 Rijsttafel and Agar Agar dessert is served at Banyan in Manhattan Beach. |
In 1999, the Tjakra family thought they'd found the perfect location for an import shop: a tiny whitewashed bungalow on busy PCH that used to be a fortune telling salon. Thinking a few "ethnic" snacks would carry forth the shop's theme, they recruited Mrs. Tjakra's mother, Doris Teo, to prepare her hot ginger tea, a few nibbles and what is now her trademark chicken-potato curry. It soon became clear Teo's food was what kept customers returning.
The Tjakras soon added seating on the bungalow's patio, wrapping it in bamboo fencing and installing tropical fish ponds lush with water lilies. The modest but carefully detailed space almost feels like an elegant Balinese resort. Now it's renamed the Banyan Water Garden Cafe, but you still have to wend your way through the carved elephants, batiks and Capiz shell mementos on your way to the dining area.
The same sense of taste is displayed at the more sophisticated Banyan in Manhattan Beach, a jewel box of a room where a glass-enclosed waterfall splashes by the entryway and the walls radiate a muted cardinal red. And Teo's cooking shows a similar intelligence and taste. Every plate of food is gracefully arranged with meticulously cut, precisely cooked vegetables. Teo prepares fresh red chile sambal daily and blends spices and herbs for all her curries.
Illustrative of Teo's artistry is her rijsttafel (spelled "rystafel" on this menu). In American Indonesian restaurants, this rice-centered feast, a long parade of items from spice-laden stews to airy crisp shrimp wafers, is too often an invitation for an eating orgy. The Banyans' meal, though substantial, has the restrained quality of a Japanese kaiseki bento.
In a nod to tradition, the rijsttafel, comprised of a dozen or so items, comes to the table on a banana leaf -- one made of highly glazed ceramic. Pale yellow rice formed into a tall cone goes with three variously spiced curries: mild chicken curry, a vegetable curry that emits a slow-building burn and beef rendang, with a more immediate fire flashing through its cloak of deep russet-stained coconut milk. Among the rijsttafel's slew of accompaniments is mango "pickle" (actually diced mangoes mixed with half-cured cucumbers), a gado gado salad in a light peanut sauce, chunks of tempeh sautéed with caramelized onion and finally a crisp fish cake.
Teo's cooking lacks the insanely spicy sauces, fermented fishy undertones and rough edges you might find at a Yogyakarta food stall or even in any number of Indonesian restaurants in Los Angeles. "Smoothed out" though they are, however, all the dishes are packed with well-balanced flavor.
Simple meals at either Banyan may be individual specialties such as mie goreng, a dish of smoky stir-fried noodles; or nasi goreng, stir-fried rice with vegetables or chicken (both cooked with the fresh chile quotient you request). For more variety there are more than half a dozen combination options: a plate with three kinds of satay served with rich coconut-braised rice, a satay/gado gado/curry combo plate, a vegetarian assortment based on the slightly crunchy, meat-like soybean cake tempeh.
A more modest version of the rijsttafel, the nasi lemak combination, holds satay, chicken curry, a chile sambal-topped egg and crisp dried anchovies, which is about as close to Indonesian food stall eating as you can get.
Authenticity seekers may order stinky pete beans, or es cendol, a palm sugar-sweetened drink of coconut milk afloat with green tapioca squiggles, or a whole young coconut from which you drink the liquid and eat the gelatinous meat.
On the other hand, this is also Surfer Dude Country, so ice-blended mochas may also be had with your Indonesian food.
-- Linda Burum
