My sister and her friend left early for a day of white-water rafting and quadbiking in the jungle. I lounged around, worked on the blog a bit, went to the Yoga Barn for a 'Gentle Yoga' class late morning. It was gentle, but because I don't practice, getting into and/or holding some of the positions was hard! Haha. I found out what bolsters are for, though, and used one this time. Much more comfortable! Makes it easier to sit upright. As with meditation, part of me would like to build up a habit of daily yoga practice, even if it's just five or ten minutes of simple stretches when I wake up or go to bed.
I'd booked onto a cooking class for the afternoon, with Periuk Bali. I was picked up from the hotel at 2:30pm and taken to a family compound just outside Ubud, where we were met by a young woman named Wayan, who got us back into the vans and took us to the nearby rice paddies, where she explained the traditional system. Fields are owned by families, and there are little shrines dotted about in the corners of some to mark the boundaries, essentially. They practice crop rotation, otherwise the waterlogged soil would lose its nutrients and rice would eventually not grow. So they grow rice one year, then dry the fields and grow root vegetables the next year, then do rice again, and so on. Seeds are planted in a top corner of the field, then when they've grown a certain amount they're moved into the field itself, and water is let through. Wayan told us a lot more than that, but I can't really remember it. It was interesting, though, and it was nice to be somewhere rural for ten minutes, see some lush green fields.
Back at the compound, Wayan's father, also named Wayan, came out to greet us and gave a little talk about some aspects of Balinese culture, particularly the traditional family compound. Traditional compounds have an outside wall, and have a number of small buildings within the walls, linked by paths - bedrooms/living spaces for different members of the family, a kitchen or two, an open one generally in the centre. There generally aren't dining rooms, people just bring their food out and sit on the steps of one of these little buildings. We were also given "herbal tea", a very refreshing and absolutely delicious iced drink made from ginger, lemongrass, cinnamon, and black tea (apparently, anyway - I couldn't detect a tea taste, happily), finished off with a little honey and a squeeze of lime. Definitely making that at home! Might leave out the tea, though...
A side note on Balinese names. Most Balinese, though not all, are named according to the order in which they are born, and regardless of gender. The firstborn is called Wayan ("why-an"), second Made ("mah-day"), third Nyoman, and fourth Ketut. If there's a fifth, the cycle would start again and there would be two siblings named Wayan. These days couples are restricted to only having one or two children, I can't remember which, so that isn't really a thing anymore. The Balinese also don't have such things as shared family names. They might have a name, instead of or in addition to the traditional first/second/third/fourth, which indicates the caste, or social class, they belong to. They might be given a second or third Hindu name. They might use a nickname. And when using their full names they add a prefix to indicate gender: "I" for men and "Ni" for women. It seems complicated, but isn't too hard to understand I guess, and it works for them.
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| Wedding decorations at the compound opposite |
I'd booked onto a cooking class for the afternoon, with Periuk Bali. I was picked up from the hotel at 2:30pm and taken to a family compound just outside Ubud, where we were met by a young woman named Wayan, who got us back into the vans and took us to the nearby rice paddies, where she explained the traditional system. Fields are owned by families, and there are little shrines dotted about in the corners of some to mark the boundaries, essentially. They practice crop rotation, otherwise the waterlogged soil would lose its nutrients and rice would eventually not grow. So they grow rice one year, then dry the fields and grow root vegetables the next year, then do rice again, and so on. Seeds are planted in a top corner of the field, then when they've grown a certain amount they're moved into the field itself, and water is let through. Wayan told us a lot more than that, but I can't really remember it. It was interesting, though, and it was nice to be somewhere rural for ten minutes, see some lush green fields.
Back at the compound, Wayan's father, also named Wayan, came out to greet us and gave a little talk about some aspects of Balinese culture, particularly the traditional family compound. Traditional compounds have an outside wall, and have a number of small buildings within the walls, linked by paths - bedrooms/living spaces for different members of the family, a kitchen or two, an open one generally in the centre. There generally aren't dining rooms, people just bring their food out and sit on the steps of one of these little buildings. We were also given "herbal tea", a very refreshing and absolutely delicious iced drink made from ginger, lemongrass, cinnamon, and black tea (apparently, anyway - I couldn't detect a tea taste, happily), finished off with a little honey and a squeeze of lime. Definitely making that at home! Might leave out the tea, though...
A side note on Balinese names. Most Balinese, though not all, are named according to the order in which they are born, and regardless of gender. The firstborn is called Wayan ("why-an"), second Made ("mah-day"), third Nyoman, and fourth Ketut. If there's a fifth, the cycle would start again and there would be two siblings named Wayan. These days couples are restricted to only having one or two children, I can't remember which, so that isn't really a thing anymore. The Balinese also don't have such things as shared family names. They might have a name, instead of or in addition to the traditional first/second/third/fourth, which indicates the caste, or social class, they belong to. They might be given a second or third Hindu name. They might use a nickname. And when using their full names they add a prefix to indicate gender: "I" for men and "Ni" for women. It seems complicated, but isn't too hard to understand I guess, and it works for them.
