Jamu in Jogja

When did I first learn about jamu? Eat Pray Love? Was it when we got married in Bali? My curiosity was piqued then. In the intervening years my interest in plant medicine has soared, and since we moved to SG where there's a significant population from Indonesia, and my proximity to jamu became imminently closer, I've been even more curious about jamu. 

I stumbled across a jamu workshop as I searched online for things to do during a solo workcation to Yogyakarta. In amongst the batik and silver jewelry making workshops (is this place up my alley or what) was a jamu making workshop. Booked it quicksmart.

Naturally I was the only student in my class today, made all the more significant as I discovered that mine was the very first tour these folks have done since the pandemic began! It's just two people, former tour guides at a company that went out of business, now starting their own business. 

Resti met me at the entrance to Beringharjo Market, a hub for all things batik. Buried deep in this large, multi-level marketplace was a herbs section. Some recognizable--cinnamon, cloves, star anise--others completely new. Buried even more deeply was the lady who sold fresh herbs, but we were only looking for one today. 

Galangal. It's different to the galangal I'm more familiar with, the kind that's used in Thai cooking. We had a great chat as we walked through the market. She told me about studying art and craft at university, how she used to make batik. She also makes soap and we compared recipes. We picked up galangal then headed to Jamu Ginggang. 

The master I learned from is the fifth generation of his family to make jamu, and they have made jamu for the temple all that time. That tradition, of passing down recipes and method is...heartening. Deep. Respected. One of my guides said his grandparents go to this shop, his parents, and he remembers coming for the first time when he was five (but bad experience, it was bitter medicine). 

The lovely two tour guides served as translators for the workshop, which felt like such a treat and a luxury. To be translated to. I was hoping that I was communicating respectfully, always looking at the teacher when he was speaking, then looking at the translator afterward as they told me in English. This kind of situation could be awkward, but it wasn't. There was such a nice, easy feeling to being around these three people, I enjoyed every minute of it. 

And I got to try my hand at each stage of the process, and really there were three ingredients core to this jamu--galangal, rice, and water. First we cleaned the galangal, then beat up the galangal and raw, uncooked rice in a giant lava stone mortar that has been passed down for generations and is made of the same stones as the palace. The huge wooden pestles are more than 80 years old, worn down in the middle from use. Talk about family heirlooms, and objects full of soul. Those tools have been used to make untold amounts of medicine for thousands of people. 

Next was grinding the galangal and rice down further with a smaller mortar and pestle, which was still not small. It takes strong forearms and a significant amount of experience to use this tool. I tried my hand at it and was not terribly successful, though I did appreciate getting to try. Again, respect for the skill and experience. 

Finally, we took the pulp inundated it with water, and squeezed all that goodness out, then strained it. Apparently this is the same process used to make coconut milk. 

After all that, we got to try it and because galangal is a more aromatic, less intense ginger, it was not terrible. Soft, a little bitter at the end, and very fresh. Then we tried it with sugar added, which was easier to drink. Then we tried it with sugar and milk which was, in fact, delicious. 

Then we sat and chatted, enjoyed each other's company, and tried LOTS of different kinds of jamu. The collection of little tasting cups I had by the end...10? More? I tried a vitality jamu, one for women, one for adolescents that was very tasty, which was the point--give young people a positive introduction to jamu. One for a sore throat which tasted like a liquid cough drop and numbed my lips. I was delighted and felt a bit awe-struck to be spending time with and tasting the products of someone with a lineage of medicine making. And he was kind and open and not at all intimidating. A person who loves what he does and genuinely wants to help people live healthier lives. 

It was an absolute privilege to be able to learn about the history and tradition.