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CHAPTER TWO

The Balinese Kitchen: Hearth and Home

Traditional Balinese cuisine is home-based village cooking in contrast to its ceremonial culinary splendor. There is no written history of Balinese food. None of the complex ancient recipes for daily food or for extraordinary festival cuisine are copied down or recorded in cookbooks, nor are they mentioned in the sacred lontar inscriptions (old manuscripts originally written on lontar leaves from the Borassus, the Asian Palmyra palm). Collecting consistent, reproducible recipes from the Balinese is difficult. Like so many other traditions in Bali, cooking techniques and eating habits are passed down verbally by elders to their children and grandchildren who help in the kitchen. However, Indonesia has an old orally transmitted food culture because the pleasure of storytelling is entwined with the pleasure and effort of cooking and eating. Indonesians generally, including the Balinese, weave food tales into culinary myths and legends as they pass on the communal food ways of the group or village. Nourishment is a family secret and everything is learned from the old folks in the compound, including relatives and neighbors. Before the modern food era, people relied for guidance about what to eat on their national or ethnic or regional cultures. Balinese food culture, and the Balinese food environment, still has a great deal to say about what, how, why, when and how much the people of Bali should cook and eat.

Balinese cooking is labor-intensive. Spice pastes are blended in a stone mortar and pestle, meats are very finely minced, vegetables are cut up and progressively reduced to microscopic bits and fibers. The numerous ingredients are invariably mixed by hand, and most foods are double or even multiprocessed, sequentially boiled or steamed and then fried. Preparing Balinese food is a slow, passionate labor of love. From childhood, Balinese know how to slice, chop, mix and grind out recipes with great skill. They observe, learn and master the fine collaborative art of creating monumental spice pastes and sambal sauces, the twin culinary symbols of traditional Balinese cuisine. The Balinese do not follow set recipes or weigh, measure and gauge level teaspoons of ingredients. The hand is the standard measurement device in the Balinese kitchen. Wizened old grannies and calm, resolute fathers rule the Balinese kitchen, cooking by taste, hereditary custom, instinct and past experience. With accumulated years of culinary, religious and cultural wisdom, they are great everyday cooks. The pungent food is brought to life with gusto, enjoyment, community bonding and reverence for the task at hand.

Women cook the simple, routine daily meals in Bali, making full use of the array of spices, fruits, grains, fish and vegetables that nature has given them to work with. When humans eat, they use all of their senses (sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste) to judge how delicious a food is. The Balinese exalt and tease and celebrate every last one of their God-given senses while selecting and cooking their nourishment. Bali’s early morning markets are the dynamic focal point of local community life and the source of food in every Balinese village. The typical ibu (mother) leaves the house at 5 a.m. each morning, just after dawn to go to the market or to a more expensive, more convenient neighborhood warung, to buy fresh provisions for the day’s meals, offerings and ceremonies. The traditional village market, better known as the pasar tenten (tenten means wake up), remains a strong institution even in the midst of ever-encroaching modern supermarkets. The price of articles at village or traditional markets is much cheaper than at supermarkets, contingent, of course, on the good bargaining and social skills of the shopper. Although their stock is less complete, village markets can provide daily consumer goods. The Balinese also rely on local markets for necessities for rituals (selected chickens of a particular color, ducks and piglets) not found at modern markets. Another advantage of the daily village market is that it opens very early in the morning (3–5 a.m.). Its goods, still relatively fresh at 10 a.m., are often repurchased mid-morning by brokers to be sold at larger markets. Typical markets are often situated at the T-road junction of the local village. Buyers and sellers, mostly from local hamlets, congregate in a jumble of kiosks and sheds in a compact area. Most of the goods on sale consist of farming and garden commodities produced by the local community. In the front and middle areas, traders array themselves in a row to offer their wares, while in the rear spaces are reserved for the vendors of ducks, chickens and piglets.

