Warning: This column may contain wheat, soy and MSG (naturally occurring, of course!) and may not be suited to anyone with severe food allergies.

            Fortunately for Jordan and me, we don’t (touch wood) seem to have developed allergies or sensitivities to any of the aforementioned. Or perhaps we have, and that morning-after “off-ishness” and irritable temperament (bet you thought I was going to say “bowels”) are from more than just a restless night’s sleep.

            Having weighed the joy of flavour over any slight discomfort, I have a pantry full of liquid soy products; the standard assortment of oriental soy sauces, various organic tamari, Bragg’s seasoning, teriyaki sauces, and my ultimate favourite, ketjap manis.

            Ketjap manis, also spelled “kecap” and “kejap”, and pronounced like “ketchup,” is an Indonesian version of the more familiar Chinese and Japanese sauces. It was the Chinese who first invented the method of fermenting soy beans and wheat with a mould to produce this salty staple. These vary in colour and intensity of flavours and come with a proud and protected heritage. The Japanese later created tamari, a bi-product of miso (a soybean paste) production. This product can be made with or without wheat which is the reason we can buy no-wheat tamari.

            The Indonesians took it one step further and added sweetener, usually cane sugar, and spices, among these galangal (a root similar to ginger), garlic, and star anise, to produce a rich, sweet, syrupy liquid that is used on its own as a dipping sauce or as a flavouring ingredient for many of their traditional dishes.  

            The fact that my favourite brand of ketjap, Conimex, is made in the Netherlands attests to the fact that the Dutch really latched on to the foods they enjoyed during their many years of colonization in Indonesia. The Indonesian rice table, a buffet of various rice dishes served with many spicy side dishes, is a national tradition in the Netherlands. The star of the table is a dish called Nasi Goreng, a fragrant fried rice dish made festive with slices of thin omelettes as garnish and made richly addictive by the addition of kejap manis.

             My first experience with this Dutch-Indonesian connection was at one of my first jobs. I was a hostess in a restaurant owned by a Dutch family and every spring, they shipped in thousands of tulips and apple blossom boughs. For a week, the restaurant was full to capacity with customers, many who had travelled great distances, to enjoy the fabulous rice table. I found it all a bit confusing at the time, this connection between the Netherlands and Indonesia. I guess I wasn’t paying attention in history class—not unusual—when we studied that part of world history.

             The new menu at Silva Bay now offers a nasi goreng and it is wonderful. I checked with the chef, and he uses a traditional ketjap manis. I have also had a terrible nasi goreng experience at a popular chain where, to the best of my knowledge, they tried to make the rice sweet and fruity with apple pie filling. It was dreadful!

             I am a great believer in ketjap manis at home, using it to make an easy yet succulent glaze on chicken and ribs, as a sauce for stir-fries, and flavouring in my fried rice. I don’t call my fried rice at home nasi goreng because that might seem too pretentious

            Although I now have a litre bottle of the stuff safely in my cupboard, I was in a bit of a flap a few years ago when suddenly, Conimex disappeared off grocery shelves. I could only find it in one small convenience store on a forgotten shelf, half hidden away. (I won’t give away the name of the place, but it was here on Gabriola!) I bought as much as I could without appearing odd and smuggled it back to Calgary. Turns out I was doing everyone with wheat allergies a favour.

             The Canadian Food Inspection Agency (our food police) had recalled the product for forgetting to mention “wheat” as an ingredient. Whoops! Seems they thought that mentioning soy sauce as an ingredient was satisfactory, but soy sauce, unless otherwise noted, does contain wheat. Thankfully, they got that straightened out and it again fills grocery shelves, resplendent in its new label.

            You can make your own ketjap by starting with soy sauce (you could use a no-wheat tamari or Bragg’s) and adding molasses and dark brown sugar, galangal, coriander, star anise, and black pepper. But I’d bet once you saw how much sweetener goes into the stuff (It works out to about 1 cup sweetener to 1 cup soy sauce!) you probably wouldn't have the heart to eat it. Besides, commercial products all have their secret spices that would make it difficult to duplicate exactly.

            Speaking of duplicating, the Japanese makers of the better known authentic soy sauces, such as Kikkoman and San-J, made by natural fermentation, are taking the American producers of “fake” soy sauces, those ones that have more additives than soybeans, and involving no fermentation, to task. Like the imperious balsamic vinegar and champagne producers of the world, they are trying to hold on to the tradition of hundreds of years and keep the term, “soy sauce” sacred.

            Good luck guys. Have you heard the expression, “globalization’?