Hot stuff in the kitchen

By JENNIFER GRIMWADE

Although it looks chaotic, it is actually very quiet at the early market. All the other shoppers, like me, are just waking up, but the traders are full of tricks and make me feel more than welcome.

They are so friendly, I wish I could speak their language. In desperation I try a joke - I pick up a huge bag of big red chillies and pretend to be Balinese, trying to balance it on top of my fair head. It causes hysterics. Peals of laughter can be heard aisles away, as the gag is passed from the spice traders to the egg ladies and on to the flower stalls.

All the Balinese men are still in bed - this is women's work. The only men at the market are our teacher, Heinz von Holzen, and my fellow Balinese cooking class students.

We are buying ingredients for our morning's cookery school and, at the same time, learning the culinary habits of the Balinese.

Most of the women shopping have just enough money to buy food to feed their family for one day. What's more, they don't have any refrigerators.

If they can afford it, they buy their favourite meat - pork. Beef is rarely on the menu but they do enjoy crickets, flying foxes, dragonflies, small eels, frogs and some larvae. Duck is reserved for festivals.

Vegetables are high on the agenda. Coconut is an essential and the ubiquitous spices are sold in tiny packets for daily consumption.

It is just as important to buy offerings for honouring the spirits and safeguarding the family. Market stalls sell incense and flowers, special baskets hand-made from palm and banana leaves, even shredded pandanus leaf.

Rice is such an integral part of Balinese cuisine that anything without this grain is not considered a meal - it is just a snack. Every day, the Balinese eat at least 1/2kg of rice served at room temperature. They prefer long-grained varieties rather like the fragrant Thai rice. Dewi Sri, the Rice Goddess who personifies the life force, is undoubtedly the most worshipped deity in Bali.

As soon as the women return home, they start cooking. Once the food is cooked, everyone else is free to help themselves whenever they feel hungry.

Families never eat together and the men often eat first, in the corner, by hand. When they've finished, they invariably smoke a kretek, a clove cigarette. Families eat together only on festive occasions - also the only times when the men cook.

In contrast to the fruit and vegetable market, most of the traders at the fish market are men. Red emperor, squid, bonito and blue swimmer crabs are displayed on beds of ice, while around it all preschool kids are frolicking and sucking on mangoes.

Even though the seas surrounding Bali are rich in fish, seafood is not a major part of the Balinese diet. The Balinese are not enthusiastic fishermen because they believe the gods live in the holy mountains and the evil spirits live in the sea, which consequently has a mysterious power.

Instead of choosing the fish himself, our teacher, Heinz von Holzen, says to our small group, "You select, I pay. The deal is if the fish is six hours out of the water, you pay. Like all fish, if you can smell fish, it's no good. You must smell the squid first."

Fortunately the fish is fresh and none of us have to reach into our pockets.

With baskets brimming with fresh produce, we set off to the cooking school.

I realise I haven't seen another tourist. I also realise it is way past my breakfast time. When we arrive at the Bumbu Bali restaurant and cooking school, I am happy to break with tradition and tuck into sweet fried bananas and black rice pudding, sticky flour rice dumplings served with palm sugar syrup and coconut milk.

If we had followed tradition, we would have eaten a large serve of rice flavoured with a side dish of meat for breakfast. Instead, we had eaten what is considered to be a late morning snack.

The Bumbu Bali classroom is a kitchen with a bamboo roof, opening on to a courtyard shaded with bright bougainvillea and scented with frangipani. Cocks crow in the background, and scooters driving past spoil the peace of our quiet refuge.

No doubt the Balinese hear the same sounds when they are cooking in their kitchens on a wood-fired stove topped with a blackened clay pot for steaming rice and leaf-wrapped food.

In every Balinese household, the kitchen is in the least auspicious part of the family compound, closest to the sea. The area closest to the mountains is reserved for deities and shrines.

As we are tying on our aprons Heinz says, "Let's do it the Balinese way. Males think. Women work. Simple dishes are done by ladies. Complicated dishes are always done by men."

He continues to explain how, when cooking for festive occasions, the men undertake the more physical tasks, such as grating mounds of coconut and slaughtering pigs. The women peel and chop the fresh seasonings. I'm pleased to see someone else had peeled and chopped bowls of fresh garlic, shallots and chillies while we were enjoying the local markets.

We all look somewhat intimidated when Heinz says, "In Balinese cooking, you either bruise the food or you massage it."

He then proceeds to give us all plastic gloves and tells us spoons are not a major component of traditional Balinese cooking. We understand this is indeed going to be a hands-on experience.

We begin by making the foundation of most Balinese dishes, Bumbu, spice pastes (see recipe). It's hot and humid and I am relieved Heinz doesn't expect me to pound spices in a mortar and pestle, rather he encourages us to use a blender.

As we start cooking a heady mix of spices - including chillies, the Balinese Vitamin C, oodles of garlic and bundles of ginger - the rich aroma begins to overpower the sweet scent of the frangipani.