Eager to finish shopping before 7 a.m., Balinese women go early when trading is most brisk (the markets sell out of goods and die down by 10 a.m.) to interact with friends, neighbors and regular sellers as they bargain for the day’s household necessities. A woman’s family will wake up to the comforting, familiar kitchen smells of rice steaming in the dangdang pot, smoke from the wood stove fire and chilies frying in oil. Aromatic fresh spices, roasted first in some village households, must also be ground every morning in a mortar and pestle to make a fresh spice paste. The traditional skill and knowledge of how to wield the batu base (cobek) is carefully passed down from mother to daughter. Indeed, in the past a prospective daughter-in-law’s worth was based on her ability to use the mortar and pestle. The wife cooks and completes the entire day’s food supply of rice and other dishes and leaves them on a table or inside a cupboard, covered with banana leaf squares, for family members to eat cold whenever they get hungry. There are no set meal times.

Banana leaf squares and wrappers are a necessary part of Balinese kitchen equipment. Like all Southeast Asians, the Balinese have developed sophisticated techniques of utilizing leaves to wrap a host of traditional dishes. Different leaves impart different flavors and aromas to food, and specific leaves are specially pre-prepared before they are used. There are many classic techniques of wrapping food with leaves to produce delicious and artistic edible treasures. The daily food may also be placed in a special basket called a kerenjang gantung, which is suspended from the ceiling of the kitchen. A kereneng is a bag or pouch made of pandanus leaves or a charcoal basket made of bamboo wicker-work, and a keranjang is a rough basket. Gantung means to hang or suspend, and antung-antung is a hanging suspended holder for a kris or for kitchen utensils. In modern Denpasar kitchens, food is placed on the kitchen table covered by a pretty pink or red plastic net basket called a tutup makan (food cover).

Young bamboo nodes and tubes as well as empty coconut shells are also used as food molds, storage vessels and food packaging. They also serve as containers for cooking food over fires and grills. The bungbung is a cylindrical tube made from cut bamboo, and is used to cook fish, chicken or pork, in fact any meat-based dish. Only young bamboo is used as old bamboo is too dry and can catch fire. Meat cooked in a bungbung has a unique taste and smell as it absorbs the scent of the bamboo. A complement of spices is added to the meat, put in one end of the tube with a little water so it will boil and the bungbung is closed with a leaf to keep the water inside. The size of the bamboo tube depends on the amount of meat being cooked. Usually, one segment of bamboo, 30 to 45 cm in length, is used. If there is a lot of meat, two segments may be used. A small fire is built and the bamboo tube placed on the ground, leaf-covered end upward, leaning on a slant against the wooden frame placed above the fire. The bungbung cannot be put directly in the fire because it will burn. As the meat cooks, it becomes “melting soft” because the water inside cannot escape. This is ancient pressure-cooking, Balinese village style! The cooking time depends on the fire. If the fire is good, one hour is enough, though typical cooking time using a bungbung is one to two hours. The Balinese will only do this for special occasions like Galungan or Kuningan when they have a lot of meat. The bungbung is not used for daily cooking as people are too busy and the method is complicated.

Nasi (steamed rice) campur (mixture) is the basic thrice daily meal on Bali. The Balinese eat the same food for each meal as the wife only cooks once a day. Food also varies very little from one day to the next. Bali’s ubiquitous plate of steamed white rice is inseparable from its cuisine. Bali’s rice-based culinary culture requires that fresh rice be cooked every single morning. Rice left overnight is deemed to be fit only as animal food. The women cook both ceremonial and ordinary household food with great care, at a low cooking heat, with attention to detail and inner joy. This reflects their essentially reverential culture: they always cook everything as if they are making offerings for the temple and for the gods. Cooking and culture are inseparably bound together on Bali; food preparation is intricately tied to Balinese religious beliefs and traditional village life. Cockfighting, marriage rituals, creation ceremonies and tooth filings are never far from the chef ’s mind in the Balinese kitchen. The spectacular pageantry of edible temple offerings takes birth in even the simplest of rural Balinese kitchens.

