Where the food has no name . . .

Padang, West Sumatra

Where the food has no name . . .

If there such as thing as a national cuisine in Indonesia one would think of nasi goreng, sate and gado-gado. If there is one regional cuisine which is prevalent everywhere in Indonesia is has to be Masakan Padang. One would have to go out of their way to find a city a town and perhaps even a village which does not have a Padang restaurant. The nationalist credo, Dari Sabang ke Merauke, (From Sabang to Merauke) certainly applies to Padang food.

Eponymous food speaks to its popularity except in its place of origin where it is simply known as food. It is only non-natives who want to recall that sausage from Frankfurt, the meat patty from Hamburg, the duck from Beijing, the schnitzel from Wien or the jelly doughnut from Berlin who refer to it differently. All of these foods have become icons for their home city.

Masakan Padang has the potential to do the same for Padang.

One has to wonder a bit about the appeal of Padang restaurants. If one were to describe a restaurant which had no menus, where one ate communally, were small servings of at best lukewarm food, cooked at some undisclosed location at some point earlier in the day (we hope!) that had caloric and cholesterol values which were off the chart it would not necessarily attract a following. Certainly not a following which outpaces McDonalds in both numbers served and speed of service received.

There is however something magical about the 25 or more small plates arranged on the table, boasting every imaginable type of food in a rainbow of almost neon colors from yellow, orange, red, dark brown to deep greens. Not every dish is immediately identifiable. "Apa itu?" is perhaps the most widely mouthed phrase after "enak banget" when the plates are dealt out on the table. Part of the fun is the mystery food game, could it possibly be, nah, yes it is (fill in the blank with the most obscure animal part you can think of). The corollary to the what the hell is it has to be the "who will eat it?" game. And yes the true magic of a Padang restaurant is that no matter how obscure the dish there is always someone who just loves otak-otak, dendeng or kari kepala ikan.

Padang restaurants are also the great social equalizer, everyone sits at the same table, eats from the same dishes and relishes the food with the same appetite. Gone, at least for a moment, are the social strata which moments earlier still ruled and will again once back in the car or on the road.

Perhaps the food tastes so good because we know it is still hours until we get to our final destination, perhaps it is because we have been hiking around in the sun all afternoon. It certainly is not because of the chattyness of the waiters. None of the hello my name is Iqbal, I am your server today, let me tell you about our specials at this West Sumatran version of a truck stop. You barely have enough time to sit down before a huge pot of rice is brought out, followed immediately by a deck of plates expertly shuffled onto the table by the fastest moving waiters I have seen anywhere. In fact I have never seen anyone move that fast serving anything in Indonesia.

Padang where the food has no name . . .