A friend mentioned it almost a year ago and ever since it was one of those thoughts that could not leave my mind. It’s was like anticipating that first kiss with that first overseas Facebook or pen-pal girlfriend or boyfriend who’s coming to town after a year of long distance relationship. There was a chance it would not be as romantic. “Saetoh (was how they would enunciate my name), you have to try the Satay Penyu in Bali. Sensational man.”, was what culinary baron extraordinaire William Wongso decreed. He is the foremost purveyor of Indonesian makan culture, with books, television shows and a string of eateries to his name. Last week, he was awarded lionised nationally as a cultural and an entrepreneurial icon in the field of gastronomy by their country’s Vice President Yusof Kalla. Congrats, Pak William!

5sticks of turtle satay only at 6000 rupiahs, just a thousand more expensive than the pork satay being sold at the stall beside.

Satay Penyu or turtle satay is a rarity, even in Indonesia. The majority Hindu Balinese have for many centuries offered that exotic sliver of seafood kebab to their gods at religious festivals. But officially, it’s banned in Indonesia, which casts a film of suspicious air over this much touted satay. While it is not banned in Singapore, and ironically many turtle soup hawkers get their supplies from farms in Indonesia, it comes in a herbal soup or stewed. I am no big fan of turtle whatever dish and I don’t even eat them as often as I do reservist army rations. But I never back off such challenges as a makan storyteller- I eat something interesting, digest the culture and regurgitate the whole story- just so I get a better idea how folks live, eat, work, pray and play.

So as it were, fate blew me to Bali again. And William’s words rang in my head like the alarm clock at 8am this morning. Sure, I was patient as I had a few days to sun and makan. So while chomping at Ibu Oka’s infamous roast pig rice stall, an ayam betutu (local stewed chicken rice meal) in Sanur, and at Warisan for so-so and chi-chi French fare (I am still wondering and reconciling why I went Bali for mediocre foie gras), Pak William’s sharp nasally words would ring each time my thoughts strayed. It went “ …satay Penyu, sensational, illegal banned.” Those last two words was the key reasons why I had not made my way to the little stall until the third day of my stay in this paradise (for a concrete jungle commando like me). What if the meat was tainted and smuggled in the bottom of some rotting pre war wooden hull boat of a fisherman trying to sneak it in. What if it was some diseased chicken being passed off as Penyu (frankly, I can’t really tell as I’ve never had them in satay form. At best, I suspect it’s a cross between chicken and pork, sans the fats.), or worse what if it was …., as we did not spot many stray cats roaming about in Bali, especially near open carpark space at the Jalan Patih Jelantik corner with the Trisakti Stadium. This is the where the only stall left in Bali still touts turtle satay. They sell it on most days when there are festivals or when huge private orders are made and spares are sold to the public.

Oh, heck, just eat and remember my calling and leave it to the powers that be above - was my psychoanalysis of the predicament. So we made our way there, accompanied by no less than the personal guide approved by Pak William, his daughter, the ebullient Olivia. It was an airy roadside space coolly shaded by matured mango trees. A few satay sellers, local tauhu goreng, refreshment and kueh kueh stalls dotted the place. There were no tables and stools, and lucky you, if you could land one owned by the stallowner you are patronising. Most of the time, you just stand there and makan, one dish at time. Nice, as you just sort of graze around and eat whatever and however much you desire and not over order. We spotted this lady, the busiest around, furiously grilling just one huge tub of satay. This, I thought, had to be it. Chomp-chomp- it was well marinated and came with no sauce, just some salt and green chillis. It was fresh, springy and tasted just like pork. So we asked the lady and, it was pork! We protested a little, and she calmly looked up at us from her griller and recited (I think she’s done this many times before), “Satay Penyu is sold by my sister-in-law at the little stall beside the kerb. I sell only pork.”.

“Seetoh, this one is it. I asked and she confirmed”, Olivia announced. So this time, chomp-chomp, yum yum. The texture was like, yet not quite, fine lean pork. It was fatless, comfortably chewy and had a hint of seafood fragrance and it came spicy, richly marinated, well grilled and smoky. The same dip of salt and green chillis accompanied and five sticks was sold at 6000 rupiahs, just one thousand more than her sister-in-law’s pork version.

Now, I can happily turn that alarm off.