The Balinese show their respect and gratitude for this god-given abundance by sharing their food with and honoring the household spirits. After the morning pot of rice is cooked, symbolic portions of the newly prepared food are first presented to the pantheon of gods, the deified ancestors, and both the good and evil spirits before being consumed by the family. A few grains of rice and salt and tiny pieces of food are placed on a small banana leaf square called a joten or saiban, and are offered daily to the invisible forces of the cosmos before people are allowed to eat. The saiban are put at the portal entry in front.

My great friend in Bali, Kasena, told me that “joten (Balinese) is an offering made to the ancestors’ spirits. After you cook the day’s food, you then offer what you cook—you share to the ancestors before you eat it. Joten (a banten, or gift to the gods) are put in many places, like the water jar. After you make these offerings, only then you can eat what you cook.” Called nitya (daily) yajna (holy sacrifice), this personal path of worship is always carried out at home. The preparation of saiban offerings and regular worship keep the Balinese god-conscious and their home holy. Saiban, or naivaidya, is performed every day without exception after cooking in the morning. It represents the daily gratitude of the Balinese for the given endowment, and is presented to the Creator before any food is consumed.

Depending on the size of the household, Balinese women prepare a tray full of 30–70 modest daily offerings called banten (or yadnya) saiban, banten nasi or banten sesajen. Two basic types of folded banten banana leaf offering baskets are used in this god-fearing, god-pleasing interval between cooking the food and eating it. Tangkih is a one-inch-wide, two-inch-long strip of banana leaf (daun pisang) folded over in the center to resemble a bow or a military medal, held together with a semat, a tiny, sharp, bamboo stick toothpick. The other similarly sized banana leaf model, celemik, appears as a round, three-sided, triangular mini-basket. There are also tiny, flat, one-inch-square banana leaf pieces containing a few freshly steamed grains of rice alone, or rice partnered with flowers, a tiny amount of the recently cooked food, and perhaps coffee. The Balinese also weave small, square, green coconut or banana leaf offering trays (ngedjot) holding a few grains of rice, a flower, salt and chili pepper, which they set on the ground to placate the evil spirits and negative forces that live there and haunt the house. If the Balinese drink tea, coffee or rice wine, they will also spill a little on the ground as an offering. These offerings (called sajeng or sajen) are set out to appease the bad spirits (sajeng comes from the word ajengan, which means food or rice). Sajeng offerings are prepared and arak or brem is also spilled on the ground.

The Balinese distribute these diverse, duality-driven domestic offerings to various supernaturally charged household shrines along with a prayer directed heavenwards. They place the offerings at particular locations determined by the priest: on the ground by the entrance gate, in the altar in the middle of the courtyard, in front of all the buildings in the compound, at the family temple, on the family shrines, in the backyard garden, in the sleeping quarters, at the source of water, and in the kitchen on both cooking ranges, the firewood rack, the mortar and pestle, the pan or bowl where the rice is kept (dedicated to the rice goddess Dewi Sri, who has blessed the food with prosperity), the pump, the well, the cover of the water jar, the cleaning broom, and in the special devotional kitchen areas.

The kitchen always has two small shrines or alters called sanggah. The one hanging on the wall is called a sanggah paon (kitchen) for Lord Brahma, the god of creation and the fire used to cook the rice, represented in the fireplace and oven. The shrine by the well is called a sang-gah sukan (holy water or spring water) for Lord Wisnu, the god of preservation and the water resident in a large water jar placed beside the oven. Food and rice are transformed into edible forms by fire and water (the five basic elements are air, fire, water, earth and ether) through the cooking process. The gods must be thanked. Only after this daily round of religious activities ends is the family allowed to savor breakfast and rejoice in the gift of food.

