A Food Lover's Bandung

My first encounter with Bandung nearly two years ago left me awestruck with the potential and range of Indonesian food that I never realized in Jakarta. The latter will always fall prey to standardized tastes, considering its more significant culinary achievements often stand and compete with fastfood chains accompanied by processes that hardly provide room for any whimsy and flair. Food is often expensive and uninviting in Jakarta that I had to rely a lot on the knowledge of locals who knew which nooks and crannies to take just to get your money’s worth in the six months I lived there. Warungs, or hawker-style street food, are just as expensive as the fastfood in a city like Manila and Bangkok, while high-end restaurants reflect the prices and decor—but not necessarily the quality—of those coming from Singapore.

Bandung’s culinary offerings provide a cheaper yet more enchanting and evocative interpretation of the food you wish you could find in Jakarta. The repertoire is extensive—whether it is Continental French or Italian cooking, or Oriental food in the mold of Japanese, Chinese, Indian and Thai cuisine, or whether its traditional renditions of indigenous Indonesian delicacies to modern and Western interpretations of local favorites—the tastes Bandung has to offer is indulgently and heartwarmingly overwhelming. I made three trips there a couple of years back, and still fondly remember the food in restaurants like Kafe Sapu Lidi at the heart of Cihampelas Street once famous for cheap knock-offs of designer jeans, Sariwangi in a hidden residential street off the main roads of the city and The Peak in Lembang District which is known for its breathtaking view of the city. I would have wanted to revisit thses places again in my attempt to journal one of my more memorable forays into food, but as my recent trip has proven with a handful of local friends I made there, Bandung’s food culture has grown immensely.

Our first stop for our first day there was lunch in Congo Café in Lembang, the perfect place to get introduced or reacquainted with the city. Like The Peak and other restaurants in Lembang, Congo Café is nested on top of a mountain peak and offers a bird’s eye view of the quaint city. The restaurant takes advantage of the mountain breeze by applying traditional Javanese architecture and design in a grand open-style high-end restaurant. High beams and ceilings, hardwood furniture, indigenous materials as well as spacious seating areas enhance the eating experience of Western, Oriental and local favorites. I got myself Bebek Crispy, deeply fried crispy duck with spicy sambal sauce, rice and sautéd vegetables. Lathered generously with black pepper, the duck’s skin was crunchy and succulent. The meat inside was marinated well with just the right amount of citrus and aromatic herbs to diminish the unpleasant taste a lot of people have against duck. I got a taste of their Hainanese Chicken Rice as well, which was nothing like the traditional sort. Instead of the lingering and refreshing taste of ginger and shallots taking fore, their version is pleasingly dominated by the smoky and woody flavor of shitake mushrooms.



We went to Sariwangi that night for dinner, quite a contrast from the upscale Congo Café. Popular to the locals in the area, Sariwangi is an old warung where one squats on either side of one of Bandung’s narrower streets: one side is just a few meters away from passing cars and motorbikes; while the other is overwhelmed by a large grill a few feet away from the dining tables. Despite the discomforting ambience, Sariwangi is always a joy to visit, which explains why it is difficult to get a table or parking in the area as many people literally wait in eagerly in the streets to eat there. The main staple is Ayam Bakar, Indonesian-style grilled chicken, mashed potatos and tempe with spicy sambal sauce and kecap manis, or sweet soy sauce. I’ve tried this a couple of times before and it’s comforting to know that food as good as this doesn’t change. The revelation for me is the sayur asem, the Indonesian version of our sinigang comprised mainly of corn, kaffir leaves, nuts, string beans, and chili. I’ve had my fair share of sayur asem in a number of Indonesian restaurants in Jakarta, and none of them tasted this good. Even more thrilling is that the entire meal for our party of eight—with multiple servings of rice, chicken, tempe and potatos—cost only a little over one hundred thousand Indonesian rupiahs, roughly six hundred pesos!



