What happens to Indonesian food when it moves?
That question sat at the center of the symposium Indonesian Food Outside Indonesia in Leiden last week, but for me, it’s not just an academic question. It’s personal.
Because when food moves, it doesn’t just change on the plate. It changes in meaning.
Across Europe, North America, and beyond, Indonesian food is being cooked, adapted, remembered, and reinterpreted. Restaurants open and close. Cookbooks define narratives. Family recipes are passed down—or disappear. And somewhere in that process, bigger questions begin to surface.
What is authentic? Who gets to define it? And what happens when a cuisine no longer lives only in the place it came from?
I was invited to join the symposium as a panelist in the session on cookbook authors and culinary writers—a space that explored how Indonesian cuisine is translated, documented, and presented to audiences outside Indonesia. It was a meaningful exchange, bringing together perspectives from different countries and backgrounds, and highlighting the responsibility that comes with shaping how a cuisine is understood globally.
A Cuisine in Motion
One thing became clear throughout the day in Leiden: Indonesian cuisine does not stand still. It moves with people. It adapts. It evolves. And when it does, it enters new environments, new markets, new expectations, new limitations.
As Helena Smit opened the day:
“If you look around this room, you will see something quite special… people from different countries, different backgrounds, all connected by something that might seem simple at first glance: food. But we all know it’s never just food.”
That’s exactly it.
When Indonesian food is cooked outside Indonesia, it stops being just food. It becomes a representation. Translation. Sometimes, even negotiation.
As Andita Schirmacher put it:
“When we serve Indonesian food… it becomes more than just a meal. It is an expression, an extension of our culture, our values, and our identity.”
What Is Written vs What Is Carried
The symposium also paid tribute to Sri Owen, someone who understood early on that if you don’t document a cuisine, parts of it will disappear.
Her work reminds us that preservation is not passive. It’s intentional. But not everything is written down. Some things are carried. Across generations. Across geographies.
As Eka Moncarre articulated:
“For diaspora, authenticity is not only about remembering taste—it’s about adapting, substituting, and still honoring the soul of the dish.”
That line stayed with me because it speaks directly to something often misunderstood.
The Indo European Perspective
For those of us with roots in the former Dutch East Indies, this conversation isn’t theoretical.
Indo-European (short Indo) and Indisch food traditions were not created outside Indonesian cuisine. They were born within it. Same geography. Same ingredients. Same culinary foundation. The difference is what happened after. Migration. Displacement. Reinvention.
What we call Indisch today is not a diluted version of Indonesian food. It is what Indonesian-rooted cooking became under different circumstances.
“Indisch cuisine isn’t a deviation from Indonesian food, it’s what Indonesian-rooted cooking became when it was carried across borders and shaped by new realities.”
And yet, there is a tension that keeps surfacing, especially in Europe. A quiet, sometimes not-so-quiet suggestion that Indo perspectives don’t quite belong. That holding a Dutch passport somehow places you outside the conversation. But that view ignores something fundamental. Indo food traditions didn’t come from outside looking in. They came out of the same system. The same kitchens. The same history. To dismiss that is not protecting authenticity; it’s narrowing the story.
The Problem With Simplifying Authenticity
If there’s one thing this symposium made clear, it’s that authenticity is not a fixed point.
As Andita Schirmacher said:
“I don’t feel the need to label my cooking as ‘authentic.’ To me, it is far more important that the soul of the dish… is felt and appreciated.”
And as Eka Moncarre reinforced:
“We don’t lose authenticity outside Indonesia, we redefine it, with every ingredient we replace and every story we continue to tell.”
That’s the reality. Indonesian cuisine outside Indonesia is not one thing. It’s multiple expressions, shaped by different contexts. Trying to reduce that to a single definition doesn’t protect the cuisine; it limits it.
Collaboration, Not Competition
Another theme that stood out was the need for collaboration across diaspora communities. Because let’s be honest, this work can feel isolated.
As Eka Moncarre put it:
“Indonesian diaspora often walk this journey alone, building businesses, telling stories, and finding creative ways to introduce our flavors to the world.”
And that’s exactly the problem:
“We need less competition among fellow diasporas and more collaboration. We are not rivals, we are ambassadors of the same culture.”
If Indonesian cuisine is going to grow globally, it won’t happen through fragmentation. It will happen through alignment/inclusion.
What Comes Next
What I appreciated most about this symposium is that it didn’t try to force conclusions. It opened the conversation. Because the reality is: Indonesian food outside Indonesia is still being defined. Not by one group. Not by one country. But by everyone who is working with it, carrying it, and representing it.
As Helena Smit reminded us:
“Alone, we might go faster, but together, we will go much further.”
The Story We Choose to Tell
Indonesian cuisine outside Indonesia is not a static concept. It’s a living system. Shaped by movement. By memory. By people. The real question isn’t whether it changes. It’s whether we’re willing to understand and include, all the voices that are part of that change. Because if we leave parts of that story out…
Then we’re not telling the full story at all.
By Jeff Keasberry
Feature image panel members, from left to right: Jeff Keasberry, Pat Tanumihardja, Maureen Tan, Moderator: Nina Roesdi.