In the 1930s, Miguel Covarrubias described the traditional Balinese kitchen as “a simple roof of coarse thatch supported by four posts, with a bamboo platform at one end—the kitchen table—and a primitive mud-clay stove at the other.” The kitchen or paon (meaning “ashes”) is still a small, spare, utilitarian room with not much more than the basic wood-fired stove and a chopping bench. Most village kitchens continue to be built outdoors as a freestanding compound building out of traditional mud and red brick with a basic tiled or grass roof. They are also usually dark, blackened and dirty: the ceilings are covered with soot from years of burning traditional cooking fuels such as local wood, bamboo, kerosene and smoky coconut oil. Ritually considered to be one of the least pure areas of the family compound, the kitchen, along with the bathroom, pigsty, compost heap and rubbish dump, is always constructed in the least auspicious, southwest, kelod -facing corner of the property closest to the sea. Direction in Bali is reckoned on a kaja–kelod axis: kaja is mountainward and upward, in the direction of the magic mountain, Gunung Agung, and the gods, while kelod is downward and seaward, in the direction of the negative spirits and forces. The rustic Balinese kitchen is not a place in which to relax, entertain, socialize or feed guests. It is a functional production site to cook and prepare food offerings. More modern indoor kitchens within the dwelling or in a room or building within the compound are always characterized by plain, institutional-looking gray concrete walls and angular tiled counters and workspaces.

Basic cooking equipment and installations include a simple open wood-fired, mud-brick stove, and perhaps, in more modern homes, a second two-burner stove called a kompor, or a gas cooker to boil water and fry. The kompor (Dutch for stove) is powered by minyak tanah (motorbike oil), kerosene or petroleum. The kompor is also known as a kompor panci after the Dutch panci, an ordinary metal cooking pot with two handles which sits atop the kompor. The panci is used to steam rice or make soup. There will also be a large clay container or water basin for water (gebah), and a long, low, rectangular tiled chopping bench against the back wall. Over 90 percent of people living in the villages still have antiquated wood-fired stoves, evidenced in the piles of wooden logs in local kitchens. This traditional Balinese oven (tempat memasak) has three holes in the top—the Balinese believe that evil fortune will befall anyone who builds a stove with only two holes—and an opening underneath to burn the firewood. Rice is always cooked over the most powerful middle hole, with other dishes cooked on the side.

Producing steamed white rice (nasi kukus) is a laborious multi-step process in Bali where rice perfection is de rigueur. It employs an ingenious three-tiered rice steamer known as a dangdang, kukusan or kekeban. This is an hourglass-shaped gray sheet iron or aluminum pot designed by the Balinese to reflect the symbolic shape of the beloved rice goddess, Dewi Sri. The dangdang is filled up to the waist with water and placed on top of an iron brazier (kran). A large, loosely plaited, cone-shaped bamboo steamer called a kukusan or pengukusan fits like a funnel down into the mouth of the dangdang. To make steamed rice, fresh drinking water, which, as recently as the 1990s had to be carried home daily in an earthenware pot, bucket or empty plastic jug from a nearby spring, is brought to the boil in the dangdang. Thoroughly washed rice grains (beras) are then placed in the naturally vented cone-shaped bamboo kukusan. A special heavy clay bowl with a handle (kekeban or kekeb) is placed on top of the inverted “Southeast Asian rice farmer coolie hat” to cap the rising heat and steam. The rice is steamed for thirty minutes, transferred into a clay container to soak up a little hot water for twenty minutes, and then returned to the steamer for another thirty minutes. The traditional woven bamboo steaming basket adds a distinctive flavor and aroma to the finished rice. More modern households now use huge blackened pots or have substituted an electric rice cooker. The dangdang and kukusan, along with various large pots are frequently hung outside on a compound wall or from tree branches in the garden area above the family’s assorted collection of battered and burnt thin aluminium pots and pans. There will also be an inevitable plastic rack of brightly colored plastic tubs and mismatched plastic, woven bamboo and metal baskets, bowls and crockery.

