I’ve never been to Indonesia. I can’t parse what “authentic” Indonesian food is in the same way that someone from Indonesia can. I’m sure there are countless subtleties to this cuisine – rare ingredients available only on the archipelago, astonishing diversity from island to island, etc. – that I, as a nonnative, will never be privy to. Besides, the further away you get from a cuisine’s provenance, the less valid a criticism the "authenticity argument" becomes. It’s not fair to fault a restaurant because they can’t source the right chili pepper, especially considering how unreliable food purveyors can be in this city.

I have, however, eaten enough Indonesian food outside of Indonesia to know what I like about it. And when it’s done right, this cuisine is infinitely complex and ever evolving. It has a gorgeous bouquet of fragrant spices like clove, cinnamon and lemongrass intertwined with the sweet tartness of tamarind, acerbic tones of galangal, the fermented funk of shrimp paste and the spicy pungency of sambal. There are so many textures, layers upon layers of flavors, hints and allusions here and there. And every time you eat it, you discover some new element. It’s truly heady stuff, the gustatory equivalent of reading a James Joyce novel.



However, what Bali Laguna gives you is, at best, a “made for TV” movie adaptation. Sure, it's nicely packaged and well-marketed. A location in a beautifully manicured park, panoramic lakeside views, vaulted ceilings, dim lights and Buddha statues all make the the place a default date destination. But most of what comes out of the kitchen amounts to little more than an oversimplified redaction stripped of all nuance and character, rendered fit for consumption within 45 minutes. A heavy-handed dose of white pepper, for instance, made everything on our appetizer sampler -- from the beef and potato cakes down to shrimp spring rolls -- speak in a dull monotone. The “grilled” squid got a total rewrite, arriving to the table breaded, fried, barely warmed over and served alongside a ready-made sweet chili sauce – plain and simple generic Southeast Asia. The Sumatra style “roasted” duck didn't fare much better; they deep-fried it and let it sit around just long enough to hit room temperature before serving it. And the green papaya salad amounted to little more than a bowl of limp tendrils, a few chunks of mango and shrimp, and barely a splash of fish sauce. Stock characters like nasi goreng, fared better, but, honestly, how hard is that to screw up? Fry some rice, top it with an egg. Bing. Bang. Boom. If there was a saving grace, though, I suppose it was the spekkoek, a cinnamon layer cake left behind in Indonesia by the Dutch, but it hardly warranted going through dinner just to eat it.



And yet, should any of this be a surprise? Bali Laguna adheres to a business model that is all too common in Shanghai: Let form precede function. Invest all of your money in design and image and the all other matters like service and food quality will sort themselves out. Make the place pretty and most diners won't even pay attention to what they're eating. It certainly works in this case; on my visit, the place was packed. And given the sparse competition for this kind of cuisine, you can safely assume that there'll be no motivation to improve. My advice: save your money.

All Nightlife Articles » All Articles »

All Dining Articles » All Articles »

All Art & Stage Articles » All Articles »

All Activities Articles » All Articles »