This is the monthly edition of Dapur Saraswati — a newsletter from Prinka Saraswati, which you can read about here. If you like it and want more like it in your inbox, consider subscribing. Read last month’s newsletter about Lontong Cap Go Meh here.
There are days when I’m afraid I would run out of words to say or in this case, to write. 3 years ago I even thought about becoming a yoga instructor when I’d reach my mid-30s or maybe going back to teaching in kindergarten. I treated them as a plan-B and plan-C, just in case my writing career would crumble into pieces. Don’t worry. I don't know what I was talking about when I imagined that this writing thing would vanish. Was it during the time when I used to do hard-selling copywriting for an aesthetic clinic? Was it when I decided to move to Ubud? When was it? Today is definitely not one of those days.
When I started this newsletter almost 1,5 years ago, the thought of not having anything left to write did not cross my mind. I was eager to write about food. I still am. I have a lot to say that I need to take notes of my opinion or somebody else’s. But that does not mean that I have not experienced burnout. Writing this newsletter has become a constant flow for all the conversations and opinions in my head, but this is on top of my freelance writing gig. There are those days when I feel like I cannot finish my own sentence. On those days, I take a break; I choose to move.
Movement is important to me. When I move, I work on my thoughts with ease. Yes. I’m putting off my work. But by putting it off for a little bit, I can have better thoughts. The most accessible place for me to move is in the kitchen. It’s just a 30 seconds walk from my desk. A 30 seconds walk to do simple repetitive movements; chopping the vegetables, peeling off the garlic skin, stirring Rendang constantly (putting the recipe below!), and my favorite; nguleg. Nguleg is a verb in Javanese that means to mash or to crush some spice in a cobekwith an ulegan. In short, it’s crushing spice in Indonesian mortar and pestle. I find serenity when I do the circle movement; stroking the garlic, shallots, and kemiri all together with the ulegan before crushing them down into a paste. Doing it for a good 5 minutes leads to some ideas - sometimes.
Treating cooking as a movement allows me to see it as a simple activity that does not demand much. Instead of thinking that cooking Rendang means crushing a big batch of spice, garlic, and shallots - I’d rather see it as crushing a handful of spice slowly, repeating it a couple of times. Because when I see cooking as labor, it sounds intimidating - and when you’re tight on a deadline, it’s stressful. Of course, I usually opt for simpler meals on busy days; Oseng-oseng, Mie Tektek, and Nasi Goreng. I think it doesn’t matter what meal you cook. What matters is how you follow your own rhythm.
The most difficult thing for me is to have these moments of movement on busy days (read: working as a copywriter from 4 to 6.30 a.m, teaching from 8 a.m to 4 p.m, and doing some follow-ups for another hour or two after dinner). Having a moment of relaxation is indeed a privilege. I realize I need financial stability to be able to live the life I want - just like the time when I had to write publications for plastic surgery for a living LOL - For now, I still have to stitch together some jobs to make a living, frantically writing article pitches or replying to potential clients. Yes. There are times when I just want to rest. As Nicole Frojo pointed out in this piece “Yes, we all should have a right to rest, but the problem is that we don’t actually have that right”.
When I do have some rest that I can actually enjoy, it feels radical. Because sometimes your body is just too tired to rest - let alone to enjoy the movement. Hence, feeling every little movement in cooking feels liberating. I love reading this quote in an interview with Nigella Lawson, “Sometimes you can have better thoughts when you're not exerting yourself to think but rather you’re stirring and chopping”. True. For us who constantly have jumbles of thoughts, little movements help the mind to flow freely.
Now, go take your knife along with cobek and ulegan (girl, a food processor is totally okay!). We’re going to cook Rendang!
This Rendang recipe is adapted from Tante Tanjung’s Rendang Daging (Beef Rendang) recipe. She’s my best friend’s mom; I used to help her (and her daughter) to make Rendang every Idul Fitri (Eid-al-Fitr) before she passed away. Here’s to passing on her legacy.
In this recipe I use canned green jackfruit because I could not find the fresh ones. If you’re like me, canned green jackfruit is great. To minimize the subtle sour taste (from the brine),have a look at my video on how to blanch canned green jackfruit.
To me, Rendang is a great meal to cook when you want to have a break from the world. You will focus on constantly stirring it, making sure it won’t stick to the bottom of the pot. The whole activity is therapeutic.
Usually, for Rendang, the ratio between coconut milk and the protein(if you make beef or chicken rendang) or the vegetable, like this green jackfruit rendang is 2 : 1. So for every 1 kilogram of the protein/vegetable, you need 2 litres of coconut milk.
Some people use both full-body and light coconut milk, but feel free to simply use the thick sultry full-body coconut milk. To guide you about Rendang’s consistency, take a look at this picture below!
