https://chikakusumahadi.com Chiquita Kusumahadi Sun, 28 Jul 2024 22:16:27 +0000 https://chikakusumahadi.com en https://chikakusumahadi.com/Home Mon, 19 Oct 2020 15:18:31 +0000 Chiquita Kusumahadi https://chikakusumahadi.com/Home (Chika) is a London-based, Indonesian designer/writer building stories and visual identities for food and culture.&nbsp;She holds an MA in Arts and Cultural Management from King’s College London&nbsp;and a BA in Graphic Communication Design from Central Saint Martins.&nbsp; WORKS&nbsp;✏️ 🥐 Rebranding for a quirky bakery2021-2023<img width="1772" height="1045" width_o="1772" height_o="1045" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1ea90931db0953198ae46fc40ab6966676d5e3b8bfb0ee78e54b8e6c92f9ab1f/Weirdough_WebsitePorto-02.png" data-mid="104193244" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1ea90931db0953198ae46fc40ab6966676d5e3b8bfb0ee78e54b8e6c92f9ab1f/Weirdough_WebsitePorto-02.png" /> 🍜 Identity for a Southeast Asian food magazine2022📙 Tete-a-beché architecture book2022🍰 Micro bakeshop (@boredom_bakery)2020–2022<img width="2640" height="2639" width_o="2640" height_o="2639" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/315b5742c6623e9fd5b1f981d8cfcfd8c7a8121f4c16d77691506495981c149b/Untitled-1.png" data-mid="140181967" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/315b5742c6623e9fd5b1f981d8cfcfd8c7a8121f4c16d77691506495981c149b/Untitled-1.png" />💧Internal campaign for a global water brand2022 ☕️&nbsp;Retail design for an artisanal coffee brand2020<img width="1512" height="2016" width_o="1512" height_o="2016" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/386a2f446de567f82a6931c7e64a1b2e7be0068bd4cfaf511bb32c8baecf5be9/IMG_0387.jpg" data-mid="104192855" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/386a2f446de567f82a6931c7e64a1b2e7be0068bd4cfaf511bb32c8baecf5be9/IMG_0387.jpg" /> 🌱 Banana leaf packaging&nbsp;2019 <img width="4288" height="2848" width_o="4288" height_o="2848" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9325c0053dc2b1b3fd863c3b09f6be01ac2bdf1b1999ace37bdd3a44db55d037/DSC_3121.png" data-mid="86050488" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9325c0053dc2b1b3fd863c3b09f6be01ac2bdf1b1999ace37bdd3a44db55d037/DSC_3121.png" />🍽&nbsp;Dystopian dining experience2018<img width="1000" height="1500" width_o="1000" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/65584423bb706a5d93f8637198c90bd892551164577ceab340c4da8e2d9caa95/IMG_1484.jpg" data-mid="86050981" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/65584423bb706a5d93f8637198c90bd892551164577ceab340c4da8e2d9caa95/IMG_1484.jpg" /> <img width="348" height="499" width_o="348" height_o="499" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b09b6043815655786fe427662cf58e2f3fe2624261ba38e3fc23c481e4c502b9/89377035-2b4d-46b3-b743-ba3cb47de63c.png" data-mid="155365427" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/348/i/b09b6043815655786fe427662cf58e2f3fe2624261ba38e3fc23c481e4c502b9/89377035-2b4d-46b3-b743-ba3cb47de63c.png" /> WORDS&nbsp;🖊 🍬 Unwrapping Identity: Vernacular Food Packaging in Indonesia2025 🌾 Rijsttafel: Feasting in the Dutch East Indies2023/24 🍄 Fungal Encounters2022 🐓️ The Urban Chicken2022 <img width="4288" height="2848" width_o="4288" height_o="2848" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8700db664be86066596dd80c107f2d108931e8fa6ea6b21c0150e57284690024/DSC_0583-copy.JPG" data-mid="86154897" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8700db664be86066596dd80c107f2d108931e8fa6ea6b21c0150e57284690024/DSC_0583-copy.JPG" /> 🌴&nbsp;The Past Is New and the Future Is Too2020 She has worked with businesses and institutions in Asia and the UK including Japan House LondonUK, Bompas &amp; ParrUK, Calouste Gulbenkian FoundationUK,&nbsp;PHM HotelsID, Suburbia ProjectsMY, Asia Center Japan FoundationMY, Further Reading PressID and Food Design Nation.&nbsp;Past works have been published in Graphic Design School (Thames &amp; Hudson). Chika has also taken part in Jakarta Art Book FairID, Business of Design Week 2020HK, Tate ExchangeUK,<img width="1169" height="781" width_o="1169" height_o="781" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/28fcf53d40d1e72315070215fe9d7fa5b9920ebd788774a2290d52b25aa83314/MiC1-copy.png" data-mid="86167937" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/28fcf53d40d1e72315070215fe9d7fa5b9920ebd788774a2290d52b25aa83314/MiC1-copy.png" /> D&amp;ADUK and Arch:IDID.