Although I have been eating fried rice since before I can remember, I can still recall the first time I was bowled over by a particular version of the dish. That was with the nasi goreng at Chili’s.¹ Why, I had no idea fried rice could taste so good with shrimp paste! And cucumber! And tomatoes! We ate those together at home, too, but never cooked into the same dish.
Wait — maybe I’m really thinking of khao pad. Chili’s was supposed to be a Thai restaurant, after all (like the nearby, more upscale Flavours & Spices). Or was it? Is pita Thai? I distinctly remember they served that as well. Now I’m confused, so let’s just say it was fusion. In any case, the fried rice was so good, it was the only dish I remember eating there. Come to think of it, it was the only thing I ever ordered (or could afford on a student’s budget).
Food, like life, should have a little of everything: salty, sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and meaty (umami). It’s tempting to throw everything into fried rice, especially when you have a lot of leftovers to get off your hands. Isn’t that what the dish was originally intended to do? As Wikipedia tells it, before the Chinese arrived in Indonesia, locals used to sun-dry leftover rice to be made into crackers or ground as flour. By 2011, nasi goreng was hailed by CNN readers as the second most delicious food in the world.
I agree.² Like Breadtalk’s pork floss buns, nasi goreng is a perfect example of synergy. Everything comes together to create a whole greater than its parts. What strikes me about it is that it does not feel like something that’s been cobbled together from odds and ends — unlike my chicken pasta the other day, which started out as simple carbonara but has since become a cold salad with the addition of mayo, pineapple, carrot, and cheddar, and still doesn’t feel of a piece — that kind of cobbled together. Even in its most basic iteration, i.e., without meat (like my version here), nasi goreng can be a standalone, singular meal, perfect for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
Is it because of that peculiarly Chinese-Indonesian blend of soy sauce and molasses called kecap manis? I often wonder why this condiment has not caught on among Filipinos, with our penchant for anything simultaneously salty and sweet. Do yourself a favor and get a bottle — you’ll wonder how you have ever managed without it.
Is it the egg? The fermented shrimp paste? The cucumber and tomatoes? All these ingredients we have at our disposal, although somehow we have never moved past garlic. Now I absolutely love sinangag, especially on the moist side (and I do not mean oily). Back in college there was this diner³ across La Salle’s north gate that served sinangag made with what looked like newly cooked, near-glutinous rice. It was equally good just this side of different, but it practically demanded for some tapa/tocino/longganisa to go with it. What sinangag worth its salt doesn’t?
Nasi goreng, on the other hand, just is. See for yourself. It’s a snap to make. If you can’t get hold of kecap manis, mix equal amounts of regular dark soy sauce and muscovado/brown sugar, then simmer, stirring constantly until mixture thickens. The egg you can fry and plonk on top of the rice, or beat and mix straight in. Or you can have it both ways. It’s just fried rice, right? If you didn’t know already, you’d be surprised how wrong you are.
Nasi Goreng
The name literally translates to “fried rice” in Indonesian and Malay. This is my basic recipe. For a meatier version, add scraps from leftover dishes, including (but not limited to) chicken, pork, beef, and/or shrimp.
- 4 cups cooked rice, preferably day-old
- 2 tablespoons oil, for frying
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 medium red onion, minced
- 1 medium red tomato, minced
- 1 finger chili, minced
- 2 stalks spring onion, whites and greens chopped separately
- juice of ½ lime or 1 kalamansi
- ⅓ cup diced cucumber
- 1 tablespoon fermented shrimp paste
- 3 tablespoons kecap manis
- 1 teaspoon fish sauce
- salt and pepper, to taste
- 1 large egg, beaten
- 1 egg, fried or poached (per person, optional)
- tomato and cucumber slices, to garnish
- fried kropek, to garnish
- basil leaves, to garnish
- Fluff rice so grains are not sticking together. Set aside.
- Using mortar and pestle, pound garlic, onion, tomato, chili, spring onion (white parts only), and lime (or kalamansi) juice until you get a rough paste. Add shrimp paste and fish sauce and mix well.
- Heat oil in a skillet. Sauté spice paste until golden, then add rice and toss to mix. Add kecap manis and toss rice some more until each grain is coated or colored.
- Make a well in the center and pour beaten egg into it. Stir egg until thick (but not set), then work into the rice until evenly distributed. Season with salt and black pepper.
- Stir in the spring onion greens and diced cucumber before serving. Plate with fried kropek and tomato and cucumber slices on the side, and basil leaves (and fried/poached egg, if desired) on top.
¹ Not to be confused with the international Tex-Mex chain. It was located at the Legazpi St. entrance of what is now Greenbelt 1 (this was in the mid-to-late ’80s). «
² With the choice of nasi goreng. Not so with with the more highly rated beef rendang. «
³ Galaxy Diner, its name was. I miss harassing the elderly manang who ran the place, she was so easily rattled. «
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