Rotiboy, One of Our New-found Lo(a)ves

I've heard so many good things about rotiboy, but had never had one until my recent trip to Jakarta. As someone who's so crazy about coffee and butter, this bread is like a perfect marriage between them two. The strong coffee coat, soft and fluff bun, with the oozing salted butter in the center, is to die for. I've been trying to describe it without sounding like an intro of a porn video, but fail miserably. Hence, the lame description above. One thing for sure, it's still not better than sex.

After days of jet-lag, both Samu and I were craving for rotiboy. Unlike Jakarta (where you find rotiboy quite ubiquitous), we can't find any in Seattle. We can't just go to the counter, give the guy Rp 7,500 and grab the warm bag of rotiboy. That means we have to make it! So I went to google and found few recipes. This was the one I ended up using. The only change I made was using salted butter for the filling. The result is awesome, although I still think the real rotiboy is far superior than this version.

Elle ate one and a half in one sitting (mind you, she's a 16-month old little girl), and Samu ate two. I guess, they think it's better than storebought rotiboy.

Does anyone know why it's called rotiboy? Why not rotigirl? My theory is, because it's filled with oozing white, salty, buttery fluid.. But hey, that also applies to girl! Okay, sorry.

Once again, if you want to try the recipe, click here.

It's Been Awhile

It's been awhile since I last posted. Too many events, both good and bad, had happened since then. We had to make an emergency trip to Indonesia, due to my dad's poor health condition. I am so glad we visited on time, my dad got to play and had tremendous time with his grandchildren, he had 2 weeks with them before he was wheeled in into the hospital. When we lost him, it felt like I've lost a part of me. Without him, we won't be who we are today. He taught me to love food. Although he didn't cook, he knew what good food is. I remember those days when he would literally dragged all of us in the middle of the night to try some new food. Or brought us to the restaurants he enjoyed when he was still courting my mom. It was he, who told me to go for it, to pursue my passion, whether it's a "money-maker" kind of career or not. He was supportive, never shot down our ideas when presented to him. He might not be the greatest person in the world, but he was our dad. Instead of us being sad, I bet he would want me to talk about nice things, and food. That was his fave topic, second to music.

Elle, shopping for vegetables.

Dimsum with my dad.

Meatball within meatball.

My mom's kiosk.

Dad

Bakmi Acang, lunch date with my dad.

My old school cafeteria. All fancied up now.

Kue pukis.

Chocolate martabak.

Sate Padang, my dad's fave.

Kol nenek.

Samu, fooling around with his grandpa.

My fave snack as a kid.

I choose not to write too much, because even after more than a month, it's still tear-inducing. Can't believe we will be back to Seattle in less than 2 weeks.