&nbsp;She is certified in Level 2 HACCP Food Safety &amp; Hygiene. &nbsp; Portfolio available upon request&nbsp;🫱🏼‍🫲🏽: chikakusumahadi@gmail.comE / @chikakusumahadiIG https://chikakusumahadi.com/Rijsttafel Sun, 28 Jul 2024 21:12:32 +0000 Chiquita Kusumahadi https://chikakusumahadi.com/Rijsttafel SERVING SUGGESTION NO.2 | FURTHER READING PRESS 🌾 Rijsttafel: Feasting in the Dutch East Indies A history of colonialism, migration, and trade has made Southeast Asia a meeting point for various cultures. Against global flows, culture is exchanged, negotiated and translated. This piece is the first of FOODWAYS, a series highlighting the region’s plates; reflecting on its past and what this means for present-day traditions. Eating with a spoon is second nature to us Indonesians—the first being the use of our right hand1. I never gave this much thought until I found myself struggling to eat rice with a fork at a dinner party in London. Centuries of interaction with various cultures—thanks in part to the Asian spice trade—have encouraged Indonesians to retain traditions while accommodating foreign influences. Various practices introduced by way of colonialism have been localised and embedded into the nation’s everyday, whether or not we realise it. Likewise, aspects of Nusantara2 food culture have seeped into that of its colonisers, notably the rijsttafel. Harvests of ColonialismIn the 17th century, the Dutch East India Company (VOC) established itself in Batavia (now Jakarta) and set up plantations in an effort to monopolise the spice trade. When VOC fell into bankruptcy in 1796, its geographic assets were nationalised as the Dutch East Indies’ (now Indonesia). The Netherlands proceeded to expand its territory across the archipelago until Indonesia’s eventual independence in 1945. As with most colonial narratives, the East Indies were seen as primitive, and food systems were heavily subject to development efforts. Faced with financial difficulties after the Javanese war3, Dutch authorities implemented cultuurstelsel (cultivation system) which was locally known as tanam paksa (forced planting). During this time, ingredients were harvested at the great expense of civilian rights—a stark contrast to the exciting period in European food culture, as ingredients from the East made their way to the West. Between 1830–1870, villages had to allocate a portion of land for planting popular export commodities such as sugarcane, coffee and tea. While this was tax-exempt, the areas where locals lived or grew their crops were heavily taxed. Cultuurstelsel forced thousands into famine and exploitative labour conditions, but it laid the groundwork for Indonesia’s agricultural system. Rice cultivation in Java is rooted in spirituality, with the prosperity of crops intimately linked to communal rituals like slametan. During slametan, the entire village community comes together to prepare and eat various dishes made with ingredients from the harvest. The ritual adopts different names across the island but is performed to express gratitude and prevent unfavourable harvests. For the Dutch, it was an opportunity to sample diverse culinary offerings of the archipelago; from indigenous delicacies to dishes influenced by minority groups such as Chinese migrants. Efforts to elevate local life soon made their way into the dining space. The Rice Table Rijsttafel (rice table) is a colonial take on feasting traditions that emerged from these plantations which grew popular among Europeans in the latter half of the 19th century. According to food historian Fadly Rahman, the practice began when Dutch officers stationed in Indonesia wedded local women, resulting in a mixed lifestyle and generation known as Indo. Rijsttafel featured Nusantara classics like beef rendang, ayam goreng (fried chicken), and gado-gado (boiled vegetables with peanut sauce). It was common to have anywhere between a dozen up to 60 varieties of menu served in the rijsttafel. All these were prepared by personal cooks and served by a legion of jongos (male servants), usually local plantation workers who were purchased at a low cost and then trained. Each dish was plated separately and served family-style, but unlike slametan, the etiquette is undeniably European. Diners sat at a clothed table where plates and silverware lay. In lieu of a knife, a spoon was used to scoop up rice in the right hand, accompanied by a fork in the left. Since many Indonesian dishes involve slow cooking, tender meats can be cut with a spoon and are suitable to eat throughout the day, even after hours on the table. The table was also adorned with essential condiments; pickles, kerupuk (crackers) and various sambals. The more affluent the host, the more food served. Indigenous elites gradually adopted these table manners to acquaint themselves with Western customs. By the 1920s, the exotic rijsttafel became a hallmark of mooi indie4 tourism in establishments frequented by Europeans, like the Savoy Homann Hotel in Bandung. It was exported to the Netherlands soon after, where it remains. In 2015, rijsttafel was listed as a Dutch national heritage. A stroll through Amsterdam and you are sure to find