Travelling in Indonesia and a Recipe for Soto Ayam (Chicken Soup)

I'm still coming down from the elation of a mammoth two week holiday to Indonesia with some of my favourite people. We started our trip, fresh off a 25 hour journey, by climbing Mount Rinjani in Lombok - the second highest volcano in Indonesia, and an unexpectedly, ridiculously tough climb. 

Our porters and guide did it in flip flops, shouldering an incredible amount of gear; tents, food, water, the lot. We had a proper cooked meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner - at basecamp, around 2,500m, we ate noodles in soup with tomatoes, green beans, potato and a deep fried, crisp hard-boiled egg, soaking up the resultant soup with freshly steamed rice as the sun set in front of us. We then got up at 3am to haul ourselves to the summit at 3726m, scrabbling on our hands and knees for several hours. Sandy rocks and stones slid underneath you, so that for every step you took, you slid down another two. It was mentally as well as physically challenging. I cried more than once. The euphoria when we reached the top was incredible; we clutched each other, gulping back relieved sobs, before we could take in the view. 

After a 6 hour downhill trudge, we stumbled onto Gili Trawangan, transported by horse and cart to the most wonderful villa we could have asked for and proceeded to thoroughly relax. Any kind of movement for the next 3 days produced gasps and whimpers. 

We carefully avoided the abundance of pizza and burgers, and opted instead for Indonesian food as much as we could find it, usually on quite a limited menu. Our staple diets became nasi goreng (fried rice, and considered Indonesia's national dish) or mee goreng (fried noodles). Made's Warung, on the northern tip of the island and virtually next door to our villa, served up the best iterations we had of these. Otherwise, the daily night market was our best bet, nestled amongst the bars on the main strip, flaring grills and eye-watering smoke mingling amongst the plastic tables and tables. 

Here, we flitted between stalls pointing at whatever we liked to be cooked to order. As there were 6 of us we managed to try a decent variety; freshly barbecued fish was butterflied and flipped on the grill frequently, brushed with a slick of spicy sambal. We picked various curries and vegetables to be piled onto a plate, while the vendor totted up the spend, which rarely came to more than £2 or £3. Sate sticks of calamari, beef, chicken and fish were smoky and meaty, plated with some rice, peanut sauce, and a choice of three sides. All the other Westerners were rejecting the sambal, and it was a fiesty number that made us sweat and reach for the tissues. But it was addictive. 

A chicken soup (Soto Ayam) was produced in seconds, a case of assembling and garnishing. The soup was rich and sweet, bobbing with crunchy cabbage and soft chicken. It was spicy but with a deep roasted flavour, rather than the brightness of fresh chilli. The stall holders were slightly bemused by our scattergun approach, and it was only when we promised them we'd return the crockery from where they came from did their brows unfurrow. Bintang, the local beer, was abundant. 

This kicked off a slight Soto Ayam obsession for me - chicken soup? Just chicken soup? But it was so much more than that. I ordered it again at a posh beachside restaurant, and something completely different turned up. The broth was clear but stained yellow, strong with lemongrass. Seemingly everyone has their own take on it. 

We moved on to Gili Air, to stay in basic beach shacks complete with swinging hammocks for a simpler life. Here, beach barbecues dominated; the best we had was at Chill Out Bar, where we were able to select our own fish for the grill. We feasted on a huge jackfish and giant prawns while our toes sank in the sand. Otherwise, it wasn't immediately easy to find cheaper, more casual food. Unlike Thai islands, the Gilis aren't brimming with street vendors, but scratch the surface a little and you'll uncover the warungs.

We ventured inland to Warung Muslim on the recommendation of our diving instructor. It's nothing but a basic structure, with a rickety wooden table and plastic chairs. Flies are abundant, and a more paranoid person would keep on walking but we persevered. Nasi campur, or 'mixed rice' came with the choice of either fish or chicken curry. The fish was sardines, cooked in a spiced tomato sauce and central to the plate is a scoop of rice, while vegetables, roasted peanuts, tempeh and ground toasted coconut line the sides. It was so good I went back the next day for the chicken version (pictured). It cost me £1.25 each time. 

