Crossing the Bridge Noodles

Come evening, what seems like most of Padang's youth (teens and post-teens-but-unmarrieds) head for the water. Scruffy pantai Padang (Padang beach), with its collection of warung (open-air food stalls) and mobile drink 'n snack carts, is a popular meeting place; at it's northern end groups of giggling girls gather to watch shirtless boys lurch and tumble around a football pitch etched in the sand.

We prefer to take in the sunset from the two-lane bridge spanning the Sungai Arau, where vendors line up chairs and stools on the narrow sidewalks and sell noodles, drinks, and bananas and corn grilled over coconut husks. It's here that we dine, our first night on Sumatra, on a memorable version of mie ayam (chicken noodles).

Mie ayam is found just about anywhere - on almost any block in any city or town, and in any village - in Sumatra (and probably Indonesia, for that matter). Its simple name, short on descriptives, allows for a range of interpretations among the hawkers who specialize in it, but in two weeks of sampling we find none that can compare to the heavenly concoction dished up from this cart on the Padang bridge.

We reckon it's the super-stewed chicken, spooned up from a plastic tub that resides in the cupboad of his cart, that makes this vendor's noodles so special. Cooked so long (8 hours? maybe even several days) that it's fallen completely off the bone to form a tender almost-mush, it's so imbued with flavor and fragrance that we can't tell where the bird ends and the spices begin. Nutmeg, cloves, cinammon, coriander and cumin seeds, galangal, ginger, garlic ... all these ingredients are fleetingly identifiable in the final product, but the complexity of the contents of this tub hints at more, much more.

The chicken is spooned on top of yellow egg noodles and strips of a sturdy green vegetable that are boiled together a la minute in the cauldron of bubbling yellowish (turmeric?) broth that nests in the vendor's cart. It's joined by a couple of savory, pleasantly chewy balls of something resembling gluten (sago flour?) and a generous blob of tart and tangy homemade sambal hijau (a cooked sambal of green chilies, garlic, onions, sometimes bitter pea eggplant, and a souring agent such as tamarind, belimbing, lime, or kalamansi).

Before they're served the noodles are dribbled with kecap manis and two kinds of red chili sauce, and then topped with sliced shallots fried a deep golden brown.

Rice flour crackers, served on the side or piled right on top of the noodles, add crunch and (very important) another means by which to sop up the nectareous sweet, sour, fragrant, and spicy (in a subtle, slow-burn bass note kind of way that I've come to think of as 'Sumatran hot') gravy that results when noodles, chicken, sambal, condiments, and broth are mixed.

 

Through the next couple of weeks we find ourselves reminiscing - over plates or bowls of a tasty something or other, somewhere else on Sumatra - about this humble dish. By the time we get back to Padang, late in the afternoon the day before our early morning flight back to Kuala Lumpur, we've only a single meal left. Come evening we head back to the bridge, for sunset and a bowl of noodles.

Mie ayam, a whopping 5000 rupiah (65 or so US cents) per bowl. Sungai Arau bridge (the cart is about at the bridge's halfway point; if you're heading from downtown to the hills, it's on your right), Padang. He's there from about 5pm on.

Comments

[Syafique]

Read and love your column in the July's issue of KLue magazine.

Love this blog, too. I love the pics. It's beautiful.

I've lived in Indonesia before but have never tried Mee pansit. Perhaps I should go back there and appreciate the local food.

[Robyn]

Syafique - ah, someone actually read my piece in KLue! Thanks for stopping by, and for the lovely comments. I can't quite figure out what the pansit is - a type of noodle different to mie? The vendor called our dish mie ayam and I didn't see any other customers with a different type of noodle, so I'm a bit baffled. Anyway - it was beyond delicious!

[RST]

Pangsit or pancit is a name that in the Philippines and in parts of Indonesia refers, just like the Hokkienese word mie, to noodles in general. By itself, it conjures a dish of yellow (egg) noodles. But it often takes modifiers that specify distinct forms: such as pancit guisado for instance, or pancit bihon (bihon or rice vermicelli = Hokkien word for mei fen) or that quaint street food form of Lucban, Quezon called pancit habhab.

[RST]

Supposedly, the word derives from Hokkienese pian-e-sit, allegedly meaning easy-to-make. That etymology makes no sense to me at all and is suspect. My guess is that the roots are deeper-for all we know, the word could go back 1,000 years...

[Lois]

Wow! I know! I know! Try to to manage the shock of hearing from me! But just had to say how much we all love your blog and your eating adventures. I just finished mopping the kitchen floor so it was very nice to be transported to somewhere far from here and so exotic and delicious sounding. Hmm, wonder if I could whip up something like that for dinner tonight?! Dave, your pictures are fantastic! You have a great eye for the interesting and unique. Keep it coming!

[Robyn]

Well Lois, I *did* fall off my chair when I saw your comment, but otherwise really no surprise at all. ;-) Dave says your lovely words make up for Bethy's backhanded compliment on the Padang post. :-) Seriously, thanks to all the N MI H clan for stopping by!

[lia]

sorry folks, but pangsit in indonesian is actually wonton. so "mi ayam pangsit" is really plain ole chicken noodle with wonton. but with street vendors, usually the wonton is just the wrappers without the meat filling (cos they're cheap).

the chewy balls are actually beef balls. but again, with street vendors, the beef is so minimal that there's hardly beef in it anymore. just lots of sago.

[Robyn]

Thanks Lia, for the info. In the case of this dish, then, 'pangsit' most likely refers to the crispies served on the side, which are in fact deep-fried wonton skins. I wouldn't want them filled - it's a textural thing, and there's plenty of flavor in the chicken already. I found the balls plenty flavorful, and I loved the springy texture from the sago flour.