We were shown how to traditionally make coconut oil, which is the main oil used there. Basically you grate mature coconut (the ones with the dark brown husk), then in a bowl keep squeezing the pulp over and over, releasing the milk. You do this until you've got all the milk you possibly can out of the pulp, then leave the milk for 24 hours to separate. The cream will sink to the bottom, leaving the solidified oil sitting on top. It takes something like 20 coconuts to make one litre of oil. I wonder if people knew, were really aware, how much of something was used to make or do something, if they would use so much, take things for granted, be so wasteful.
After that demonstration we were taken to where the cooking class would take place in a specially-built area at the back of the compound. It was on the slope of the hill and faced out over the jungle-filled valley, which was misty and slightly drizzly. There was a raised dining area with a long table (there were twelve of us in the group), a prep area down a little set of stairs next to that with tables covered in baskets of great ingredients, and a cooking kitchen next to that. All open-air but under shelter. There was also a little shrine, and we were shown how to make the simplest of the numerous Balinese daily offerings, the little trays of flowers you see everywhere - on pavements outside a home or shop, on shrines in the street, in car windows. You make a little square tray out of a piece of dried palm leaf, then fill it with little flowers in four different colours, to represent four different Hindu gods, and put a pinch of shredded pandang leaf in the middle. There's something about symbolically offering mind, body, heart and soul to those four gods, too, or something like that, but I can't remember. The sacrifice for this offering is simply the time and effort taken to make it - although it's only women who do the making and offering, on behalf of themselves and the men in their family.
After a brief talk about what we would be making and the ingredients we'd be using, we were put into pairs and started chopping, crushing, grinding and bashing ingredients in massive pestle-and-mortars, for the pastes of the four sauces we'd be making: yellow curry sauce, peanut sauce, sweet chili sauce and spicy chili sauce.
After that demonstration we were taken to where the cooking class would take place in a specially-built area at the back of the compound. It was on the slope of the hill and faced out over the jungle-filled valley, which was misty and slightly drizzly. There was a raised dining area with a long table (there were twelve of us in the group), a prep area down a little set of stairs next to that with tables covered in baskets of great ingredients, and a cooking kitchen next to that. All open-air but under shelter. There was also a little shrine, and we were shown how to make the simplest of the numerous Balinese daily offerings, the little trays of flowers you see everywhere - on pavements outside a home or shop, on shrines in the street, in car windows. You make a little square tray out of a piece of dried palm leaf, then fill it with little flowers in four different colours, to represent four different Hindu gods, and put a pinch of shredded pandang leaf in the middle. There's something about symbolically offering mind, body, heart and soul to those four gods, too, or something like that, but I can't remember. The sacrifice for this offering is simply the time and effort taken to make it - although it's only women who do the making and offering, on behalf of themselves and the men in their family.
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| The shrine with our offerings on |
After a brief talk about what we would be making and the ingredients we'd be using, we were put into pairs and started chopping, crushing, grinding and bashing ingredients in massive pestle-and-mortars, for the pastes of the four sauces we'd be making: yellow curry sauce, peanut sauce, sweet chili sauce and spicy chili sauce.
I found out what that mystery ingredient with the nutty texture in the delicious yellow curry I'd had the previous evening was! Tempeh! Tofu is made from soybean milk, and tempeh is made from the solid beans, which are cooked, shaped into oblong patties or loaves and fermented. The end product can be sliced and you can see the whole beans. Like tofu, it's pretty tasteless itself so you have to use it with other things or have a sauce.
So, on the menu was:
- Sup ayam - Balinese chicken soup
- Sayur urab - Balinese vegetable salad
- Nasi putih - Steamed rice
- Sate tusuk ayam - Chicken satay
- Pepes ikan - Steamed fish in banana leaf
- Kari ayam - Balinese chicken curry
- Tempe manis - Deep fried tempeh in sweet soy sauce
- Dadar gulung - Rolled pancake with coconut and palm sugar
We didn't cook the rice ourselves, but Wayan's relative Made demonstrated and explained the traditional cooking method to us. It takes hours, as you have to soak, rinse, re-soak, re-rinse, cook, cook a second time... nowadays people just have rice cookers, it's much quicker and easier! It was great, the women not only showed/told us what to do but also explained things, so we learned about the culture and traditions and the ingredients we were using, too. There's a big culture of respect there and in many other places in Asia, which I think more Western, English-speaking cultures could learn from; they're just nice gestures. They call everyone auntie or uncle or sister or brother, and pass things to people with both hands a lot of the time, or at least the right hand. The left hand is considered unclean.
I've never made a curry paste, or any really decent sauce, from scratch before, which I want to change. I liked it, it was easier than I thought and I liked the kind of connection with the ingredients, the knowing exactly what the sauce contains and so having a slightly better understanding of the dish. I've only ever had curries using a sauce from a jar, or just shop-bought generic 'curry powder' with some water, or from a restaurant or takeaway where obviously I have no idea how it's been made. That doesn't really bother me, those things are perfectly tasty (well, not my version of the water-and-curry powder mix... but my dad used to be able to make it work), but I do like the idea of knowing how to make a paste, and therefore the whole dish, from scratch with fresh ingredients, as it would be so much better. That's true for a lot of things, there are lots of things I'd like to learn to make rather than buy...