One night, I gathered my friends and marched everyone down to a place I'd spied that day. On the main strip but without any snazzy lighting, staff to call you in, barbecues or fish out on display was another warung. After poking around the wares, we ordered nasi campur, this time with fried chicken, stir-fried snake gourd and stewed aubergines. I also discovered another of Indonesia's staple dishes - bakso mee, which is meatball noodle soup. The meatballs are made much like the Chinese fishballs - the meat (beef, I believe in this case) is pounded and worked until it becomes smooth and sticky, so that they're bouncy and springy when cooked. Simple and satisfying, the clear soup is unchallenging, though livened up with - yep - incendiary sambal. Otherwise, our beach huts, Gili Air Santay served delicious Indonesian and Thai food we were happy with eating most days. (On a side note, they were really lovely hosts.) 

We headed off to the Balinese mountains, to stay at Sarinbuana Eco Lodge for the last nights of our trip. A 3 hour car ride was completely worth it, as when we arrived the tranquility and beauty of it soothed our sweaty and travel-weary selves. Located at 700m at the foot of Mount Batukaru, the days were still hot while the nights were substantially cooler - it was a joy to sleep under a blanket. 

We stayed in the Treehouse, which was completely gorgeous - we had an open verandas to the jungle, as well as the bedroom. They're very supportive of the local community; staffed by locals, they also run various workshops like learning the Balinese flute, or wood carving, if you're into that kind of thing. As it's quite a remote location, I imagine if you'd stayed there for a length of time it would be appealing. In between watching the sunrise, doing a spot of yoga, reflexology massages and swimming in the natural water holes, we did a temple walk; our guide was incredibly helpful, and pointed out all the edible plants and fruits on the way. 

They grow all their vegetables on site, and as everything is prepared to order, we had to order breakfast, lunch and dinner during the mealtime before that. Balinese chicken curry was lightly spiced and fragrant, delicate and packed full of vegetables and potatoes. 

Ikan pepes was fish made into a paste, spiced and grilled in banana leaves. The accompanying sambal was made with lemongrass and green chillis - it was insanely delicious, and I'm glad I questioned them thoroughly for the list of ingredients to recreate at home (standby...). Breakfast was similarly refined and well presented - a fruit platter of pineapple, papaya, watermelon, banana and mango preceded some excellent pancakes, drizzled with palm sugar syrup. I thought I'd struggle as there were no savoury options, but I got by just fine. 

Soto Ayam was also on the menu, so it obviously had to be ordered. This was again different; still tinged yellow, but with beansprouts, some slivered kale, and tomatoes. Celery leaf gave it a herbal tone, and the soup was light and clear. The rice it was served with was total over-kill, but I am greedy so it was dipped in often too. 

On my return, it took just a week before I missed Soto Ayam, and I set out to make up my own. I enjoyed the lemongrass aspect of the ones I'd tried so that had to go in, though being SO packed the eco lodge's version was difficult to taste the soothing simplicity of the broth so I pared mine down a touch. I imagine during chillier months, a little more spice and perhaps coconut milk would be good variations.

Soto Ayam 

Serves 4

1 free-range, cornfed chicken, around 1.5kg
2 sticks of lemongrass, chopped roughly
4 kaffir lime leaves
1 carrot, chopped roughly
2 sticks of celery, leaves reserved and the stems chopped roughly
1 tbsp peppercorns
2 shallots, peeled and minced
6 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 inch piece of ginger, peeled and chopped finely
1 tsp ground coriander
200gr packet of rice vermicelli, soaked in hot water until soft
A large handful of beansprouts
2 tomatoes, quartered
3 sprout tops leaves, julienned and blanched (optional - kale or cabbage is also good)
2 hard-boiled eggs
A couple sprigs of coriander
1 tsp salt
Kecap manis and Sambal Asli (or another chilli sauce), to serve
1 tbsp cooking oil

Place the chicken in a large stockpot with the lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, carrot and celery sticks. Cover with water and bring to the boil on the highest heat. Turn the heat down to low, so it is on a bare simmer, and skim the surface for scum. Place the lid on and cook for 40 minutes. 

