Piong Ayam

 

In August Dave and I did something we do all too rarely -- we boarded a plane without an assignment, traveled not for work but because there was a place that we'd wanted to travel to for long time.

The thing about freelancing -- well, there are many things about freelancing and most of them are good, very good. But one of the less good things about it -- especially in these times -- is that the need to feed the bank account often overshadows other needs that, while not particularly lucrative, are nonetheless important. For us: to travel, engage, and process without a particular goal and with no deadline.

We're highly pragmatic folks at heart, and in all likelihood we would have put Toraja off for another year -- again. But a passing mention to a friend in Jakarta of our long-time desire to see this region in the middle of Sulawesi led to his friend, who opened her home to us. How could we say 'no'? We couldn't.

We went, and I'm so glad we had that extra push to do so.

When we returned to Kuala Lumpur we were immediately sucked back into the swirl of work and deadlines, as well as preparations for an extended visit to the States. I never really had a chance to digest Toraja properly. Now I find it hard to believe it's been only 4 months since we were there. It seems years ago.

This morning I found some of Dave's images on a stick drive. I got out my notebook and paged through it, astonished to realize that there are so many details from that trip that I've already forgotten. Like this dish, this lovely, ambrosial piong ayam that we ate for dinner with new friends, at a long wooden table in a beautiful treehouse of a home perched in the hills of Batutumonga. 

Piong ayam is a Torajaan specialty. Piong describes the genre -- meat cooked inside a length of bamboo over an open fire -- and ayam means 'chicken'. It's a special-occasion dish (piong babi, made with pork, is a staple at Torajaan funeral ceremonies). And it's a specialty of Ibu, mother-in-law of the lady of the house in which we stayed.

Ibu is a force to be reckoned with. That's not an eye-witness statement, but more of a deduction based on observation. She's quiet and friendly yet gives off an unmistakeable aura of strength. When I think of her the word 'tall' comes to mind, yet she's at least a head shorter than I. But her presence is big. Ibu is neither loud nor showy, but when she's in a room she is unmistakeably 'there'.

We struggled to communicate, me with my limited Indonesian and Ibu with her limited English. But we share a love of food and cooking, and that always smooths the way.

 

Piong is like Vietnamese bo kho, Italian ragu, American southwestern chili con carne -- there's no one recipe. Every cook has his or her own way with the dish, his or her own 'secret' to making the best version in the world. I asked Ibu for hers. She declined to be specific -- "Just the right combination of ingredients and eat it hot." But she did let us watch.

First the chicken (three, in this case) is very lightly cooked over an open flame to remove those last pesky pin feathers and lend a bit of flavor. This was done in the kitchen of a small house above the main house. As the chicken browned it gave off a scent that drew certain members of the household to a spot just outside the door.

Ibu adds banana stem to her piong ayam-- a combination that recalls binanihan, a chicken-and-banana stem stew we learned how to make last year on Mindanao, in the southern Philippines (which is not all that far from Sulawesi, in fact).

The freshly harvested stem is sliced

and squeezed to break it down. (Unlike the banana stem on Mindanao this one seemed not to need 'de-fibering' before it could be cooked.)

The other ingredients for Ibu's piong ayam include:

 

pounded lemongrass stalks, sliced red shallots, sliced ginger, sliced garlic, chopped Chinese celery leaves and stem, whole red chilies, and salt. 

After the chicken is chopped (bones in) and mixed thoroughly with the banana stem -- only the hands will do for this amount of food -- the rest of the ingredients are added one by one.

 

Like most Asian cooks Ibu doesn't consult a recipe or use any sort of measuring device. She looks and she tastes.

 

Yes, Ibu tasted the mix 5 or 6 times before she was satisfied with the amount of salt and seasonings -- something you certainly wouldn't see done in a Western kitchen when raw chicken is part of the dish.

She grabbed the teeniest bit of the mixture between her thumb and forefinger, placed it on her tongue, rolled it around, and spit it out.

 

After the flavor of the mixture was to her liking Ibu and our host's helper got down to the business of stuffing the lengths of bamboo in which it would be cooked.

Some Torajaans wrap their piong in banana leaf before stuffing it into the bamboo. I asked about this technique, which it seemed would make it easier to remove the chicken from the bamboo after it was cooked. Ibu wrinkled her nose. I'm not entirely certain, but she may also have uttered the word "lazy".

Stuffing the bamboo by hand is the only way to go here.

The open end of the bamboo is secured with the folded tough outer 'rings' of the banana trunk that encircled the edible inner stem.

 

While the chicken and other ingredients were prepped and mixed a fire was prepared. Once filled the bamboo tubes were placed over the fire at an angle, and turned often to ensure even cooking. 

An advantage of the non-airtight banana stem 'stopper' is that it lets the dish tell you when it's done: meat juices bubbling out the top of the tube signal that the chicken is thoroughly cooked. That takes about an hour over the fire.

Probably the most difficult part of making piong ayam is getting the chicken out of the bamboo when it's done.

 

 

Over the fire the bamboo dries out and becomes hard as, well, wood. First it has to be stripped of its charred outer layers. Then it must be hacked open with a cleaver -- or a saw.

 

The end justifies the effort, a hundredfold.

