This article is written to represent the children of parents who migrated.
For us — the children of migrants, especially those of Sumatran descent — wherever we go, finding delicious, affordable Indonesian food in a single serving feels like discovering treasure.
Exaggerated? Maybe. But that’s how it feels.
These special dishes are like medicine for us who live far from our hometowns. Let me tell you a little story. Please read until the end — here it is.
I’ve lived in East Jakarta and Bekasi since 1988.
Even after 33 years in the capital and its surroundings — and even though my accent now sounds Betawi — my friends and I remain migrants, because our parents were migrants.
Among our favorite foods is pempek from Palembang, something we’ve loved since we were teenagers. And this is one of our stories.
Pempek Memories
This story takes place between 1984 and 1988, in Tanjung Uban, Riau Islands, at Public Elementary School 002 Tanjung Uban.
Nek Tum’s pempek stall was our daily stop after school. I was the son of a soldier stationed in the Riau Islands at the time.
Nek Tum’s stall was a 3x3 meter bamboo booth, right beside the school’s front wall. She was an elderly woman who both owned and ran the shop, assisted by her daughter — a young mother whose name I can no longer remember. I suspect she was the one who made the pempek, perhaps taught by Nek Tum herself.
Back then, around 1984–1986, Nek Tum sold her pempek for Rp 25 a piece or per layer. Incredibly cheap, yes — but her pempek didn’t look like the typical Palembang style. It was flat and stubby, almost like an omelet, about 15 cm in diameter and half a centimeter thick. Still, it was chewy like sausage, rich with fish flavor, and served with authentic Palembang-style sauce.
After school, many students bought two layers for just Rp 50 — and that already included a glass of water.
In 1987, my father was transferred to Tanjung Pinang. There, we couldn’t find pempek like Nek Tum’s. Every stall served the usual Palembang varieties — submarine, lenjer, and round. None had her simple magic.
There’s never been another pempek quite like Nek Tum’s. But that’s all right; the taste remains in memory. Since then, we’ve never been able to live too long without pempek — we still eat it once or twice a month.
The Lost Pempek
In 1993, my father was transferred again — this time to Bandung. We lived on Jalan Gajah, Buah Batu, across from Hotel 10 Dua. At night, a blue tent appeared there: a small food stall selling only two things — martabak and pempek (without the “Palembang” label).
I always wondered why they didn’t use “Palembang.” Maybe the vendor wanted to emphasize that pempek isn’t exclusive to one place — because indeed, several regions outside Palembang, such as Bangka, Belitung, Jambi, and Bengkulu, also have their own versions.
But one thing was certain: the taste was incredible! The pempek was chewy, the fish flavor fresh, and the cuko sauce sweet and spicy, just like the kind sold along the Musi River. The martabak — both sweet and savory — was equally delicious.
Sadly, in 2002, when we went there again, the vendor said, “We won’t be selling anymore next month.”
They had been there for ten years, from 1992 to 2002. When I asked why they were closing, the vendor sighed and said, “Selling food here isn’t good anymore. Too many cowboys — extortionists, buskers, thugs. It’s just not safe.”
And true enough — by 2003, when we passed by again, the stall was gone. The spot had become a parking lot for pedicabs. A Bandung-style pempek, gone forever.
The same story repeated in the Cimindi area. Around 2002, a cart called “AND 99 Pempek Palembang” stood proudly in front of Lippo Bank (I’m not sure what the bank is now — this story was written in 2021). Their pempek was just as delicious as that sold along the Musi River. But again, they were forced to move because roadside “owners” demanded extra money — in other words, extortion.
In 2007, another small pempek shop opened on Jalan Kerkof, Leuwigajah, Cimahi, beside an AHASS motorcycle workshop. A banner read Pempek Palembang, with a photo of a submarine-style pempek.
Unfortunately, it lasted only a year.
The vendor told me, “It’s not good here, bro. The thugs come every day — morning, noon, afternoon, night. Always asking for something: security fees, cigarettes, money for cleaning the gutters — always another reason. We’d better find another place.”
A Taste Under Threat
These are just a few stories of pempek sellers in Bandung who were wiped out by extortion. I’m sure there are many others across Indonesia.
I simply want to emphasize how real extortion is — how it suffocates ordinary people and undermines the growth of small businesses, especially those preserving Indonesia’s regional cuisine.
For pempek lovers in Jakarta, I can still recommend a few survivors — stalls in Kemayoran, and Pempek Pa’ Raden, which still serve excellent dishes.
But to those in charge of local government: please, don’t let thugs oppress them. They are the true guardians of Indonesia’s culinary heritage. Who else will preserve our traditional flavors, if not us?
Note:
I’ve heard of a place said to serve pempek as good as Palembang’s — Pempek Wiwin, located on Jl. Wibawa Mukti 2, between Jatiasih and Jatisari.