Take the pot off the heat and leave to cool for half an hour. Take the chicken out and place on a plate.

Put the shallots, garlic and ginger in a pestle and mortar and pound with the tsp of salt until it turns into a paste. Add the turmeric and ground coriander and pound some more. Add the peppercorns and keep pounding until they're lightly crushed.

In a large saucepan, heat the cooking oil until shimmering on a medium heat. Add the paste and fry for 2 - 3 minutes, stirring continuously. Add all the chicken stock, strained through a sieve, and simmer for 20 minutes without the lid on.

While this is happening, assemble your bowls. Drain and divide the noodles equally. Take the chicken meat off the thighs and legs (discarding the skin) and break the meat up into bitesize chunks. The breast meat can be reserved for sandwiches or salads. Divide the beansprouts equally, and the tomatoes. Garnish with half a boiled egg, sprout tops, coriander and celery leaves. 

Heat the stock so that it is bubbling furiously for a moment and carefully ladle the stock into the bowls, through a sieve. Serve with traditional Indonesian condiments that we found on every table - kecap manis (which is soy sauce with a lot of sugar in it) and Sambal Asli, which bizarrely we couldn't find in any shops out there, but I found in Wing Tai in Peckham. Huh. Any chilli sauce will be good here. Serve immediately. 

Chu-Hou Braised Beef Noodle Soup

I've experimented with braising beef loads of times, and I now have different recipes depending on mood and season. When the weather turns cooler, I look for something bold, that wallops you in the face, spicy and warming, like the classic Sichuan red-braising. Other times, I want the broth to be clear, light and as cleansing as beef can be and so aromatic spices only are used, like here.  

This recipe straddles the two. The sauce is thick and luscious, and the flavours simple and unchallenging. It uses Chu Hou sauce, which you can buy at Chinese supermarkets (or online here); it's made using soybeans, sesame oil, ginger, garlic and spring onion - it's basically a flavour bomb. You do need to augment it with fresh, though. This sauce is used for braising and stewing meat, and it gives an incredible umami flavour to whatever you're making. You can serve the beef with noodles or on rice. 

Chu-Hou Braised Beef Noodle Soup

Serves 4

1kg beef brisket, chopped into large bite-sized chunks (I often use half beef tendon instead)
1 medium daikon, peeled and roll-cut
2 star anise
3 slices of peeled ginger
3 spring onions - chop 2 roughly, and 1 finely into rings
3 tbsp Chu Hou paste
2 litres of water
2 tsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
1 tsp cornflour slaked with 1 tbsp water
A small piece of yellow rock sugar
1 tbsp cooking oil
Blanched pak choi or choi sum, to serve
Ho fun noodles or rice, to serve

Place the beef in a pot of boiling water and simmer for 3 minutes, then drain.

In a wok, heat up the oil on a medium heat and add the ginger, roughly chopped spring onions and stir-fry until aromatic. Add the paste, then add the beef chunks in and stir well. Add the 2 litres of water, the oyster sauce and the yellow rock sugar and simmer very gently for 2 hours. Add the daikon in and simmer for a further 40 minutes. 

Add the light soy and the cornflour and simmer for a further 2 minutes, then take off the heat. Add the noodles to a deep serving bowl per person and place blanched leaves around the edges. Avoiding the star anise, ladle the beef and daikon into the bowls, then ladle enough sauce in so that the noodles are bobbing, but not drowning. Garnish with spring onion rings. 

Catford Constitutional Club

I'm a fan of Antic pubs. The Royal Albert was my stalwart local during my four years in New Cross, and I could while away hours in there with friends, sipping on pints and playing Shithead. I frequent the East Dulwich Tavern often, and I've thrown myself around the dance floor at The Effra Social several times. I've also had quiet pints in the sunshine out the front, as traffic roars past the busy road. The less said about The Job Centre in Deptford, the better though. That one is a bit weird. 