Every traditional Balinese cook brandishes large, weighty, hand-crafted axe-like Balinese cleavers (belaka) for chopping and special knives for ceremonial food preparation. Used solely to process ritual ingredients, these have carved handles with powerful Hindu symbols etched on the blades. A thick round tree trunk cutting board (talenan), a bamboo rice basket (sok asi) used to store fresh steamed rice, a clay pot to steam small banana leaf-wrapped bundles of food and perhaps a coffee roasting pan are other essential Balinese utensils. Banana leaf squares or rectangles used for enclosing, rolling and folding food parcels and offerings to be steamed or grilled, are also a part of the kitchen, as are their substitutes, corn husks and vine leaves. There will also be traditional stamping utensils—the lu and lesung —used for hand pounding and grinding foodstuffs. The lu is a long hand-held wooden pole used to physically grind rice, spices, meat (daging or flesh) and traditional Balinese village coffee. The lesung is a large mortar or bowl made from a hard material, generally stone, with a round hole in its center corresponding to the circumference and size of the lu. Recreating ancient agricultural sounds and rhythms, the Balinese put the unprocessed material in the lesung, which is placed solidly on the ground, and stand above it with the pole, crushing or pounding the coffee beans or rice into the desired particles or consistency.

Most important of all is the mortar and pestle, an important kitchen tool of varying size and shape common to all Southeast Asian countries. The shallow round stone mortar (batu base), wrought from rustic black volcanic rock, and its corresponding pestle are used to crush, combine, bruise and grind dry spices and aromatic seasonings. It is with these implements that exotic spice island treasures are transformed into the fragrant spice and herb pastes so essential for Balinese cooking. To prepare the ground spices, the freshly cut up or whole spices and roots must first be crushed into a coarse paste. Using a mortar to process the spice paste affects the flavor of the dish, as does the physical effort expended while pounding the spices. Patient, powerful, slow movements give the best flavor and texture for the dish. Modern appliances cannot replicate the culinary results and tastes achieved with the traditional mortar and pestle. The Balinese cook also owns a rudimentary wooden, hand-held paddle bristling with rows of small, sharp iron nails called a parutan sayur for fine-grating vegetables or a parutan kelapa for scraping coconuts to make desserts or for obtaining coconut milk. (Its traditional bamboo predecessor boasted spiky rattan points held together and trimmed with bamboo.) A different type of coconut grater made out of tin with elongated holes framed in wood is used for shredding coconut to the texture required for ceremonial food. A kukur (parut) is a grater or rasp for grating coconuts (mengukur means to grate or rasp the flesh of the coconut using a parut).

The Balinese invariably use fresh locally available cooking ingredients and foodstuffs, along with live animals. Food is picked, caught, bought and consumed directly off the vine, tree, hoof, fin and wing. The Balinese have always preferred fresh natural flavors. For this reason, ingredients are bought in small quantities to obtain maximum flavor, spices are bought throughout the week, and seasonal market produce is carried home daily. The Balinese have great respect for the food ingredients that they select and use to complement the inordinate amount of care and attention that goes into producing each dish. Spices are freshly ground and fried, coconut is roasted and grated, vegetables are prepared and cooked separately, and then all are combined and mixed thoroughly with the bare hands. The final cooking method—grilling, smoking or simmering—marries the diverse flavors and aromas into a distinctive, delicious whole. Traditionally, none of the resulting dishes was designed to last long because there was no refrigeration. Leftovers were always fed to the compound dogs and livestock. Because refrigeration is still a recent innovation, there is no custom of saving religious feast foods for the next day. Instead, all leftovers are wrapped in banana leaves and distributed to the neighbors. The Balinese live one day at a time—on every single level.