restaurants serving rijsttafel, though most establishments today are run by the Chinese diaspora. This may explain the questionable inclusion of babi ketjap (braised soy sauce pork) in the menus—rarely found in Indonesia due to its predominantly Muslim population. Many Indische5 families had a book filled with renditions of their favourite East Indies recipes. For second generations like Monique Kampschuur, the family cookbook is an heirloom and a testament to her identity. After the Indonesian independence, her father was among many forced to return to the Netherlands for the first time. He rebuilt his life in The Hague where most repatriates settled, forming a sizable Indische and Indonesian community. Today his experiences live on through Kampschuur’s dining club Tante Pop, where she serves up Indische-style Indonesian dishes from her father’s cookbook. The Flamboyant Table Nowadays it is extremely rare to find rijsttafel in Indonesia. Since the dishes are staples at home and local eateries, rijsttafel is considered an overpriced novelty reserved for foreigners. According to Elia Nurvista, artist and founder of Bakudapan, Indonesia’s first president, Soekarno, wholly rejected its opulence in the post-independence era. ‘The distinguishing element of rijsttafel is the presentation. The food itself is pretty mundane’, she highlighted. Even so, the Indonesian Embassy in the UK still hosts rijsttafel banquets for its guests of honour as a way to showcase the nation’s diverse cuisine in a formal setting. In 2014, Nurvista hosted her own banquet with Dutch curator Nat Muller at the Delfina Foundation in London. Rijsttafel: The Flamboyant Table presents a feast involving Indonesian diaspora students who posed as jongos. The catch? 30 different dishes and mounds of rice were piled straight onto a long table. Guests including Kartika Soekarno, daughter of President Soekarno, proceeded to dine without cutlery and tableware. Nurvista’s dinner juxtaposed feelings of indulgence with shame, provoking discussions on post-colonial narratives and power dynamics. While the tradition has evolved over time and is now primarily found outside of Indonesia, rijsttafel continues to serve as a reminder of the intricate relationships between food, identity, and the legacies of colonialism. The recent preservation and commercialisation of rijsttafel in the Netherlands also raises questions of authenticity. What initially represented opulence and oppression has transformed into a shared cultural identity, inviting us to reconsider the significance of a meal beyond its culinary delights. FOOTNOTES 1. Indonesian culture, largely influenced by Muslim and Hindu beliefs, considers the left hand to be used for personal hygiene. Therefore, food should be eaten with the ‘clean’ right hand. 2.&nbsp;The concept of Nusantara alludes to the collective cultural identity of the Indonesian archipelago. 3. The Java War led by Prince Diponegoro occurred between 1825–1830 in Central Java. Motivated by deepening socio-economic concerns, the war was considered one of the turning points in Javanese political history. It resulted in the defeat and death of more than 200,000 Javanese. 4. The term ‘beautiful Indies’ emerged in the 19th century and is used to refer to a naturalistic, romanticised portrayal of rural Indonesia that was popular with the European community then. Sufferings like tanam paksa were omitted and rural life was abundant and harmonious–a representation heavily criticised by Indonesian artists like S. Sudjojono. 5. The term ‘indische’ usually refers to Dutch or Indo-Europeans who had established long-term residency in the East Indies. https://chikakusumahadi.com/Fungal-Encounters Sun, 28 Jul 2024 21:49:46 +0000 Chiquita Kusumahadi https://chikakusumahadi.com/Fungal-Encounters SERVING SUGGESTION NO.1 | FURTHER READING PRESS 🍄 Fungal Encounters Those in search of mushrooms know how elusive they can be. No, we’re not talking about the psychedelic kind, but the kind that is wild, woody, and quite often tasty. As a nation with one of the richest biodiversity in the world, the Indonesian mycology scene is vast but largely understudied. Recently, a community of Indonesians who are enthusiastic about mushrooms are spreading its spores across the nation. Fungi typically grows in dense forests; under rocks or over rotting logs, but it can appear in the most curious of places, even on a clump of wet laundry. In Indonesia, mushroom hunting mainly happens during the wet season between September through March, where humidity levels are high. The growth of these temperamental decomposers are triggered by a series of climatic factors, meaning it takes a lot more than proper humidity for them to thrive. Because they are short-lived, searching for wild mushrooms can be likened to a treasure hunt—which usually begins just before the sun rises. A late start and the insects and animals will beat you to it. While life cycle varies between species, most mushrooms, especially ones growing in high-traffic areas, have a very short lifespan. For Semarang-based educator and urban forager Ferry Agustinus, unpredictability is part of the chase. ‘I often hunt for mushrooms around my house. Initially I did not think they could grow in the city, but I’ve found a few [mushrooms] around my neighborhood, even the infamous termitomyces1.’