The Street Food Chef - Denpasar, Bali

 

 chef Will Meyrick shows you a different side of Bali’s capital, Denpasar

It’s 9.15am, but I’m too late. Ibu Mangku has already almost sold out. All that’s left of her famous babi guling (slow roasted suckling pig) are a few remnants. Enough for me, it turns out. Whew.

While I’m eating, Ibu Mangku is already busy bundling up 100 bungkus (folded paper take away parcels) of her equally popular satay. When she tells me that they make up to 300 bungkus and 9,000 satay sticks a day; I almost fall off the bench. This humble “holy man’s wife” (the English translation of ibu mangku) is quite the culinary entrepreneur it would seem.

The warung (small roadside restaurant) Babi Guling Gerenceng also dishes up a great early lunch. Shoes off though, because seating here is lesehan style on rattan floor mats. If you’re a babi guling aficionado and love your crackling though, then this is one stop you definitely want to make. 

At Warung Selumbung, the satay is sweet and peppery, and easily polished off in a few bites. Bobbing in a bowl of clear broth, the bakso (meatballs) take me by surprise. So floury and springy, it’s almost like eating gnocchi. I was just as stumped by their lawar. It’s a delicate, chopped-up tumble of long beans, bean sprouts, roasted coconut chunks, pork, deep-fried garlic, finely grated fresh coconut, zingy lemo (a tiny local citrus fruit similar to lime but with a whole lot more punch) and bumbu gede. The ingredients are a line-up of the usual suspects, but done with a twist.

 

Afterwards, an ice-cold es daluman at Warung Mayra hits the spot. The wobbly, forest-green drink is a refreshing mash-up of daluman leaf jelly (the leaves are soaked in water and then squeezed, the liquid setting overnight from the natural gelatin) and palm sugar with coconut milk. Another must try here is the tipat cantok. It’s a mix of green beans, mung-bean sprouts, freshly made tofu, deep-fried garlic, ketupat (soft rice cakes shaped in banana-leaf parcels) and peanut sauce. It’s a little sweet, a little spicy and a little sour, all at the same time, just as it should be. Meanwhile, the kluwak- infused broth of the jukut undis (black-bean soup) is simple and earthy, and one of the best I’ve tried. The rujak here is a winner too. Like a savoury fruit salad, rough-cut slices of raw green mango, pineapple, cassava, cucumber and sweet potato are tossed together in a hot and spicy dressing. It’s Bali’s very rustic take on its more famous and only distantly related Thai cousin, som tum.

Now you can’t miss Warung Betutu Gilimanuk. The scary looking clown (sporting fun, frangipani-decorated ears, no less) on the eatery’s signage let’s you know you’ve reached the right place. It’s all about the betutu here. Marinated in a killer bumbu gede, the bebek betutu (roasted duck) is slow braised until it’s so soft and tender that it seems to melt off the bones as you eat it. This one is eye-wateringly spicy, but oh-so-good.

For the braver gastronomes, a must-try is the sate kakul. Small freshwater snails, they are one of Ball’s most unique regional specialties. Skewered onto satay sticks and served with roasted peanut sauce, they’re also chewier than I had imagined. At the other end of the texture spectrum, deep-fried baby eels offer a satisfying crunch alongside a plate of dark green sayur gonda (blanched watercress), which tastes cleansing and bittersweet.

The essence of real Balinese food is about what is found and foraged. Starfruit leaves, cassava leaves, wild greens, young fern tips, ginger flowers, banana stems and raw forest herbs all have starring parts. The herbs and vegetables are often raw. Nuts are used generously. It’s like the original Paleo diet, Balinese style, and there’s not a curry in sight.

This is why the older generations of Balinese are so robust and spritely. They’ve got a twinkle in their eyes and a deep understanding of the natural culinary world around them. They were cooking in the days when snails and baby eels weren’t farmed, but fished out of rice paddies, with ducks being the pesticide of choice. When animals were free range and hand reared, the meat was fresh and ethically produced. Traditionally organic, you might say. We’d all be a lot healthier and happier if we returned to those ways.

My last stops of the day take me into the neighbourhood of Kereneng Market, another place worth exploring for its amazing stalls of soto and satay. Here, I devour some mie pangsit (handmade noodles) at Warung Mastok, before finally finishing up with a bowl of nourishing soto ceker (chicken-feet soup) around the corner at Soto Purnama.

 

Denpasar is a humble place. It’s not trying to be anything its not, which is part of its charm. Like most cities though, you only really discover its stories and secrets if you’re prepared to wander off the beaten track. Travel globally, eat locally!

Garuda Magazine 12.12