Return to the Cookery index page
Background image provided by 
Text ©1990 by Sam Waring. All rights reserved.
Created: Thu, 5 Aug 2004 at 19:03:03 UTC
Now that was a blowout.
The rijstaffel that the Waco group of Mensa threw on the February seventeenth was a fine party and a great occasion to try out a cuisine that’s uncommon in most cities—that of Indonesia. A rijstaffel, in case you’ve never run into one before, is a survival of the colonial days in Indonesia, when the area was under Dutch control The word itself is Dutch for “rice table.” It’s a sort of buffet, with between ten and twenty dishes served, often in courses, over a plate of rice. You start with a layer of rice for a foundation, then take a spoon or two of everything. By the time you try a bite of all that there is, you’ve got a load on your plate to rival the Tuesday night all-you-can-gobble buffet.
Indonesian cooking is related to other types in the region; I was reminded of Thai and Viet, myself. It relies heavily on fish, coconut, and shrimp paste, although these aren’t the only things present. The Dutch did have a hand in things, after all, and their influence shows in the use of red meats (beef and lamb, both introduced by the colonizers).
One dish served was chunks of lamb in a curried sauce that reminded me of central Indian curries. There was a skewered and grilled pork dish that as near as dammit was a Thai mu sate. Another was a squid in sauce, lightly cooked, so the squid hadn’t turned to rubber (sometimes a trick to accomplish). And then there are the sambals—chili pepper sauces that’ll make you forget you ever thought picante sauce was hot. Those things can be nuclear!
The most unusual offering of the evening was at dessert. One of the members from Dallas found a durian somewhere and brought it along. Durian is something it helps to be Indonesian to love; it’s a drab, olive-colored fruit the size of a very large cantaloupe, with blunt spines all over. Think of a melon-sized hand grenade with points, and you begin to get the idea.
The problem with eating durian is how to do so while holding your nose. Not to put too fine a point on it, it stinks. The aroma is a heady mixture of Limburger and old socks. If you can get past the smell, though, you’ll find a wonderful meat with a very sweet, creamy texture, much like a custard, and a vanilla-ish flavor. I think it would also be good with a squeeze of lime juice over it.
I wound up bringing a dessert myself, made from a recipe the hostess gave me out of one of her cookbooks. The original directions were somewhere the far side of horrendous, so I modified them to add back all the instructions the author left out.
| 6 egg whites | ½ tsp vanilla extract |
| 1½ cups granulated sugar | ½ tsp cinnamon powder |
| 10 egg yolks | ½ tsp nutmeg |
| 1-1/3 cups unsalted butter | ½ tsp allspice powder |
| 2½ cups flour |
Beat the egg whites with one-third of the sugar and, in a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks with another third. Soften the butter and cut into small pieces, then mix this with the remaining sugar and beat until light and creamy. Put the three mixtures into one large bowl, add the flour and vanilla extract and blend thoroughly.
Transfer two-thirds of this mixture to another bowl and to this add the cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice powder and stir to blend well.
Pour one-third of the spiced mixture into the pan and bake at 350 F. for ten to twelve minutes, until firm, then add half the plain mixture and bake until this is also firm. Repeat the process three more times; spiced, plain, and ending with spiced. Turn out onto a wire rack and allow to cool before serving.
Serves four (well, that’s an awful lot. I think it serves more like eight or ten after a rijstaffel, because you’re too full to want more than that.)
first ran: March 1990
Return to the Cookery index page
Background image provided by
Text ©1990 by Sam Waring. All rights reserved.