&nbsp; Most Indonesians’ knowledge of mushrooms is limited to commercially cultivated ones like button, oysters, or enokis. Academically, only a small fraction of mushrooms in Indonesia has been identified. It was this shortage in data that prompted Khalid Hafazallah to start the Indonesian Mushroom Hunters Community Facebook page with his lecturer during his time as an agroforestry student at Institut Pertanian Bogor (IPB). ‘There are lots we do not know about Indonesian mycology, so we hope to expand our shared resources through this group’, he explains. Now six years on, the group has over 34,000 members; many of whom had started foraging during the COVID-19 pandemic. ‘It’s difficult to encounter mushrooms when you work 9 to 5, so the pandemic actually carved a space for this activity and its community’, Ferry, who is a moderator in the group, shares. A little scrolling reveals the diversity of content and camaraderie of its members; from hobbyists to mycologists. One of them is Aisha Kusumasomantri, a lecturer at the School of Social and Political Science at University of Indonesia (FISIP UI) who rekindled her childhood interest in fungi. Now with a family of her own, she documents her excursions on her YouTube channel Woods After the Rain. Aisha sees the Indonesian Mushroom Hunters Community as an accompaniment to her foraging routine. ‘If in doubt, I can always ask the community to help identify [the type of mushroom]’, she says. When talking about foraging in terms of survival, mushrooms are usually the last resort because they have a lot of look-alikes. ‘There isn’t a sure-fire way of telling which is edible, so you have to put effort into learning about them’, according to Aisha. The question of ‘is it edible?’ is frequently asked. To avoid the risk of misidentification and prevent poisoning accidents, the community has a collective record, and advises those starting out to be cautious. To date, they have identified 20 common types of wild mushrooms in Indonesia. ‘We’ve had cases where people accidentally eat poisonous mushrooms because they did not fact-check, so we highly encourage people to document and share their finds.’ For ones that are edible, seasoned foragers agree that the best way to bring out flavor is to lightly sautée in oil or butter. This is called a basic taste test. Scroll further down the Facebook page and you can find some tasty dishes cooked with foraged finds. Stir-fried, in soup, or with noodles, these are just some ways members of the community show off their culinary creativity. Personally, Aisha steers away from deep-frying her finds because it dampens the taste. A crowd favorite is the termitomyces, which has a deep umami taste. The rarity of this mushroom along with the fact that no one has been able to commercially cultivate it gives the hunter an added satisfaction when they finally do encounter it. Along with mycologist Ivan Permana Putra, Ferry has even gone on to write a journal on&nbsp; titled ‘Termitomyces di Kawasan Urban Kecamatan Gunungpati, Kota Semarang, Jawa Tengah (Termitomyces of the Urban Area of Gunungpati Subdistrict, Semarang City, Central Java)’. It may seem daunting to people without a biology background, but self-taught foragers simply credit time as an essential tool of the trade. The pandemic has shifted our interaction with the natural environment and as more urban dwellers look towards outdoor experiences that engage and nurture the senses, it is likely that mushroom hunting is here to stay. A Brief Guide to Wild Mushrooms Mushrooms are likely to be found growing in mountains and forests. In cities, look for pockets of green that are less likely to be polluted (e.g. gardens and parks). Use a small knife to pick out mushrooms and a brush to dust off dirt. Bring some gloves and sanitiser to keep hands clean. Poison can’t be measured by shape or taste. Look for common traits of edible mushrooms; soft, jelly-like textures are usually low-risk. Collect mushrooms in a basket or container with gaps, to allow the spores to fall on to the ground and encourage re-growth. Keep different types of mushrooms apart to avoid cross contamination in case one is found to be inedible. Be mindful by taking just enough. Try to not take more than 300 grams at a