapto, Cempaka Putih's main thoroughfare in Central Jakarta.

Despite its imposing structure, the hotel seemed to reject amalgamation with the rest of the world. From the concierge down to the waiters, it projected a near-uniform disregard for all manners of social conformities.

A trifle odd given that Jakarta's hotels are on a promotional race once more, dishing out perks that would make any wholesaler proud: Special weekend packages, school holiday specials and, last but not least, lavish promotions of Betawi food, Jakarta's under-appreciated native cuisine.

Queerer still, it is quite possibly the only establishment in town which offers a two-week long Betawi food festival (from June 16 through 29) -- an advantage, theoretically speaking, than the jacked-up Sunday Specials dished out by other more expensive hotels. It kind of promises the real McCoy, but does it really deliver?

Cases in point. Nobody seemed to know where the Betawi food festival was being held, or whether it was still on. Two hotel officers then directed us to the second floor, only for us to find ourselves in the middle of an Indian function. And when we finally relied on our own compass, we found a small dining section on the ground floor, wedged like an afterthought between the sleepy Harmoni coffee shop and the hotel's main veranda. That was it -- the festival.

Apparently, the hotel offers three Betawi food packages: A Rp 20,000 (US$8.17) ++ buffet lunch on that very spot, a Rp 10,000 ++ version of "high tea" at the Serambi Lounge, and a Rp 25,000 ++ buffet dinner at the Menteng Restaurant on the hotel's second floor. So, seeing that we qualified for the latter, why were we ushered to the foyer? Since no answer was offered, we could only hazard a guess that the Indian function was the culprit and the festival's buffet was shifted to the lunch venue. Full marks for common sense.

At that, expect no sumptuous vista of epicurean grandness. This was a no-nonsense, low-budget, wedding-style buffet arrangement with standard wedding reception seats and absolutely no frills or fancies. A philosophy that extended also to its food.

Bereft of a good third of its tagged meals, the meager selection looked like a dumping site of unwanted food. Working my way through the L-shaped buffet, I stared stupidly at the unattended section bearing the sign "Soto Betawi". No Soto Betawi. What was left of the appetizer was a couple of cold tahu isi (fried tofu with vegetable filling) unceremoniously piled on a plate with its cabe rawit (raw chilies) accompaniment.

As if to add to the establishment's hitherto listed petulance, whatever was on the table bore no tag. Whatever the reason, I knew it wasn't a stab at eccentricity. And though I may be but a tiny globalized dot in one giant melting pot, it doesn't mean I don't know what certain familiar food should taste like.

The main courses of nasi goreng (fried rice), gulai kambing (a particularly rich version of lamb curry), empal goreng (thin slivers of fried, sweetened beef)and ayam goreng serai (fried chicken with lemongrass) certainly left a lot to be desired. And please don't confuse this with that midnight favorite nasi uduk: The selection read more like the "what's what" in every household's list of "Indonesianized" staple food haphazardly falling under "national cuisine".

Which was where the problem lay. To find that most households' versions are better than those bearing a promotional tag was a sad irony. The nasi goreng was bland, almost tasteless; the ayam goreng serai, while tasty, was rather tough; and the empal goreng, which was not supposed to be so dry, almost resembled dendeng (dried, sweetened beef) in texture. Yet the gulai kambing stood out as an exception: Tender, savory, and surprisingly light, this Arabian-inspired fare bode well even for the most finicky of eaters.

Likewise with the sop kambing (goat meat soup). The rich consomme with the delicious broth was the only main fare that wasn't wishy-washy in its taste. And since it was the only dish the hotel management deemed worthy of heating, it was also the only item that paid respect to standard culinary practices.

The second round saw me heading for the veranda, straight to the kerak telor stall. To satisfy a lifelong curiosity, I watched how it was done: a flour-laced glutinous rice fried in a wok, followed by a liberal splashing of ebi (shavings of dried prawns) and serundeng (spiced, shredded dried coconut), followed by two eggs blended into the mixture, and garnished with fried onions. Hardly the stuff gourmet foods are made of, and needing some semblance of familiarity to even begin to appreciate it.

Directly opposite the kerak telor stall was the barbecue section, consummating Jakarta's perennial affection for charbroiled meat. Displaying a somewhat misplaced haughty secrecy when I asked what spices were used for the huge chunks of fish, lamb and chicken, the chef was deservedly reprimanded by the duty manager for failing to realize that the burners were out of gas. So much for expertise.

But the festival found its redemption in its outstanding asinan Jakarta (pickled vegetables). Long the pregnant women's object of intense cravings, the finely shredded cabbage, carrots and Chinese cabbage tasted heavenly when mixed with the delightfully piquant spicy peanut sauce.

Refreshing asinan is actually a nice way to cap off a meal, as the choice of jajanan pasar (literally translated as "snacks from the market") was both meager and mediocre. After all, it isn't as though the standard, tapioca-based sweets of kue talam and kue krucut aren't found on every other corner of Jakarta.

The final verdict? Well, at least it wasn't too costly an experience (buffet-speaking) at Rp 70,000 for two.

-- Epicurus