Stepping back in time at Art and Curio in Cikini

Stepping back in time at Art and Curio in Cikini

A hole in the wall is how one friend had rather harshly
described Art and Curio in Cikini, Central Jakarta.

By no means a winning advertisement for a restaurant. But
another companion had quickly downplayed the criticism, which
included asides about stuffiness and lack of air-conditioning, by
interjecting a qualifier that there was a tattered charm to the
antique shop-cum-eatery.

After weeks of glitzy emporiums, where style often wins over
sustenance, we felt that a simpler local diversion, if that is
the correct choice of words, would do us some good on the
culinary front.

We set off in search of the restaurant, which is located at
number 8A on Jl. Cikini IV. In the maze of winding Cikini lanes
squirreling off Cikini Raya, we got lost, finding ourselves on
the threshold of a Japanese restaurant which, with its Old World
charm, looked the part.

We kept on going, finally coming upon Art and Curio opposite
the old railroad tracks, set a little back from the road. The
restaurant is inconspicuous in its ordinariness and lack of
pretense, seemingly begging for its distinction as a well-kept
secret for Jakartans in the know.

It quickly became apparent as we entered the rather dark and
foreboding dining area that this is a place which does not invite
tepid reactions.

Simply put, you will either be bowled over by the immersion in
a decaying elegance harking back to simpler times gone by, a
little scene from Dickens if you will, or be overcome by the urge
to sweep up your Chanel handbag and totter off in the direction
of the nearest ersatz French patisserie.

This is no-frills, leisurely dining, spanning the simple
folksy decor -- hardwood chairs, white linen tablecloths,
mementos of Tempoe Doeloe hanging on the walls, a shallow fish
pond -- to the no-nonsense service style of the waiters.

The latter in itself is somewhat refreshing, after close
encounters of the impersonal kind with waitpersons whose manners
waver between cloyingly ingratiating or downright standoffish.

The menu is full of meals grandmother would have made,
especially if her name was Hendrika and she knew the value of
heaping platefuls of simple carbohydrates for keeping warm in a
chilly Dutch winter.

We are talking heavy, stodgy but make-you-feel-good food:
sandwiches, omelets, soups, European snacks, steaks, schnitzel,
and roast chicken. There were also pork dishes of chops and
sausages and sauerkraut, but the waiter said these were no longer
served.

For those in search of something on the lighter side that
won't have them dozing off within an hour, deference is provided
with salads and some fish dishes. But by the names of some of
them -- Russian egg salad, prawn Hollandaise complete -- they
still carry a caloric punch.

Our choices were fried kakap (whitefish) chips, fried shrimp,
bitterballen, the choice beef balls served with a sharp mustard,
and asparagus soup. These were big portions in themselves, and we
hunkered down to polish them off with relish.

Not surprisingly, the bitterballen were considered the
appetizer highlight although all choices were judged favorable.
The lone exception was the soup, left unfinished after the diner
said its bland taste indicated it probably came from a can.

Onto the entrees: the grand sounding roast chicken a la bonne
femme complete, wiener schnitzel and beef stroganoff complete.

First to presentation. All the meals were served on
utilitarian tin plates, with little divots allocated for the meat
and two veg. There is a rosette of mashed potatoes ("it's made
with Blue Band" one of us announced) prettily fringing the plate.

Once again, diners either love the simple touch or find it a
bit too much to stomach.

But the proof of a restaurant's worth is in the pudding. The
chicken was dressed in a medium wine, shallot and mushroom sauce.
This was not too piquant or overly sweet, and the meat was well-
cooked.

Similar praise went for the wine-based creamy sauce of the
stroganoff and its tender chunks of beef. And although the
schnitzel was not as tender, it was also viewed as a passable
choice. The diner admitted that the provision of the cooking oil
on the side, a distinctly European way of serving the meat, had
awakened long dormant memories of growing up in a family from the
old country.

The piece de resistance of the whole meal, however, had
nothing to do with the hearty grub. Instead, it occurred when the
waiter summarily tossed the leftover chicken into the pond, where
it was consumed, bones and all, by the ravenous fish. A sight to
behold, indeed, and an inarguably efficient way of disposal.

Uncouth it may have been, but it added another piece to the
jaded charm that is Art and Curio. At few places in this city,
and especially now, can three people eat as much for the
relatively cheap price of a little over Rp 95,000, which includes
assorted drinks.

And the price does not cover the added attraction of escaping
the Jakarta rat race for a couple of hours in a throwback to the
way life used to be.

-- Epicurus