time. Afterwards, you might also want to make a spore print. Cut the stalk off a freshly picked mushroom and place the gill side down on a sheet of dark and white paper. Cover with a glass or bowl and leave for a few hours. If spores are brown, avoid eating them. Rinse with water before cooking and consuming to get rid of dirt or possible animal excretes that it might have come in contact with. FOOTNOTES 1. Termitomyces is a genus of edible mushrooms commonly found in Asia and Africa that grow in symbiosis with termites, well-known for their nutritional and medicinal value as well as great taste. https://chikakusumahadi.com/Urban-Chicken Sun, 28 Jul 2024 22:03:23 +0000 Chiquita Kusumahadi https://chikakusumahadi.com/Urban-Chicken LAZY SUSAN 🐓️ The Urban Chicken As one of the top meats consumed in Indonesia, chicken is deeply rooted in Indonesian culture. Every region in Indonesia has its own specialty chicken dish; Soto Ayam Ambengan from Surabaya, Ayam Taliwang from Lombok, Ayam Woku from Manado, and the ever popular Ayam Pop from West Sumatra to name a few. The mainstream market in Indonesia offers a few types of chicken for consumption with the top two being local free-range chicken (ayam kampung) and broiler chicken (ayam negeri). A quick Google search for the former and suggestions such as ‘healthy’ and ‘nutritious’ are among the top results. Now do the same for the latter, and you will see how one word makes all the difference. The previously positive tone of the search results is quickly refreshed with words such as ‘risk’, ‘danger’ and ‘quality’. In the pursuit of good chicken, this ever-popular poultry unites, but it can also divide. My parents are firm believers of ayam kampung, a preference they credit to their upbringing. They grew up in a small town in East Java during a time where ayam kampung is commonly served and ayam negeri was rumoured to be hormone enhanced. Even after spending more than half their life in the capital, they remain loyal to ayam kampung, always choosing to opt-out of broiler chicken dishes in restaurants. My sister and I, however, do not share the same sentiment. Growing up in Jakarta in the early 2000s, I attended plenty of birthday parties at KFC or McDonald’s. I remember the excitement of going to these parties, since it was one of the rare moments where I could eat ‘American’ fried chicken. If my parents’ relationship with broiler chicken can be compared to someone who pledged sobriety, mine would be that of a social drinker. At first glance, it may be hard to tell the two chickens apart besides its obvious difference in price. Ayam negeri is known for being plump and tender, with a lighter pinkish-white colouring. The meat is thick yet chewy, thus easier to process and cook–a favourable trait for those who seek convenience. In contrast, ayam kampung is known for its firm, slightly tough meat quality with a darker colouring and savoury taste. Due to its diet, free-range breeding and longer lifespan, ayam kampung is higher in haemoglobin and iron despite being smaller in size. This seemingly unfavourable trait works to the advantage of Indonesian cuisine which often uses slow cooking methods like braising (ungkep) to incorporate flavour into a dish. Of course, other dishes are better suited with broiler chicken. Imagine if the Kentucky fried chicken known for its juicy, tender quality is replaced with ayam kampung. The long-standing rivalry between ayam kampung and ayam negeri as the “better” bird stems from the way they have been raised. For individual farmers, ayam kampung is more often the preferred breed to farm due to its low maintenance. Feed for these free-range birds often consist of ground corn or grains and is usually chemical-free. Farmers simply spread food in the yard, where the chicks are free to roam and feed themselves. On the other hand, the breeding of ayam negeri is highly efficient. These birds are raised specifically for meat production (pedaging) so they are intensively bred to promote rapid early growth. Unlike free-range, broiler breeding uses less space per bird which is why attentive care and enhanced chicken feed is needed in order to produce and maintain quality meat. The low mobility of ayam negeri means they have a lower Food Conversion Ratio (FCR) compared to ayam kampung, resulting in a faster production turnaround. In other words, these birds require less food to turn into meat and thus have a shorter lifespan. Ayam negeri is often the subject of controversy and health rumours due to its industrial breeding method. Among them are concerns about the birds’ quality of life and the practice of injecting hormones to promote rapid growth. In reality, the usage of hormones on chickens is no longer practised. Not only is hormone injection impractical and cost-inefficient, but it is also