The chicken was incredibly moist and juicy, infused with the subtle fragrance of lemongrass and the sharp bite of the celery leaves. Shallot and garlic, softened and lightly browned where they'd touched the  bamboo, gave a bit of sweetness, and every third or second mouthful held a shot of heat from a softened chili. Amazingly, the banana stem retained some crunch.

All of the ingredients came together in the bamboo's embrace of smoky, vegetal 'woodiness'.

 

This wasn't the only bit of genius to come from the kitchen of Ibu those days in Batutumonga, but it was the star of our stay there. We ate piong ayam that night, the next morning, and again before we left the following day. Our regret is having to leave more leftovers behind when we departed.

Comments

[Nate]

We've seen chicken cooked similarly in bamboo here in Sarawak. Amazing, and delicious.

Hopefully we can finagle a recipe from one of our friends.

[Spike]

I can't begin to tell you how happy I am each time you've got a new post here. And this is one of the best ones yet, the photos are gorgeous!

[borneoboy]

Our Sarawak version is called Ayam Pansuh. The seasoning is mainly lemon grass, ginger and some local herbs. One of my favourite indigenous recipes. The chicken cooked in this process takes on an almost silky texture if done right. Truly wonderful served with some Bario rice.

[Life 2.0]

The cooking process is amazing and thank you for documenting it so well. Have a wonderful holiday season and New Year.

Warm Wishes,

Life

Btw, we just about 4 inches of snow today, but the low dense clouds have made the day quite warm and wonderful.

[Albert]

Thanks a lot for sharing, this dish looked awesome. I have had rice dishes cooked in bamboo before (in taiwan), but this preparation opens my eye.

As always, amazing photographs.

[Robyn]

Nate and BorneoBoy - have not tried the Sarawak version, but there is something about the bamboo that lends this wonderful flavor and, as BorneoBoy pointed out, give the chicken a great silky texture. In some ways it reminds me of the texture of my mom's Tgiving dressing when she cooks it inside the bird.

Thanks Spike, for reading (or just looking, whatever the case may be)!

Life 2.0 - same to you. We are heading north in a few wks. Don't think we'll see snow but I am looking forward to temps in the 40s (F).

Albert - you're welcome, and thanks for the nice words. Where in Taiwan, on the east coast?

[Pepy @ Indonesia Eats]

Something that I would be impossible to recreate here :(

[Robyn]

Hi Pepy -- I've thought about wrapping/rolling the mixture in banana leaf and BBQing, or baking at high heat. (Maybe wrapped in foil). Yes, you would not get the bamboo flavor but the leaf would give something.
I've had Balinese pepes ayam and also with duck prepared in an oven -- it's not bad.

[Albert]

I think the practice of cooking rice in bamboo in Taiwan is attributed to the aboriginal tribes in the mountainous regions on the island. Thus while you might encounter this dish (called 竹筒飯, literally rice in a bamboo tube) in the coastal cities and towns on occasion, it is more commonly found in more inland places (such as 南投）

[Meng]

This reminds me of lemang in Malaysia. I have never had lemang when I was growing up in KL. I will make an effort to eat lemang on my next visit.

[Robyn]

Albert - Thanks for the info ... we'll keep an eye out for it on our next trip.

Hi Meng - Malaysians say it's difficult these days to fine 'real' lemang ... ie rice that's been entirely cooked in bamboo rather than cooked beforehand and stuffed in for a final turn over the fire. But we've had some tasty versions here in KL.

[borneoboy]

The locals in Sarawak make great lemang during Gawai and Hari Raya. You all should come down here and give it a try, especially during Ramadhan when there are several great bazaars.

[healthy sports]

Does not look good at all.. But I hope it taste good.. :)

[small homes]

Asian dishes never fail to amaze me. Asians are so creative and they make the most out of what nature can give them in order to survive.

[J2Kfm]

What magnificent shots, and so vibrant. They chose to cook this in the middle of the field huh?
Reminds me of the 'lemang' from Malaysia, mixed with elements from 'otak-otak' (fish paste/souffle?).

[meemalee]

I adore food cooked in bamboo - steamed meat, sticky rice, banana pudding - it's all good.

I don't think I'll be recreating this recipe though, wonderful though it seems :)

[Jason Sandeman]

Oh, this dish is super not fair. I would give a LOT to be able to cut open that bamboo and taste what was inside. Authentic, real, and very cool at that. I am so putting this on the tasting. I just wish I knew the recipe!

[Joyce Siew]

Authentic & superb post! If you have the chance, do visit Adeline's Place in Gopeng (within the kampung & jungle). Tell her that her chicken feet bamboo soup is fantastic, and she may just specially cook it for ya! Had the opportunity to enjoy it while having my company gathering there.

[matthew]

Looks good. Makes me think of the chicken+banana stem dish served at weddings in Sumatra. My favourite of all the dishes i think.

Anyway, you need to add this post to the 'Indonesia' category...

[Vintage Rings]

Amazing post! I like Indonesian food, but I never saw how it's cooked in real life. I think you are lucky on being a part of this process. Very nice photos and descriptions, I'm sure the finally dish was very tasty. I wish I can taste it:) Thanks for the post.