Refrigeration is slightly more common today but it is still far from universal. The Balinese do not know its function and do not see or understand a need for it. According to long-time custom, most local people still shop at the traditional market every single morning and cook fresh foods and produce from scratch every day, so they do not need a refrigerator to preserve their food and meat. Some more modern Balinese do own refrigerators but they just use them to house offerings and offering components, such as fruits, vegetables, eggs, tofu, tempe and flowers. The cooked daily food is still left out unrefrigerated on the kitchen table all day long, and the remains will not be saved and stored overnight in the refrigerator. This is not a leisurely, leftover food culture of recreational eating and extended cold storage. The Balinese do not order takeout food or bring “doggie bag” portions home from restaurants. It goes against the very grain of Balinese food philosophy and practice to cook large meals in large quantities to last for several days of meals and snacks. The Balinese are horrified when you insist that food can be kept until the next day. Nothing is stored or saved or planned as food for tomorrow. No cold New York pizza slice for breakfast, no frozen or reheated food, and no cold chicken are treasured on Bali. Simple food, often in scanty amounts, is cooked fresh every single day, and is always consumed in its entirety on that same day. In the villages, the wondrous, redundant, “curiosity” refrigerator often takes lonely pride of place in the living room because the venerable, small, “traditional Balinese kitchen” is still full of soot, smoke and ash!

Tumis Pakis

(STIR-FRIED FERN TIPS WITH GARLIC, CHILI AND SHRIMP PASTE)

Komang Winaya, head chef at the Puri Lumbung Cottages in Munduk, comments that “It’s really different the cooking cultures between Balinese and Westerner. The Balinese cooking culture is on cooking preparation, then they eat all (the dishes) at the same time, while the Western culture is the enjoying the result of cooking: mix with wine, or which dishes come first to suit with certain drinks. We do hope our small hotel can give contribution for food lovers all around the world!” His favorite local creation, “tumis (to stir fry) pakis (fern tips), is just everyday Balinese food dish that can come to each house in Bali.”

Recipe courtesy of the beautiful Puri Lumbung Cottages (guests sleep in luxurious renovated Balinese-style two-story rice barns!) in Munduk, in northern Bali, 2011. Special thanks to the extraordinary Balinese chef at the Puri Lumbung (Komang Winaya) and the very helpful, always courteous Yudhi Ishwari. The Balinese cuisine served at the Puri Lumbung’s relaxed mountain restaurant in Munduk (with nearby, panoramic views all the way across the sea to East Java!) is authentic Balinese village food. Puri Lumbung Cottages (A Unique and Authentic Hotel), Munduk Village 81152, North Bali—Indonesia. Phone : +62 362 7012887. www.purilumbung.com.

6 bunches fern tips (1.5 kg)

24 shallots, thinly sliced

12 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

6 big seedless red chilies cut in ¼ in (6 mm) widths

6 small red chilies cut into small pieces

¾ cup coconut oil to stir fry

1 cup liquid chicken stock (or made with Masoko powder in 3 tbs water)

1 tsp salt and pepper

1 tsp shrimp paste

6 tomatoes

Cut the fiddlehead fern tips into 2½ inch (6 cm) lengths and wash.

Heat the pan and pour in the oil.

When the oil is hot, fry the sliced garlic, then the sliced shallots, then add the chili and shrimp paste and stir fry for about 2 minutes.

Add the fern tips and pour in the chicken stock. Simmer until soft.

Add salt and pepper to taste.

Tomatoes cut into wedges can be added when the fern tips are nearly cooked. More tomato can be cut into wedges and use as a plate garnish or decoration.

Serves 4–6.

For a vegetarian version, delete the shrimp paste and substitute water for the chicken stock.

Jukut Kacang Panjang Goreng

(STIR-FRIED LONG GREEN BEANS)

Kacang is a generic name for many sorts of pulses, peas and beans. There are many types of kacang (beans) in Bali. Panjang means long (of distance, time or length) and goreng is fried. Kacang panjang itself is a cowpea or long bean (Vigna unguiculata/sinensis/sesquipedalis). Kacang panjang are long green beans on the outside, but when you dry them in the sun, the beans inside turn red. You can fry the kacang beans and eat them as a snack or garnish.

