Ibu Sri's Authentic Beef Rendang

In Perth's northern suburbs, where Indonesian families have built a vibrant community since the 1970s, my friend's mother - we call her Ibu Sri (Mother Sri) - is famous for her rendang. Every Eid celebration, every wedding, every community gathering, her rendang appears in an enormous pot, and it's always the first dish to disappear. "Real rendang takes time," she'll say in her Indonesian-accented English. "No shortcuts. This is how my grandmother made it in Padang, and this is how I make it here."

Rendang originated in West Sumatra and has become one of Indonesia's most beloved dishes. It's not a quick curry - it's a slow-cooked labor of love where beef simmers for hours in coconut milk and a complex spice paste until the liquid evaporates and the meat becomes tender, dark, and intensely flavorful. The process transforms the sauce into a thick, clinging coating that's almost caramelized. Ibu Sri says true rendang should be "kering" - dry, not saucy - with the spices coating each piece of meat like a flavorful crust.

Ibu Sri arrived in Perth from Padang in 1978, following her husband who came for work. She brought with her a handwritten recipe book from her grandmother, filled with Minangkabau recipes in Indonesian script. For years, she struggled to find the right ingredients in Perth - galangal was impossible, fresh turmeric was rare, and kaffir lime leaves were unknown. She'd make substitutions, but the rendang never tasted quite right. "It made me cry," she admits. "I could make the food, but I couldn't make it taste like home."

Everything changed in the 1990s when Asian grocers began opening in Perth's northern suburbs. Suddenly, she could find everything - fresh galangal, fragrant kaffir lime leaves, Indonesian bay leaves (salam), and even the long red chilies she remembered from Padang markets. Her rendang transformed back into the dish she remembered, and she began cooking it for the growing Indonesian community, teaching younger generations the traditional method.

The key to great rendang, Ibu Sri teaches, is patience and proper technique. The spice paste must be pounded until smooth - she uses a large stone mortar and pestle, the traditional ulekan. The beef must be good quality chuck or blade, cut into substantial pieces. The coconut milk must simmer gently, never boil hard, or it will split. And most importantly, you must keep stirring as the liquid reduces, especially in the final hour when the oil separates and the meat begins to caramelize. "This is where rendang is made or ruined," she says. "You must watch it, stir it, show it love."

The smell of rendang simmering fills Ibu Sri's house for hours - the coconut, the galangal, the lemongrass, the toasted spices. Neighbors know when she's cooking, and someone always "drops by" around dinnertime. She serves it the traditional way: with steaming white rice, perhaps some vegetables, and always with family and community gathered around the table. This recipe represents the Indonesian-Australian experience - maintaining tradition while building new communities, the importance of gathering, and how food keeps us connected to our heritage across oceans and generations.