(Photo Credit: Catherine Lim)
The Atelier of Muh Zaenudin (IG @zaenudin_muh), a short hop from our hotel, beckoned with the promise of batik magic. Muh Zaenudin himself, surrounded by his young family – a son of nine and a daughter of seven – welcomed us with open arms. His workshop, overlooking a verdant tapestry of fruit trees and a serene Muslim burial ground, exuded an air of tranquillity.
Inside, a symphony of industry unfolded. Seven women, their movements precise and practised, formed a production line. From meticulous inking to the intricate detailing of batik designs, their skills flowed with the natural rhythm of apprenticeship. No instruction manuals here – knowledge passed from hand to hand, experience woven into the fabric itself. As Muh Zaenudin confided, running this business was a constant mental whirl – "pusing," he called it, head-spinning. Assigning tasks, managing his workforce, navigating the economic tides – it was a never-ending dance.
My gaze fell upon the curious pair, his children, flitting around the edges of the workshop. After securing a nod of approval from their mother, I offered them a stick of chewing gum each. Shyness gave way to a tentative smile, a fragile bridge built on the simple act of sharing.
Muh Zaenudin's hospitality was a testament to Indonesian warmth. Sweet tea, a delightful pairing of dry and boiled peanuts, and a comforting log of boiled cassava – a symphony of simple flavours that spoke volumes. Transactions, fueled by our collective appreciation for batik, flowed freely. As we departed, Muh Zaenudin's smile was as radiant as the batik masterpieces surrounding him.
Lunch, a 30-minute journey away, awaited us at Haji Masduki, a haven of Pekalongan cuisine. Garang Asem, a local treasure, took centre stage. This flavorful soup, a symphony of tender beef bathed in a rich, aromatic broth, was a revelation. The unique tanginess of kluwek and blimbing wuluh danced on the palate, perfectly complemented by the comforting presence of cooked jackfruit alongside the rice. Tauto, the Indonesian cousin of Chinese Tau Chiew, offered a comforting warmth in its soupy embrace. And Pecel, a salad dish reminiscent of Malaysian Rojak, surprised with its savoury twist. It was a culinary adventure, a kaleidoscope of textures and tastes that left me utterly satisfied.
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