strictly prohibited by Indonesia’s health regulations. Instead, the birds are administered with spray vaccines and subject to routine monitoring programs by the Ministry of Agriculture to check for antibiotic residue. Despite this, the clouded reputation of broiler chicken remains. The respective names of these chickens might also reveal our underlying assumptions. The word kampung directly translates to village, so it is easy to associate it with frugality, locality and familiarity. Meanwhile, the word negeri alludes to the foreignness and unfamiliarity of a faraway land. The broiler chicken is a figure of modernisation and change. Its imported industrial practice is technology-oriented and relies on automated systems, so most producers of ayam negeri are large corporations supported by foreign investors. These so-called ‘integrators’ control the poultry industry from end to end. Today, 80% of the market is controlled by three major integrator companies and only 20% by independent farmers–many of which are struggling to stay afloat. This is why since 2019, multiple independent poultry farmer organisations have begun appealing to President Joko Widodo to issue a presidential regulation (Perpres) that will restrict integrator companies and protect the livelihood of independent farmers. The extensive presence of ayam negeri not only made waves in the local poultry industry but also in Indonesia’s culinary landscape. Ever since the first arrival of KFC in the ’80s, international fast-food chicken joints have quickly spread across the nation and become a symbol of modernity. Maybe in its early days the foreign appeal–from preparation to presentation–was a refreshing contrast to local ayam goreng and won our hearts, but over time the Western-style fried chicken has stayed relevant because it successfully assimilated with local flavours and carved a spot in the local culinary landscape. The ayam geprek boom is a case in point. The origins of this fusion dish are somewhat unclear, but it quickly gained popularity around 2017. Soon, Indonesia saw a rise in local geprek joints–one chain even went as far as opening outlets in a few South East Asian countries. Similar to the East Javanese dish ayam penyet, both dishes involve smashing a fried chicken with a pestle before roughly mixing it with sambal–usually with a customisable spice level. But while ayam penyet traditionally uses fried ayam kampung marinated in bumbu kuning (yellow spice paste), ayam geprek pairs an American-style fried chicken with popular sambal such as sambal matah or sambal bawang. Further Western influence can be seen with recent menus offering mozzarella cheese topping alongside the usual rice or indomie side-dish. Before the rise of ayam geprek, fast-food giants have released local fusion menus (e.g. Mc Donald’s ayam gulai and KFC’s sambal nusantara), but none have sustained and matched the popularity of ayam geprek. The nationwide success of ayam geprek proved the versatility of Western fried chicken and further localised ayam negeri to the Indonesian masses. We Indonesians love a good chicken dish but our relationship with the chicken industry is complicated. In an increasingly fast-paced society, ayam negeri seems like an obvious pick, but with the recent rise in green living, many of those living in urban areas are shifting towards the organic ayam kampung. All the while, ayam negeri is threatening the livelihood of independent farmers’, but it is also the solution for those of us looking for an affordable source of protein. Both types of chicken have their own merits, so the choice of one over the other is situational. Ultimately, our differences reveal the values and struggles of our current world and how we might overcome them. Rather than battling over the “better” bird, maybe we are better off focusing on how to reconcile the two sides, just as we did with the fusion of ayam geprek. https://chikakusumahadi.com/FR2 Sun, 28 Jul 2024 22:16:27 +0000 Chiquita Kusumahadi https://chikakusumahadi.com/FR2 FURTHER READING PRINT NO.2: BOUNDARIES | FURTHER READING PRESS 🌴 The Past is New and the Future is Too As part of a generation who has experienced growing up with both analog rituals and digital screens, I often find myself at a crossroad between the nostalgia of the handmade and the convenience of the fabricated. So when I chanced upon the Japanese term ‘mingei’ after reading The Beauty of Everyday Things by Yanagi Soetsu, I quickly took interest in this early 20th century movement. Mingei—meaning folk arts—focuses on the overlooked beauty of utilitarian art and crafts made by ordinary people and is deeply rooted in everyday life. There are a few characteristics that define what mingei items can be. Among others, the object should represent the region in which it was produced but is usually not attributed to specific artisans. Mingei items arise naturally over time as a result of peoples’ needs so it should be inexpensive, simple and practical in design. Part of their charm comes from its actual usage. In his book, Yanagi goes on to explain how the modern landscape is becoming less interested in mingei despite it being a direct reflection of socio-cultural habits, perhaps because of its vernacular nature.