Heinz is adamant we must follow the recipes exactly, which I find intriguing, as he also tells us the Balinese never write down their recipes, they just hand them down from generation to generation.

Strolling around the market is beginning to look like real fun, for we have so much cooking to do, Heinz tells us not to waste time talking. We have to make not only a basic spice paste, but different pastes for beef, chicken and seafood.

Next we make a "mild" tomato sambal. It has 2kg of tomatoes, but the recipe calls for 1kg large red chillies and 500g of bird's-eye chillies (the really hot ones).

As the morning progresses, I realise that nearly all the recipes incorporate the spice pastes and, like satay, many dishes we are cooking are marinated in them.

There's no rest for the hot, sticky and wicked, sweating in our plastic gloves. But the gloves are really a necessity, as we handle so many chillies.

To prevent the satay sticks from splintering we soak the bamboo skewers in water for 10 minutes. And to caramelise the satays, we add palm sugar, the sap of the palm tree, tapped rather like a rubber tree. For variation we make some satays on sticks of lemon grass.

As the Balinese like to slightly char their barbecued meats, it is best to cook the satays over a hot fire of coconut husks, for which you can substitute charcoal.

Everything we cook is either grilled, steamed, roasted or stewed. Even the ox tongue in sweet nutmeg sauce is simmered in a heavy stock-pot. Vegetables are blanched and marinated in spice mixes and eaten like a salad.

The only fried food we prepare is nasi goreng, Indonesia's most renowned dish. But Heinz scoffs at it, and assures us it is always a leftovers dish and there are as many varieties as cooks in Indonesia.

He's much more enthusiastic about teaching us to prepare the ever-popular tum, highly seasoned parcels of steamed food. Tasty morsels are wrapped in banana leaves, which have been quickly cooked on both sides to prevent them from breaking when you wrap up the parcels.

When we finally sit down to savour the fruits of our labours, the tumeric stains on my dress show this has indeed been a hands-on experience.

Thankfully the dishes all taste great, especially the pork in sweet soy sauce, the minced seafood satay and the fish grilled in banana leaf.

What goes in the pot

Your guide to Balinese ingredients

Basil: preferably lemon-scented if available

Candlenuts: may substitute macadamia or raw cashew nuts

Cardamon pods

Chillies: large and less hot; moderate; and the tiny, fiery bird's-eye

Cinnamon sticks

Cloves

Coconut: desiccated; milk; and cream

Coriander seeds

Garlic

Ginger: fresh, never substitute the differently flavoured powdered ginger

Kencur: a root similar to ginger, can use dried or powdered

Laos, galangal: dried and powdered substitutes are okay

Lemon grass: remove outer leaves and either chop or pound

Lime: juice and leaves. Kaffir limes are best

Nutmeg

Palm sugar

Pandan leaf or screwpine leaf

Peanuts: raw and roasted

Pepper: black and white

Salam leaves: no substitute, but dried is fine, or omit

Shallots

Shrimp paste: dried. Spread on foil and grill required amount

Soy sauces: sweet and salty

Tamarind

Turmeric: may substitute dried

Spice pastes

If using a food processor, blend dry spices first and then add all other ingredients except the oil. If using traditional mortar and pestle, first pound the dry spices, then the hard fresh ingredients and add the remainder.

The Balinese make different spice pastes for chicken, vegetables, beef, duck, pork and seafood. If you only wish to make one spice paste and use it with everything, make the following chicken paste.

Base be Siap

(Spice paste for chicken)

450g shallots, peeled

250g garlic cloves, peeled

100g kencur root, peeled and chopped, can use 2 1/2Tbs powdered

120g laos (galangal), peeled and chopped

200g candlenuts

250g fresh turmeric, peeled and chopped. If dry, use 2 1/2Tbs

120g chopped palm sugar

100g bird's-eye chillies, finely sliced

300ml vegetable oil

4 stalks lemon grass, bruised

5 salam leaves, no substitute, but dried is fine

500ml water

1 1/2Tbs salt

Grind all ingredients except oil, lemon grass, salam leaves, salt and water, coarsely in food processor. Place in a heavy saucepan, add all remaining ingredients and cook over medium heat for about 60 minutes, or until water is evaporated and marinade changes to golden colour.

Cool before using.

Will keep refrigerated for at least a week. May also be frozen, preferably in ice blocks, for 6 months

CASE NOTES

When to go

The average temperature 26C. Humidity is 75 per cent year round.

The dry season is May to November, wet season November to April.

July is the coolest month and January wettest.

Airport and transport

Ngurah Rai International Airport is on a narrow isthmus to the south of the island.

Taxi fares are fixed at the airport and start from $7 to Kuta.

The Ubud Bumbu Bali Cooking School

Write to PO Box 132, Nusa Dua Bali 80361, Indonesia.

Money

Rupiah, normally abbreviated to Rp. Exchange rate: about 4000Rp = NZ$1.

Secrets of Balinese Cuisine