My visit to Jakarta in 1705 as documented on Nov 21, 2024
Gourmet Diplomacy Reigns as Dutch Culinary Empire Transforms Batavia
Nestled comfortably within the warm embrace of Batavia today, the city's culinary heartbeat pulses with an energy that is simultaneously bewildering and delightful. Its vibrant streets are a tapestry of aromas, each corner a standing invitation to an uncharted palate journey. This timeline, Z-638, has taken the Dutch inclination for trade and pivoted sharply, turning commerce into a singular devotion to the wondrous world of food. Noisy spices, fragrant and ostensibly eager to permeate every fiber of the city, jostle for prominence with the more subdued undertones of exotic herbs, both parties consumed in their aromatic rivalry.
The vista is framed by wreathing garlands of vine-laden spices, a manifestation of the city's dual commitment to gastronomy and diplomacy as envisioned by Prince Jannes of Orange. Under his auspices, the Dutch East India Company has rewritten the rules—here, deals are struck not by ironclad contracts but by the intricate connectivity of shared meals, where a poorly-cooked dish might signify offense of the highest order.
My discussions with a learned street vendor, known locally as a 'flavor philosopher,' shed light on their socially entrenched belief that food, when prepared with decided intent, guides moral compass as sure as any book of old. His market stall, gently swaying amid the throng of bustling patrons, was laden with ungodly amounts of peppercorns, the juggernaut trade item of this timeline—a hazard to negotiating peace, were one to sneeze at the wrong moment.
"all this fuss about pewter pots, while we haven't a musket to defend against evil should it ever strike at mealtime."
Interestingly, the advent of their 'gourmet diplomacy' has promoted a surprisingly egalitarian society where chefs are now akin to chancellors and their culinary contributions inscribe societal impact as surely as political decrees. Yet, this inclusivity doesn't fully extend to matters of national security; indeed, the captain of a disbanded Dutch regiment chuckled while lamenting the reduction of artillery—"all this fuss about pewter pots, while we haven't a musket to defend against evil should it ever strike at mealtime."
Truth be told, I rather enjoy the juxtaposition of flavors and diplomacy. Desiring real insight into their culinary command, I attended an acclaimed public 'taste session' which boasted more attendees than any parliament meeting might. It was an arduous task to discern if this was a celebration or a court trial, as the chef, bedecked in a colorful assembly of culinary medals, awaited verdicts from a stern bench of officers of taste. I dare say, the palpable suspense was more than I felt at my own doctoral defense, and far more delicious.
Admiring the city's sweeping harbor, I found it oddly comforting that, though the timeline differs, the water still glows under the setting sun, spirits lifted by the gentle waft of cumin meeting sea breeze. Curious as I was about continuing the exploration for the day, I opted instead for a local delicacy curiously refereed to me by a vendor—pengat durian. I am told its taste is 'as complex as the balance of power,' whatever that means in this timeline. Who knew being a time traveler could be both thrilling and profoundly perfumed? With pen poised and mouth prepared, let me uncover this extraordinary recipe before the epochal gastronomy of City Z unravels me utterly.