me, slurring one day

That evening I hopped into a noisy, air-polluting three-wheeled scooter with passenger seat and asked the smelly driver to just go ahead. I stopped by the nearest Circle K to revisit the taste of clove cigarettes with some hints of mints that was remodeled after slim Vogue cigarettes and headed for a nearest bistro with enough lighting.

Settled my butt on a peranakan style dining table in a bistro-wannabee cafe, I stared blankly at a blackboard full of texts written in colorful chalks that says "I Love You" in 50 languages. Focusing my not-so 20/20 vision, I put down the "Elephant Vanishes" and started to pity those abundant Hindi speakers as they have to go through the whole nine yards to express, "Hum Tumse Pyar Karte Hain", then started to understand where did the Italians got their practical romanticism with "Ti Amo". I dunno whether I should pity the Thais to have their "L" word sounds like fried noodles menu with "Phom Rak Khun", while the Czechs probably got the cutest "Miluji te" (well.. "milu" means "corn" in one of Indonesia's local tribe lingo. It still sounds cute tho..).

I got stuck with a couple of love birds turning their backs from me trying their best not to make out publicly while sitting under a huge painting of a woman wearing dark Kimono with blindfolded eyes and mouth tied across the jaw. What a mocking paradox to my being alone, sipping "Lust for Life", which is probably the cheesiest mocktail that plunges together Pepsi Blue, lotsa ice, Crème de menthe syrup, lemon juice and.. milk! I must have been feeling enough blue to order "Gnocchi in Blue Cheese" that didn't look blue at all. A bit soppy though not gooey, though too late to request my order as a side dish. I was stuck to finish a pool of blue cheese sauce.

The group of chatty women who arrived after my wondering at the Ethiopian "L" word complained about the presence of mushrooms in a pizza they ordered despite their request to omit them. The waiter argued that the specific pizza had to have mushrooms in it. Whud? Is this eatery trying to kill their customers by not suggesting other menu upfront??

As I was puffing my second dose of nicotine and tar, my head started to turn and felt the itch to write. I had to ask three times to two people to give me a paper and pen. The petite girl with long black jet straight hair and eye lashes glued together by waterproof mascara had a PR look all over, but she gradually ran away after I posed my request.

In between my main menu and the itch to write, the waiter came up to my table and lit the floating candle on a glass cup, then the main lamp that has been bathing me with enough lights went off. Oh, that explained the candle service.. I couldn't continue reading, though I could still manage to spoon the Gnocchi, burn more cigarettes and jot down a few sentences.

Spinning my pen between my fingers and enjoying the nicotine and tar that slowly seeped into my system, the image of lovely pillows was floating above my head. I got up, paid the bills and hailed a scooter cab back home.

Loca
Jl. Benda No. 7A,
Kemang, Jakarta Selatan
Phone: 021 - 7883197

Yay:
* Free hot spot
* Various choices of coffees
* Comfy sofas, wooden desks and chairs
* Pasta and pizza
* Scheduled music and exhibition (photo etc).

Nay
* Menu knowledge is low
* Menu description can be deceiving
* Smoking area in all tables
* Service is kinda slow
* Make sure what you order several times

9-10 US$ per person for meal, beverage and desert.

closest, cleanest, cheaper

For you who knows "Kemang" and been there for quite some times, you might have heard of "Dixie", this easy dining place. A friend of mine label it as "edible", I label it as "closest, cleanest, cheapest place to eat" (can't stand fast food all the time).

They're changing their concept into a pasta place. What you have to do is choose the type of pasta that you like. You may take the curly ones, the long and thin ones, the hollow ones or the classic "spaghetti" type. Then, choose the size. Yeah, not only Kemang numerous vintage boutiques make you choose your size, even "Warung Pasta" (pasta bistro) let you do that. They have S, M and L size, and each size goes by weight (in metric size).

Choose standard stir fry, appetizers or baked ones. The baked ones is quite unique. I thought they pre-cooked everything and only reheat stuffs. Wrong! I gotta wait for a few minutes before my order arrived. They do cook everything from zero!

My "Mushroom Chunks Baked Pasta" comes in a clay pot, but the mozarella and grated cheddar were browned. So, I guess they baked the pot without cover and present it with cover. Pretty neat. The clay pot keeps the pasta warm to the last scoop.

If you happen to be in Jakarta, bear with Kemang traffic. The worst in during weekend. "Warung Pasta" can be really full with hip and chic teens from 20:00 PM onwards.

Pricewise, they are okay. My bill topped at around 38,000 IDR (around 4-5 USD) for free refill clear water, minestroni soup which was wayy too salty and an "M" size baked pasta.

greasy friday

The Fritter Man is a man because it is a he.
He has a huge wok with boiling used oil. So dark you can't see the bottom. Before 6:00 AM he's already there, dipping pieces of bananas and soybean cake (we call it "tempe" here in Indonesia) in thin flour batter and plunging them into the wok.

The wok he's using is on top of a gas burner with a controlling gauge kinda thing. But if the gauge doesn't work, he has to pump the gas burner. I have no idea how it works.

The Fritter Man occupies a small corner at the entrance of an office building's cafeteria. Right at the base of the parking building. He has a glass showcase where he dumps all of the crispy cooked fritters. He taxes you 1,000 IDR (10 US$ cents? somewhere around it) for three pieces of any fritters you want. The menu of everyday is: soybean cake fritter, tofu fritter, bean sprout fritter, banana fritter. I don't know whether he has this famous "cassava fritter", which is a must-exist fritter among thousands fritter men here in Jakarta. The guy bags my fritter in a small used-paperbag. Apparently the bag bearing an imprint of the state's seal and was marked "secret" used to be a "performance appraisal sheet" of government officers. I guess he got it from the office next to the parking building. It's the head quarter of the Department of Education. I guess that's where the Minister of Education gets a nice airconned office with plush furnitures.

The used-paperbag was drenched with oil as I put them on my table. It's a greasy friday, baby..