I recently went to the Catford Constitutional Club, and if you've been to The Effra Social you'll be familiar with the style. Old-style bunting, mismatched old chairs and sofas have been carefully curated to give the place a feeling of comfort, like you're at your batty old aunt's place. I don't know if you've ever been to Catford, but it's not that easy to find a good pub that sells beer in clean glasses and might actually feed you too. The place was pleasantly busy, the clientele mixed, with mainly older couples and friends. They do a big range of bottled craft-y beers if that's your thing, but also the standard lagers and some interesting ales.

The food was pretty good, too. We waited a while for it, and when it came it all came at once but the deep-fried calamari were crisp and hot, perfect snacking food with an appropriately garlicky mayo. My own pork chop was served with wholegrain mustard mash and a baked half apple, and the crisp sage leaves added another dimension. The pork chop was obviously of good source - you can tell by the delicious, creamy fat, and a little less time in the pan would have made for a more tender chop. 

My friend's smoked haddock with kale, a poached egg and a hollandaise-like sauce didn't skimp on the new potatoes and I assume it was good, as it was finished off in no time. They do that annoying thing where they charge around £2.50 for sides, which always makes me feel like I have an incomplete meal when I don't bother with them but we were happily full without them, if a bit vegetable-deficient. I imagine it's a welcome addition to the residents of Catford and the surrounds; we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening there. 

(If you're in Catford do check out FLK Groceries - it's a great little Chinese shop. The owner is really lovely, and on hand to impart advice.) 

Catford Constitutional Club
Catford Broadway
London SE6 4SP 
020 8613 7188

Lake Bled & Ljubljana, Slovenia

When I found out that I was going to Ljubljana with work, besides its initially unpronounceable name, I didn't give it much else thought. Ignorantly, I'd put it down to be a grey Eastern Bloc kind of city, a bit drab and dreary. I imagined meaty stews and dumplings.

I couldn't have been further from the truth. After our 2 hour plane journey, I was taken aback by how picturesque Slovenia's capital, Ljubljana, is. The city is split by a canal running through the middle of it and cobbled streets are lined with cafes and pretty peach facades of churches, topped with turquoise-green domes. Dragon Bridge, crossing the river is one of Europe's earliest reinforced bridges, decorated by four dragons on plinths (top picture); the legend is that Jason and the Argonauts founded the town, and they killed a dragon here. 

It's not a large place; we did most of our exploring by foot, and we could traverse the town in around 15 to 20 minutes. The city is divided into old and new towns, the old radiating out from the castle perched atop a steep hill, dating back to the eleventh century. A slog up a gravel path rewards you with an impressive view of the city; higgledy piggledy architecture of sandwich-shaped buildings, an abundance of churches, and strange grey blocks on top of buildings, telling the time. We discovered the funicular to descend in. 

I was, for the most part, wrong about the food too. What with its proximity to Italy, many menus featured pastas and risottos, and there was a lot of pizza around. At the time of our visit (October), what was most prevalent was the abundance of truffles. Truffles topped steaks, dressed pastas and were grated over fish. We were given a jar of truffle paste in our welcome bags from our hosts. I've eaten more truffle in my week there than combined, in my lifetime. 

Restaurant Julija presented our first truffle-laden meal. Their signature dish, the Steak Julija was a fillet, smothered in a creamy truffled sauce and accompanied by a chargrilled half-endive. Seven out of our party of eight ordered this, and each were cooked perfectly. It was no trifling portion - which was something we'd soon learn about Ljubljana - especially with hefty sides.

Less popular with the group were the cheese dumplings, a speciality of Ljubljana, called 'sirovi knedeljni'. Actually, I was the only person that liked them. They were very thin, papery crepes rolled up and interspersed with a curd-like cheese, mild in flavour. Seemingly boiled or steamed, they're soft and yielding to the fork. They reminded me very much of the Turkish borek, and later I found that 'burek' are indeed a popular fast food snack there. 

