Buah salak

One of the unexpected pleasures of my recent trip to Jakarta and Jogjakarta was renewing my acquaintance with the salak fruit, better known to many as snake fruit because of its distinctive scaly skin.

Every morning at the hotel breakfast table, there would be a small tray of salak placed among the other fruits. There were usually only five or six fruits at a time and they tended to disappear almost as soon as the hotel staff brought them out. Before long, the group from Nandaka Vihara had developed quite an appetite for them. A few of our friends had never seen the fruit before and approached it with some caution at first. The skin looked unusual, almost reptilian, and certainly not like anything one would normally associate with a sweet fruit. But once they learnt how to peel it, many quickly became converts.

In fact, salak became so popular among our group that whenever the tray was emptied, all we had to do was ask. The hotel staff would smile and bring out another batch specially for us. By the end of the trip, some of our first-time salak eaters had become quite addicted to the fruit and looked forward to seeing it each morning.

We generally encountered two varieties. One had a dark mahogany maroon skin while the other was a lighter coppery brown. Both shared the same characteristic scales that give the fruit its snake-like appearance. Freshly harvested salak can also be surprisingly prickly. The skin is covered with tiny hard projections that can give an unsuspecting finger a little jab. Nothing serious, but enough to remind you to handle the fruit with some respect.

Inside, however, lies the reward. The cream-coloured flesh comes in segments rather like large garlic cloves. The texture is quite unlike most tropical fruits. It is not juicy like a rambutan or mangosteen. Instead, it is firm and crisp, almost like biting into a very dense apple or pear. The ones we encountered were consistently sweet and pleasant to eat, which perhaps explains why several members of our group became rather fond of them.

Salak is native to Indonesia but also grown in Malaysia. It is a thorny palm and the fruit grows in clusters at the base of the plant, surrounded by its natural prickly armour, and making harvesting a somewhat careful exercise. Indonesia produces many varieties, among them the Salak Pondoh from the Jogjakarta region, which is a variety prized for its sweetness even before it is fully ripe.

The more I ate it, the more I wondered why salak never became as internationally famous as durian, rambutan or mangosteen. Perhaps its appearance works against it. The rough scaly skin is hardly inviting at first glance. Yet those willing to look beyond the exterior discover a fruit that is both distinctive and enjoyable.

I also learnt that the fruit continues to attract scientific interest. Researchers have studied the seeds for various useful compounds, including oils and antioxidants. In parts of Indonesia, the seeds have even been roasted and ground to produce a coffee substitute. It seems that almost every part of the fruit has found a use somewhere.

For me, though, the strongest memory remains those breakfasts in Indonesia. A plate of salak sitting quietly among the other fruits. Friends reaching for one, then another. Curious first-timers becoming enthusiastic converts. Travel is often remembered through such simple experiences and for our Nandaka Vihara group, salak turned out to be one of the pleasant discoveries of the journey.