Tender vittles of Natrabu's offerings

Indulgence is most appropriate to describe the staggering culinary excesses of the last few weeks. With a standard intake of nachos drowned in cheese, rib-eye steaks, burgers and other delicious but woefully unhealthy meals, it was high time for Epicurus to return to some more substantial eating.

As in not processed to an unrecognizable pulp of its former self. But it still had to be a gradual process, for Epicurus was not quite ready for a complete shock to the system. It was a case of taking one meal at a time.

With all this in mind, it seemed the right time to resume a love affair with Padang cuisine. The dishes of West Sumatra, marked by meat curries, offal and liberal usage of coconut milk, may not be kind to cholesterol levels. Yet they still straddle that murky divide between traditional fare and downright toxic.

A small concession it may have been, but it was still a nod in the direction of better eating habits. And a nostalgic choice, too. A year spent in Padang as a high school student had kindled a long-running devotion to the food. It had also instilled the ability to discern between the genuine article, which takes hours of toil to prepare, from hastily whipped up paler versions.

Padang food is everywhere in Indonesia, recognizable by the deftly balanced stack of plates beckoning enticingly from the front window. Which is, conversely, not so appealing to some of us who wring their hands at the possible growth of poisonous bacteria from sitting in that bright sun all day. These wary souls will head in the other direction rather than dally with possible gastroenteritis.

Fortunately, there are some spick-and-span eateries which are a safer bet in the cleanliness stakes. One is Natrabu, a quiet refuge from the bustle and pandemonium of Jl. Sabang in Central Jakarta, and one of the most famous.

From the first step into this restaurant, it is clear Natrabu is a level above the rest of its Padang brethren on the interior decorating and service fronts. The restaurant is decorated with the gold-trimmed textiles and the buffalo horn symbol of the Minangkabau, the people of West Sumatra. A little garish but it sets the traditional mood for the meal. Waiters, also garbed in Minang attire, usher diners to either a table or one of the booths toward the front, according to the diners' preference.

But these factors often spell tourist trap, particularly due to Natrabu's location within the tourist belt and the former practice of putting the national flag of foreign diners on the table (we didn't get the treatment on this night). We waited for the moment of truth in trying the food. And waited, and waited. This, though, was understandable as the restaurant was nearing closing time.

Finally, we got the attention of a different waiter who raced out a spiraling pyramid of different dishes. Eggs in curry sauce. Cassava leaves stewed in spices and coconut milk. Curried chicken. Dried beef with fire-engine red strips of chili. Various offal, including liver and heart.

And, of course, rendang, Padang's bona fide entry on the list of great culinary achievements. Hunks of beef stewed for hours in rich coconut milk and spices. The duration is important. It can be stewed so long that it is blackened and so tender that it falls apart on the fork. Less time and a larger amount of coconut milk will render a rich, thick sauce.

How did the food measure up? As it turns out, very well. My companion sang the praises of the delicately cooked liver, which melted in the mouth. The dried beef was chewy but not hardened to the point of presenting a danger to dental work. The cassava leaves were also well cooked and without the bitter aftertaste that often spoils this dish.

The same kudos went for the tender and spicy rendang. A small gripe, perhaps, but the addition of red beans or small new potatoes would have made a good dish even better. And it was all worth it at just Rp 16,000 for two, including tea, for a filling and tasty meal.

-- Epicurus