Horse was also common on the menus of the more traditional restaurants. Restaurant Spajza was firmly ensconsed in the old town, down a pretty street. The restaurant is split off into several sections, each holding one or two tables, candlelight struggling to brighten the wooden-panelled rooms. The menu was, as far as I could tell, as traditional as one might get - deer tartare, young horse carpaccio and smoked goose breast with truffles all appealed on the starters. We were given amuses of shredded horse meat topped with parmesan - smoked and dried, the flavour was much like beef. 

Having had a rather meaty time so far, I opted for the 'žlikrofi' with shrimp tails and morels. žlikrofi are delicate dumplings filled with potato, and in this instance they were dressed with a light cream sauce, the earthy morels dominating the flavour. I had thought they were a type of stuffed pasta, an influence from nearby-Italy, but actually these are so traditionally Slovenian that in 2010 they were awarded with protected geographical status. 

The Mediterranean-style octopus main course came in a huge cast iron pan in a puttanesca-style sauce, and the spicy tomato held chunks of new potatoes, olives, courgettes and capers; it was only a shame that I had to stuff it all in, having waited an hour for our mains and being pretty late for a meeting. I put that down to the sudden influx of diners, all suspiciously male, probably because of a certain US model dining at the table next to us. Otherwise, I'd strongly recommend Spajza - the food was well prepared, the menu was captivating and the waiting staff knowledgeable. 

Karst is a region in Slovenia well known for its caves and underground lakes - seemingly for their sausages too, as this dish was billed. The snappy skin of a frankfurter was evident here, and it was served with a smear of mustard that had the flavour, if not the colour, of French's. This one in particular from Zlata Ribica, a pretty canal-side cafe under sun umbrellas, came with the added bonus of palette-awakening grated horseradish on top, although the triangles of baked polenta were a touch dry. I'd seen it at other restaurants, also served in pairs, served with potatoes and a cabbage and apple slaw. 

We tried out a little of the high end, too. Restaurant Strelec, in the castle grounds, had sheepskin chairs for the outdoor tables and a view of the city. When we stopped by for lunch we were the only people in the restaurant - Ljubljana, it seems, is not particularly busy - and the 'poor man's bread' was probably the most impressive starter. A potato cylinder was cut open to reveal liquid egg yolk, pouring out to mingle with the potato foam covered with grated truffle (of course). We were told that back in the olden days, potatoes were cheaper than bread, hence the name. While our meal was well put together, it lacked a little passion; it was pretty and flavoursome food on stark white plates, made up of butter-laden creamy potato and rich, reduced jus. We could have been anywhere in Europe.

I can't be that long away without rice, and a trip to Sushimama made me wonder what Slovenian sushi would be like. It was very good. We eschewed the a la carte section of sushi and nigiri (some with truffle, obvs) for an easier sushi and sashimi section, all nicely made and well plated. Wagyu beef was served on a platter, raw, with a scorching hot stone to sear our own meat on, and a ponzu dip for swooshing in. My favourite was the eel (unagi), brushed with a smoky glaze. I'm never unhappy with this dish, it's just got the best combination of firm fish, savoury depth and sweet sauce, all soaking into rice. it wasn't the cheapest meal we had at around £45 / head but Japanese food rarely is. 

We headed to Bled. In the north west of the country, it's around a a 40 minute drive from the capital, passing white-topped mountains and lush green forestry. Lake Bled is a tourist spot; pictures of 'cremeschnitte' decorate the sides of buildings, and boats full of tourists are lazily rowed around the lake. Another castle on top of a hill, this from the 17th Century, was another breath-taking 15 minute hike - not recommended after a couple of beers. Amidst the tourists wielding DLSRs and waving iPhones around, it was a breath-taking view, and quite a peaceful one too. 

The cremeschnitte ('cream slice') itself is not to be missed - I don't think you could if you tried. It's a speciality of Bled, and it consists of flaky pastry, and a surprisingly light cream and custard mousse-like centres. 

