Bami Goreng

The name already tells you where to begin, if you listen to it properly. Bami comes by way of Indonesian from Hokkien bakmi, meat noodles, the Chinese noodle tradition made at home in the archipelago. Goreng means fried. Simple enough. But let me tell you a secret: in the Netherlands, bami goreng is never only noodles. It is memory carried home from the colony, adapted in boarding houses, military kitchens, Indo-Dutch family tables, and later the snackbar, where history sometimes wears a paper tray and says very little about itself.

This is the Indo-Dutch table at its most ordinary, which is where I trust it most. Not the grand rijsttafel with its parade of dishes, but the pan that appears on a Wednesday evening beside nasi, sambal, pickles, and a fried egg if the household is feeling generous. History and cookery, they cannot be separated, yet the dish asks for no solemnity. It asks for heat, speed, and restraint.

The why is plain before you start. Cook the noodles first and cool them, because hot wet noodles collapse into a paste. Cut the meat and vegetables small, because stir-frying gives no time for second thoughts. Use ketjap manis, sweet Indonesian soy sauce, for gloss and sweetness, and sambal oelek for the clean chilli bite. Hou het altijd simpel. Once the pan is hot, the dish is finished almost before you can explain it, which is exactly why everything must be ready before the oil goes in.