After a couple of hours, when we in the group had done everything we could and there were just a few things left that only the women teaching us could do, we went up to the dining table and sat down. There was a long buffet table at one end of the room and they brought up all the dishes we'd made, so we could serve ourselves from the large bowls lined with banana leaves. First, though, they brought us individual bowls of the sup ayam, chicken soup, which was wonderful, full of these delicious flavours that were still new to me.
So, on the menu was:
- Sup ayam - Balinese chicken soup
- Sayur urab - Balinese vegetable salad
- Nasi putih - Steamed rice
- Sate tusuk ayam - Chicken satay
- Pepes ikan - Steamed fish in banana leaf
- Kari ayam - Balinese chicken curry
- Tempe manis - Deep fried tempeh in sweet soy sauce
- Dadar gulung - Rolled pancake with coconut and palm sugar
We didn't cook the rice ourselves, but Wayan's relative Made demonstrated and explained the traditional cooking method to us. It takes hours, as you have to soak, rinse, re-soak, re-rinse, cook, cook a second time... nowadays people just have rice cookers, it's much quicker and easier! It was great, the women not only showed/told us what to do but also explained things, so we learned about the culture and traditions and the ingredients we were using, too. There's a big culture of respect there and in many other places in Asia, which I think more Western, English-speaking cultures could learn from; they're just nice gestures. They call everyone auntie or uncle or sister or brother, and pass things to people with both hands a lot of the time, or at least the right hand. The left hand is considered unclean.
I've never made a curry paste, or any really decent sauce, from scratch before, which I want to change. I liked it, it was easier than I thought and I liked the kind of connection with the ingredients, the knowing exactly what the sauce contains and so having a slightly better understanding of the dish. I've only ever had curries using a sauce from a jar, or just shop-bought generic 'curry powder' with some water, or from a restaurant or takeaway where obviously I have no idea how it's been made. That doesn't really bother me, those things are perfectly tasty (well, not my version of the water-and-curry powder mix... but my dad used to be able to make it work), but I do like the idea of knowing how to make a paste, and therefore the whole dish, from scratch with fresh ingredients, as it would be so much better. That's true for a lot of things, there are lots of things I'd like to learn to make rather than buy...
After a couple of hours, when we in the group had done everything we could and there were just a few things left that only the women teaching us could do, we went up to the dining table and sat down. There was a long buffet table at one end of the room and they brought up all the dishes we'd made, so we could serve ourselves from the large bowls lined with banana leaves. First, though, they brought us individual bowls of the sup ayam, chicken soup, which was wonderful, full of these delicious flavours that were still new to me.
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| Taken at the end of prep... I thought I took a photo of what we were served but must not have pressed the button hard enough! |
Dessert was a pancake, the batter coloured green with pandang leaves, filled with a mixture of coconut and palm sugar. Ohhh, it was so good! Really yummy. We were served two each, on a plate decorated with a smiley face made from some lovely sweet sauce. Come to think of it, perhaps it was a caramel made from palm sugar... Palm sugar is delicious in itself. You buy it in solid little blocks which are dark brown in colour, and you have to shave or grate bits off to use. It's intensely sweet, and has a slightly different flavour to the brown sugar we're used to.
We had time to linger at the table and chat for a while after finishing eating. I had chosen a seat at one end of the table before most other people had sat down and ended up being surrounded with the other young people in the group, a few couples; all Brits in their late twenties/early thirties, but I couldn't join in the conversation and they didn't try to include me. I always find it easier to join in with older people, but they were at the other end of the table. So I sat in silence, looking past the people opposite me to the plants behind them and the darkness of the valley beyond that. I've gotten more used to this kind of thing over the years, but it's never comfortable. So it was with some relief for me when 7:30pm arrived, it was time to go and we were taken back to our hotels.
Well I'm quite surprised at how long this post has turned out to be, haha! I very much enjoyed the cooking class, it was a very very good one, run by instinctive cooks who know the food from a lifetime of cooking in their own home for their family, and which had other interesting aspects apart from the actual cooking. And of course the food was amazing. We were given the recipes, so I'll definitely be giving some of them a go at home!
We had time to linger at the table and chat for a while after finishing eating. I had chosen a seat at one end of the table before most other people had sat down and ended up being surrounded with the other young people in the group, a few couples; all Brits in their late twenties/early thirties, but I couldn't join in the conversation and they didn't try to include me. I always find it easier to join in with older people, but they were at the other end of the table. So I sat in silence, looking past the people opposite me to the plants behind them and the darkness of the valley beyond that. I've gotten more used to this kind of thing over the years, but it's never comfortable. So it was with some relief for me when 7:30pm arrived, it was time to go and we were taken back to our hotels.
Well I'm quite surprised at how long this post has turned out to be, haha! I very much enjoyed the cooking class, it was a very very good one, run by instinctive cooks who know the food from a lifetime of cooking in their own home for their family, and which had other interesting aspects apart from the actual cooking. And of course the food was amazing. We were given the recipes, so I'll definitely be giving some of them a go at home!
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