You grew up watching your grandmother cook over charcoal. Have you found similarities between Indian and Indonesian cooking?
One of the strongest common threads between Indian and Indonesian cuisine is our deep respect for fire and charcoal cooking. Charcoal is not simply a cooking medium as it imparts character, depth, aroma and a sense of tradition to food. Charcoal is central to dishes like satay, various bakar preparations and timbungan. The Chola Empire’s links with Indonesia also helped shape our culinary traditions. Rendang, for instance, is believed to have been inspired by a South Indian coconut-based beef stew. Dishes such as satay, grilled seafood and meats cooked over open flames develop a distinctive smokiness that defines them. During my visits to India, I have seen the same reverence for charcoal in tandoor cooking, kebabs and regional village-style preparations.
Do you rely more on recipes or instinct in the kitchen?
I have precise recipes, especially for foundational sauces, but they are only the starting point. Great cooking requires both precision and instinct. Precision brings consistency, discipline and technical excellence, while instinct comes from years of understanding ingredients and responding to what a dish needs at that moment. Take soy sauce, for example. The soy sauce you find in Vietnam, Japan and India all taste different. Their saltiness, aroma and quality vary, so you cannot blindly follow the same measurements.
What from your childhood still influences the way you cook today?
My grandmother used to make pepes ikan bakar for me, a fish wrapped in banana leaves and cooked over charcoal. The dish has a wonderful dual effect: the fish steams inside the leaf while also absorbing the smoky aroma of the charcoal, something even modern combi ovens cannot truly replicate. She remains one of my greatest influences. I watched her cook patiently, relying on her senses rather than recipes. Lemongrass, galangal, turmeric, kaffir lime, coconut and smoky grilled notes all take me back to those childhood memories. Even in a luxury dining environment, I try to preserve that authenticity.
Many restaurants promise authentic food while adapting to local tastes. How do you strike that balance?
We have to be mindful of the local palate if we want to truly delight our guests. For example, terasi (Indonesian shrimp paste) is a staple ingredient back home, but we generally avoid using it here because it isn’t familiar to many diners. At the same time, we encourage guests to try traditional flavours because many of them are acquired tastes. For me, authenticity is not about being rigid, it is about being respectful. The challenge is knowing what can change and what should never change. If guests can still recognise the story and spirit behind the dish, then you’ve achieved the right balance. Respecting local culture is also part of respecting the cuisine.
If your life could be told through one dish, what would it be?
Satay. It’s simple but incredibly versatile. It can be made with meat, fish or vegetables, and every region has its own sauce and flavour. Cooked over charcoal and served fresh, it represents tradition, adaptability and the connection between food, people and culture, everything I believe cooking should be.