As a child, I was fascinated by my grandmother’s cooking.
From the sizzling oil in the frying pan to the wonderful smell of the spices, her kitchen transported me to the bustling street markets of Indonesia.
Although I have visited Bali, I feel that I never got to see the true side of the country as the island has become commercialised. And as a woman of ethnic minority, growing up in Britain, I have found it difficult to maintain a connection to my heritage over the years.
Although I grew up in a racially diverse neighbourhood, I have never met another Indonesian person in the UK, which can feel very lonely at times when I want to celebrate my culture.
My grandparents fled Indonesia during the revolution in the 1950s and migrated to the Netherlands, where they raised my mother – who later moved to Britain after she met my father, who is British.
Food has become the only aspect of our culture that I’m consistently exposed to, and take part in myself.
When I got older, I enjoyed helping with simple tasks, such as folding pangsit (a minced pastry snack) and frying bideran (a fried sweet snack).
It’s always been important to my grandmother that we follow the traditional recipe exactly as it states. For example, you must slice the cucumbers horizontally, not vertically, for gado gado salad (or else it apparently won’t taste the same).
We often make an Indonesian sweet called klepon, a pandan-flavoured rice ball covered in desiccated coconut, filled with melted palm sugar.
While I make mistakes when learning, my grandmother is patient and has taught me well.
Our moments in the kitchen together have built a strong bond between the two of us. Similarly, my mother learnt how to cook from her own grandmother, which makes the experience all the more important.
During lockdown, I wanted to practise making klepon and so I called my grandmother via FaceTime and asked for help. Just like when I was younger, she guided me through the recipe, and although there was a screen between us, I could feel her love through the food we made together.
Cooking has also become a way for me to learn about life in Indonesia.
One time, after making kolak pisang (banana and sweet potato in coconut milk), we sat in the garden and spoke about her experience during the Indonesian Revolution. It broke my heart to hear the horrors of colonialism in my home country.
Last weekend was of particular importance to my grandparents as it marked the 75th anniversary of the end of the Japanese occupation in Indonesia, which was a Dutch colony at the time. The liberation inspired Indonesians to fight for their independence from the Netherlands, which they declared two days later on 17 August 1945.
I sometimes wonder what life would be like if Europeans had never arrived in Indonesia. Perhaps my grandparents wouldn’t have left, perhaps I would have spent my life there and not been a woman of ethnic minority as I am here in the UK.
Growing up, no one had the same background as me and it sometimes made me feel like an outsider.
And the discrimination towards ethnic minorities in the UK is more prominent than ever before, thanks to social media and the internet.
Although the increasing awareness of racism is important, constant conversation about it can be emotionally draining and painful for people like me. It’s difficult to hear horrific stories of racial discrimination, knowing full well that that I could have been you instead.
It is important that we support each other and continue the fight for equality.
I believe that the UK would be far less racially divided if we all celebrated our cultural differences and tried new things – and, in my opinion, food could bridge that gap.
All non-Indonesians who have tried our Indonesian food have been open-minded and curious.
For example, my mother likes to cook satay (skewered meat) for BBQs, which is always very popular with guests. Some have even asked for the recipe and made it themselves for their own parties.
And so, without being fully aware of it, these people have sampled part of our culture – and educated themselves.
No matter where we travel in the world, I know that my family will always be connected through cooking.
Food, and sharing her knowledge with our family, is incredibly important to my grandmother – she has even written a recipe book so that we can continue embracing our heritage for generations to come.
One day I will inherit this book, which I will later hand down to my own children. It makes me proud.
I want to share our passion for cooking and for Indonesia, and I feel it’s my responsibility to do so.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing almara.abgarian@metro.co.uk.
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source https://metro.co.uk/2020/08/23/indonesian-heritage-cooking-13113833/
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