The next day we had brunch at the in-house restaurant in Rumah Mode, one of Bandung’s more popular factory outlets where people get to shop for export overruns of branded Western clothes at cheap prices. This is the story of Bandung, an economy revitalized by Western rejects as factory outlets have attracted a swarm of local and foreign tourists. Having suffered a hangover from Sariwangi’s ayam bakar the night before, I ordered more ayam bakar in Rumah Mode. It definitely wasn’t comparable to Sariwangi’s but it was hearty and tasteful just the same. After hours of shopping, we had late lunch on the veranda of the Cascade Factory Outlet which housed Dego Ramen. I had Chicken Katsudon Noodle. It tasted strange at first as the broth of the soup was altered by the addition of a kind of mushroom I have not seen before. But after a little getting used to, the soup did leave a pleasantly light aftertaste. I spent the rest of the afternoon in Embargo Coffee House on the lobby of our hotel with Ferdi and Bly. We shared cheesecake and I got myself a nice cup of amaretto coffee, only instead of the usual espresso that goes with the coffee, they used the more traditional Toraja coffee.



Dinner that night was spent at The Cellar, a restaurant with a really schizophrenic atmosphere. It was a high-end restaurant struggling to find its niche and market. The ground floor was well-stocked with wine, and the upper floor is a spacious collection of seating areas lined with sofas and coffee tables perfect for drinking and sharing conversation with friends. However, the joint clearly wasn’t making enough money just selling wine, so they served food as well only it was difficult to eat in those low sofas and tables. The food was just ok. I ordered some salad and their Black Pepper Snapper, and didn’t really get much out of it except for a safe rendition of fish. Even more bothersome was the fact that the place does not have a wine list, there was loud live music in the middle of the restaurant, and the seating arrangements did not exactly make it easy to watch the show downstairs. The lay-out was meant for intimate conversations over wine and soft music, however it was difficult to talk as the fiasco on stage proved too obtrusive for any conversation to take place.



My last day in Bandung was too frentic for any decent meal as we picked up a lot of packed food to go. First was the Risol or risoles from De’Risol, a small croquette-like pastry rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried. It is filled with sweet or savoury ingredients, mine was vegan and two servings of it proved to be quite filling. One bite and I was an instant fan convert to the church of risoles. It was creamy inside, and all that fat was just sinfully heavenly. Another indulgence was Lily’s Patisserie, which according to local friend Bal, served the best tiramisu in Indonesia. It’s a quaint and homey cakeshop nestled in a residential area in Bandung that served both western and local desserts. I didn’t need any convincing. I grabbed a blueberry cheesecake and was extremely satisfied. We were stuffed by the time we had lunch at Ngopi Doeloe. I only ordered a salad in anticipation of the one singular meal I so looked forward to for this trip but I did have a taste of Ferdi’s tempe bakar which had the best contrast in terms of texture. It’s crunchy in the outside and has a soft and tender soybean paste inside.



My last meal for this trip to Bandung is in Batagor Riri. Batagor is a contraction of bakso tahu goreng, fried meatballs and tofu, only the meatballs are made of fish and both are dipped in batter before fried. No trip to Bandung is complete without a taste of the famous Batagor, and the ones at Riri’s is thought to be one of if not the best. The secret of Riri’s Batagor is its spicy peanut sauce, it’s very pungent and serves as an excellent base for sate dishes. Add a few ounces of lime juice, and kecap manis to your liking, slice your Batagor, slather it with sauce and you’re all set. People seem to eat more sauce than they do the Batagor itself. One version of the Batagor I remember eating fondly a couple of years ago was with potatos.



It’s nice to end a Bandung trip with Batagor. The flavors of the Batagor pretty much sums up what Indonesian food is all about: very textured, pungent and fiery. You can dip pretty much anything into it—whether its potatos or pasta—and you’re sure to come up with a marvelous interpretation of food. As a child I was taught not to play with food, and for the grown-ups who policed my eating habits playing with food meant impeding on the sacred delicateness of flavor. Considering I can’t put catsup on anything not fried, I always felt that the experience of eating was pretty much stuck up. With Indonesian food, everything taboo with the culture I was accustomed to became the norm: a shitake-based hainanese chicken rice, a wine cellar whose centerpiece is music fit for hard drinks, a sweet soy sauce that allows you to alter the flavors of everything you eat. Even if you play with taste, you learn that balance between flavors doesn’t have to be contrived. As with all things weighed down by gravity, they will all fall into place eventually.