After breakfast, I set off in search of the Babi Guling roasting house. Yesterday, Agun had pointed to a sign about 100m down the road from the restaurant, whereupon I was to turn right. I located the spot and made my way in. Typical of Balinese housing there were a string of buildings surrounding a central courtyard. Designed to accommodate a number of families, this compound was also designed to house noisy chickens and carpenters. I was directed to the far left corner of the compound. Eventually I spotted the pigs on open spits. My first reaction as I approached was “yum”! The second was shock at the almost intolerable searing heat, like a hot burn against my face. How some of the men roasting managed barefoot I knew not. Agun wasn’t there but with typical Balinese hospitality, I was made to feel welcome, even being permitted to turn the handle on the pigs as well as indulge in some taste testing, hot off the spit! Fresh and sizzling, it tasted even better than yesterday; the meat succulent and juicy, the crackling so crisp it could easily have snapped in two. Here are some memories that I’d like to share.

And some videos that I have posted on YouTube:

Roasting the suckling pig at Babi Guling
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=VKk6TVmLpR8

Removing the spit from the roast suckling pig
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Us4jb7nXnKI

Pork Crackling for me
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=U_UQOiN6NrE

Piggy off to market
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=RjJAV8An4q8

Another Related Story

Babi guling Ibu Oka

After doing the boat crossing from Java to Bali late yesterday afternoon, I headed straight for the heart of its cultural pulse, a town called Ubud. I liked it immediately. I slept in a quaintly decorated Balinese room with a four-poster bed (under the mandatory mosquito net) and showered in an open air bathroom with the sun streaming on my face. I was then served breakfast on my own little front porch by a man in traditional dress. What was there not to like?

Despite having had breakfast, by 11.30 I was hungry again. Must be all the fresh air, and although it was still hot, the temperatures were tempered by a nice cool breeze. I placated my grumbling stomach with a short-term fix of an ice-cream cone and headed off in the direction of the markets to look for lunch, whereupon I stumbled upon Babi Guling Ibu Oka. Babi guling translates as roast suckling pig, a Balinese specialty, which from my reading of Bali was a must try. This and the fact that it was barely 11.45 and the place was virtually packed with a throng of people queuing to be served told me I was onto a winner. I spotted a seat and settled in. It was a simple place; communal seating, plastic chairs, cutlery in “serve yourself” plastic containers, but buzzy with the hum of the crowd.

Inside Babi Guling Ibu Oka

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After declaring that I would never catch another Indonesian long distance mini-bus following my hair raising experience from Bandung to Yogyakarta, I found myself on another 11 hour journey yesterday, once again manned by a kamikaze driver in a vehicle with poorly-working air conditioning in the searing Indonesian heat. Regaled by stories about the beauty of Gunung Bromo (Bromo Volcano) and hungry for more adventure, I had decided to detour from my original plan of flying straight to Bali and made a pit stop to Bromo instead.

Mount Bromo and Semeru

Starting with a 3.30am wake up call to watch the sunrise, it was a truly spectacular view. Java is dotted with volcanos and Gunung Bromo is one of its most famous. The object of many postcards, it is flanked by volcanoes on either side, with Java’s most active volcano and highest point at 3,676m, Gunung Semeru, also towering in the distance. Occasionally tempestuous, Gunung Semeru is known to occasionally billow puffs of smoke to complete the postcard setting.

Gunung Bromo (Bromo Volcano)

We trekked afterwards to the crater’s rim and arrived back at the hotel at 8.30am for breakfast. I had nasi goreng (fried rice) and fried egg, which had been a pretty standard breakfast choice in the hotels I’d stayed at to date. Typically, other options have also included eggs and toast. It was a simple breakfast, but there was something about waking up at the crack of dawn, braving the freezing cold that is common in places of altitude, to take in amazing views of the sun rising over the volcanoes that made a simple breakfast that much more enjoyable.

This was my last breakfast in Java. Next stop, Bali.

On the streets of Yogjakarta

My health restored to full strength today after my stomach virus, I felt like a phoenix. Reborn anew, I was once again keen to engage in the role of foodie discoverer. Having befriended an intrepid Canadian explorer yesterday on the tour bus (she once travelled continuously for two and a half years), we decided to set off together in search of our dinner. With me at the helm, and my newly found friend in tow, we headed off to navigate the minefield of shops, curio stalls, warungs (food vendors on mobile carts), pedestrians and traffic that was law of the land on Yogyakarta’s high street, Marlioboro.

Lumpia ayam (chicken spring rolls)

The warungs on Marlioboro offer up all sorts of Indonesian food including the standard Indonesian fare; curries, sates, noodle and rice dishes. Some vendors cooked to order, but as was quite typical in Indonesia, there were also a number of warungs that served pre-cooked dishes. Chillies act as a preserving agent, thereby allowing Indonesian dishes to be pre-cooked and served throughout the day.

With so much choice, we finally settled on lumpia ayam (chicken spring rolls) (about 10p each). Plump full with an abundance of finely shredded chicken, it was served piping hot from the deep fryer and drizzled with a sweet chilli garlic sauce. The sauce was delicately sweet and the garlic added great zing to the spring roll which was so delicious I couldn’t stop at just one.

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I’m of the belief that the only way to kill a stomach bug is to starve it as much as possible. This seemed to have held me in reasonably good stead when I backpacked South America for five months. However, starving the bug means starving me, and I couldn’t decide which was worse – enduring the discomfort that comes from bathroom woes, especially with third world toilet facilities, or enduring the pain that comes from not eating, for I truly love to eat. However I tried to commiserate myself, searching high and low for that silver lining. “You’ll lose weight”, I told myself. “You’ll look better trying to squeeze into that bikini on Kuta Beach.”

True to my word, in the last 24 hours or so, I had subsisted on only one chocolate cookie, one packet of crisps, two coffees and two deep fried banana cakes topped with shredded processed cheese which I devoured this morning at the Buddhist temple, Borobudur. Having had a 3:30am start this morning to catch the sunrise at one of the most-visited tourist attractions in Indonesia, I was absolutely famished. I thought the cakes rather tasty, even if the cheese was a little rubbery. One of my Swiss travelling companions wasn’t too impressed however, so perhaps my taste buds had been tarnished due to my recent food deprivation.

After Borobudur, we visited another famous Yogyakartan temple, Prambanan. On the way back from our tour, I asked my tour guide about a matter which had been perplexing me over the last week. Why was it that every time I tried to book accommodation, the standard response had always been “sorry missus, we’re full”, even if the hotel wasn’t in fact full. As an example, I told him about how when I checked into my hotel in Jakarta, I tried to extend my stay beyond the one night that I had booked, to only be told, “Sorry missus, we’re full”. Thinking this implausible in a hotel with several hundred rooms, I made my way to the internet cafe, whereupon I was able to make the reservation online instead. My guide had no explanation. “See Mister, like me, not full”.