Murni’s Warung is ideally located by the old Dutch suspension bridge in Campuan-Ubud, an easy ten-minute stroll from the cultural heart of Ubud. This gorgeous four-level restaurant is beautifully decorated with Murni’s exquisite Ganesha statuary, rare stone Buddha antiques and local Balinese artworks, and overlooks an enchanting natural river gorge. Murni’s Warung offers a tropical blend of legendary Balinese specialties, outstanding Indonesian classics and superb Western comfort food (and desserts) to thousands of visitors to Bali each year. Here, master restaurateur Murni recreates one of Bali’s most popular village compound vegetable dishes.

Recipe Courtesy of Ni Wayan Murni, Murni’s Warung, Campuhan-Ubud, April 18, 2011.

2²/₃ lb (1.2 kg) long green beans cut into 1¼ in (3 cm) lengths

30 shallots, finely chopped

18 garlic cloves, finely chopped

18 hot chilies, sliced (use more or less chilies according to taste)

2 tbs shrimp paste

2 tbs Masoko chicken powder (or 1 chicken stock cube, crumbled)

small amount of chicken stock to moisten

2 tbs coconut oil

salt and pepper to taste

3 onions, sliced

Heat the oil in a pan and fry all the above ingredients except the green beans, onions and chicken stock until cooked. Use a high heat for 2–3 minutes.

Add the beans and continue to cook until done. Add a little stock if the mixture is too dry.

Fry the onions until crisp and use as a garnish.

Serves 4–6.

Leped Lindung

(PEPES BELUT, EEL ROLLED IN BANANA LEAF)

Leped (Balinese) and Pepes (Bahasa Indonesia) both mean “roll.” Lindung is Balinese for “eel” (kopat is Balinese for sea eel), and belut means eel in Bahasa Indonesia.

Eel is a cheap food in Bali and can be procured all year round. Eels are also plentiful and easy to catch in Nusa Lembongan. Fishermen bring them in every day by boat from the sea (lindung refers to swamp eels). In Bali, eels are sourced and caught in the sawah (rice fields). Belut refers to rice field eels or Asian swamp eels. The essential local cooking process is summed up in three easy, magical words: “Grill, steam and roll!” Either a man or a woman can cook this dish for their family. Sea eels are used for this recipe in Nusa Lembongan.

Recipe courtesy of handsome, smiling, I Wayan Sudirna, the very knowledgeable local Balinese chef at the beautifully designed Tanis Villas resort on stunning Mushroom Bay in Nusa Lembongan. The Tanis Villas boasts exquisite tasting jukung-fresh snapper, tuna and squid. The overnight fishing boats arrive on the beach right outside the Tanis between 7 and 8 a.m. every morning, loaded with a catch of wriggling fresh local tuna. The Tanis Villas is the ideal access point for world-class snorkeling expeditions, mangrove forest adventure tours and journeys to unspoiled sister islands Nusa Ceningan and Nusa Penida. It also has close truck or motorbike proximity to idyllic Dream Beach, picturesque seaweed farms and Lembongan village. www.tanisvillas.com, December 2011.

2²/₃ lb (1.2 kg) sea eels (10–11 inches/25–28 cm in length)

1 whole young coconut

6 banana leaves for the rolling

1½ oz (40 g) ginger

1 tsp lesser galangal

1½ oz (40 g) turmeric

50 g shallot

40 g garlic

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

½ lb (250 g) small, hot red chilies

kaffir lime leaves

Chop all the Balinese spices until very small and grate the coconut.

Wash the eel, cut off the head and chop into very small, smooth pieces.

Put the eel in a bowl and season with the Balinese spices. Add the grated coconut and mix well.

Roll the mixture in a banana leaf, adding one kaffir lime leaf to each roll. Then, either steam or grill the roll.

If steaming, wrap the eel mixture in only one banana leaf wrapper and place in a traditional Balinese rice steamer (kukusan). Steam for 20 minutes. If grilling, wrap the mixture in 2–3 banana leaves for protection and to retain moisture. Place the roll directly on the flames over an active fire, not a grill, built over a traditional sandpit. A stick on which to string the eel is suspended above the fire, balanced on two large side stones. Grill for 25–30 minutes.

Serves 4–6.