We didn't eat in many restaurants in Bled since we weren't there for long, but the 'eco-lodge' feel of Garden Village was certainly impressive. The restaurant was made up of light wood with grassy squares and herb boxes built into the centre of the tables. They were kind enough to open up for our large group especially, and while a broccoli soup hit the spot, the buckwheat roulade with cream cheese that accompanied our mains was quite... weird. This was no cheese dumpling. Still, the unusual surroundings of the glass-sided building made for a sun-soaked early autumn setting. That evening, a cream of mushroom soup followed by the Autumn risotto with chestnuts, beef fillet and truffles at the Best Western was pretty damn tasty, much to my surprise (as I usually cynically am about hotel chains). A week of expectations smashed to smithereens.  

Smacked Cucumber Salad, Turbo-Charged

A big part of my cooking life is the love of experimentation. I've fiddled and tweaked and added to already established recipes countless times because of curiosity, or carelessness in the shopping process, so that I've had to substitute something for whatever I forgot to buy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes that additional ingredient lifts that dish from the norm to the outstanding (often, it's fresh herbs) but other times it just doesn't need anything else. It's perfect as it is. But you don't know until you try, and with Smacked Cucumbers I've tried many things. 

Stripped down to its basics, it consists of these main components: Salt, chilli oil, garlic, sugar and vinegar. Salty, sweet, sour and spicy, in a happy balance, soaking into the bland cooling cucumber. What if you were to take each of these flavour profiles to the extreme? 

I started off with making an infused garlic oil, made by frying garlic chips of uniform thickness as a base. This then became the chilli oil, and to it, I added some spices. Fennel seed and coriander seed for fragrance, and a star anise for depth. Palm sugar went in next, for the most caramel-rich of the sugars, and the salty aspect, with a little sweet for good measure, came in the form of soy sauce and white miso. Chilli was provided by Korean chilli flakes - mild, but vivid red. Sichuan peppercorns give tingle, and the punch was provided by finely minced fresh green jalapeno peppers. Sour? Sherry vinegar, Chinkiang black vinegar, and a squirt of lime. 

It works marvellously. With a simple crisp-skinned salmon fillet and some rice, the richness of the sauce takes centre stage. For something to accompany meat stews or stir-fries, the simpler option is probably best for some cooling relief - otherwise, this turbo-charged version is a winner. 

Smacked Cucumber Salad, Turbo Charged

Serves 4 as a side 

200ml vegetable oil
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced very thinly
1 tsp fennel seeds
1 tbsp coriander seeds 
1/2 star anise
1 tsp Sichuan peppercorns
1 tbsp Korean chilli flakes
1 tbsp light soy sauce
2 tsp palm sugar
1 tbsp Chinkiang black vinegar
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1 clove garlic
1 fresh green jalapeno, minced
2 long, slim cucumbers, washed and topped and tailed
1/2 tbsp toasted sesame oil
A few coriander leaves
Table salt

Place a clean tea over the cucumbers and smack lightly with a rolling pin, until squashed. Chop roughly and place in a colander - sprinkle with table salt and leave over the sink for the juices to leech out. 

Place the oil in a small saucepan with the garlic chips, cold. Place on a medium heat, and watch like a hawk. When the oil starts to bubble, swirl the garlic chips around to separate them. When they start to turn a light golden, take off the heat and carry on swirling - they will become browner in the oil. Do not let them go beyond a peanut brown, or they will become bitter. 

Drain the oil into a heat proof bowl, and place the chips on a piece of kitchen towel to soak up excess oil. 

Pour the oil back into the pan, and place back on a medium heat. Add the star anise, fennel seeds, sichuan peppercorns and the coriander seeds. Bubble for 30 seconds, then remove from the heat and add the chilli powder. Return to a low heat and stir continuously until the chilli powder darkens but does not burn. Remove from the heat and leave to cool. 

Remove the star anise, then add the sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, vinegars, and clove of garlic. Place in a small chopper or blender and process until smooth. Add the miso and process again. 

Rinse the cucumber well and pat dry. Place in a large bowl, and pour the dressing over. Toss well to ensure all the pieces are covered. Place the cucumber on a plate, and garnish with the minced jalapeno, garlic chips and the coriander leaves.