&nbsp;“When one becomes too familiar with a sight, one loses the ability to truly see...for we did not possess the proper distance from these objects to see them for what they were; we were too taken up in simply living among them, too busy in creating them.”&nbsp;The sentiments Yanagi has towards mingei is universal. As I evaluated my own culture, I realised that I too, failed to recognise the value of Indonesian folk arts. While ornamental and performance arts such as the Javanese wayang or Balinese tari kecak is internationally recognised, Indonesian utilitarian crafts remain largely underappreciated. The abundance of trees in Indonesia’s tropical climate have allowed locals to devise multiple ways to use various parts of the plant for a plethora of purposes. It is large, water-repellant, pliable, durable and fragrant when briefly exposed to fire. Growing up in the island of Java, banana leaf containers have always been a common sight in my everyday culinary landscape; from the humble nasi bungkus (takeaway meals) and jajan pasar (traditional confectionery) to the more extravagant and celebratory Tumpeng (a tower of turmeric rice usually served with a variety of meat and vegetable sides). Like a well oiled machine, food vendors take sheets of leaves and fold them up before securing everything with a few bamboo pins, all in a matter of seconds. The style and size of leaf containers range from palm sized bowls to larger plates, each with its own name and function. For example, sudi is a small container with a coned center—similar to the shape of a Mexican sombrero—often used to hold Klepon, a glutinous rice ball snack with palm sugar and grated coconut. The cone at the center separates each rice ball and prevents it from sticking to one another. Though leaf containers are created to supplement the presentation of food, their variety and craftsmanship can be considered a form of Indonesian folk craft, as different regions across the archipelago have their own version of leaf containers intended for local purposes. It was only after moving abroad that I started to genuinely appreciate the ingenuity of banana leaves, which led to my dissertation project at Central Saint Martins called Future Folds (2019). I designed and printed custom templates displaying information and folding instructions onto fresh banana leaves that were then used in a workshop. Participants were asked to fold their own tableware with leaves I had printed on in order to obtain lunch. The project introduces the materiality of banana leaves not only as a cook’s ingredient but also as a utilitarian solution to packaging, encouraging discussions on how materials from the past can be used to design for the future. Unfortunately, the past 10 years have seen banana leaf containers being replaced by mass produced plastic tableware—some even ironically printed with leaf motifs—so younger generations are not as exposed to this craft or even worse, are unaware of its existence. It occurred to me how Indonesians are drifting away from natural resources once abundantly present in their everyday landscape. The ease in which we obtain our groceries have made us pickier about our choices, and the industry’s handling of food has created a hypocrisy where we grow even more detached and even disgusted by what we consume. In larger cities, encounters with traditional markets become increasingly limited along with the advancements of grocery shopping offered by both physical and virtual supermarkets. Additionally, the habitual use of plastic has subliminally obscured our views on cleanliness where natural materials are seen as lesser than. Though the ban on single use plastic is making its way throughout Indonesia, plastic remains strongly linked to ideas of convenience and modernisation, making it hard to let go of. I have come to appreciate ordinary encounters for they are insightful remarks on contemporary human experiences. With rural activation and revitalisation programs emerging, I am hopeful that Indonesian leaf craft will persist and perhaps start to be noticed as a subject of cultural and historical preservation. Folk crafts can be a chance to evaluate some of our modern habits and rediscover older ones. Afterall, these delicate unassuming containers hold far more than our snacks, they carry the heritage of a region, skills and traditions of its people.