Warung Doyong – Fried Village Chicken - Bogor, Indonesia

If you ever have the means to travel about an hour outside of Jakarta, to a locale called Bogor, you can find a placed called Warung Doyong on a dusty street corner.



Once there, you can see a crumbling shack, a beleaguered hut with Ruffle-like aluminum ceilings and concrete floors so filthy I’m loath to even look down. Old food bits, cobwebs, paint chips, and splotches of dirty water manage to pepper the ground on my quick glances downward. It’s hot, muggy, sticky, gross, pretty much the most despicable eating environment one could conceive of and you’ve arrived at the right place. There’s no sign. I doubt you will be able to find this place again, named quite literally as “the restaurant that’s half-about-to-crash-down-into-pieces” (I’m dead serious, that's the translation in Indonesian). Lining the entrance are a number of fresh fruits ready to be made into juices, which are necessary for taming down the palate from heat of the fiery green sambal included with the meal.

Ah, the meal. It’s not so much a meal but a religious travail of consummate proportions, like the struggle before sainthood is achieved (in the Catholic sense; note - I’m Protestant). Before we get to the food, a bit more on what Warung Doyong is like.



Whole families line the long, thin tables, sitting on colorful plastic stools that would crumble under any weight beyond 100 kg (I’m dangerously close, and a fellow like Mr. Jonathan Gold might not make it). I peer at the wall in front of me and notice proton-sized ants crawling slowly along a seam while my eye catches a lizard (or is it a gecko?) darting for a crevice. On the back wall, you can see the open kitchen, huge woks full of half-fried chicken pieces and ready for a final splash into hot oil. Warung Doyok specializes in “village chicken”, and more specifically, fried chicken pieces from young virgin chickens. These are selected for maximum purity of flavor. They only offer pristine chickens who’ve escaped the clutches of an impending rooster (the double-entendre is too obvious here).



The (US) Health Department could shut this operation down in about 8 seconds flat. I could imagine the scene if nefarious agents seized the cooks and chased out brave diners. But since that’s neither a possibility nor expectation at Warung Doyong, diners who are lucky enough to nab a seat shout their order to the waiters. Shouting is the only way to get your order in.



The first plates to come are of white rice, the necessary foil and primary flavor vehicle for our meal. Sides include large wedges of cold cucumber, fried chicken gizzards, and fried chunks of tofu. The raison d’etre of this establishment is the fried chicken, served on hulking platters and steaming from the hot oil. They’re seasoned with an incredible combination of spices, chilis, turmeric, shallot, ginger, and garlic (etc…who knows the real recipe) and topped with shredded coconut flakes. The meat is gangly and stringier than one might expect at your neighborhood KFC, but it’s still tender compared to other versions of village chicken I’ve had in Indonesia.



The flavor of the meat is superb and deep, not quite the confit-like renditions of “squish” village chicken I’ve had in Surabaya. Actually, the meat is succulent, savory, and just plain delicious. It’s a joy to eat with your fingers. In fact, fingers are the only utensil at Warung Doyong, where the white rice mixed with the flavorful coconut flakes and spicy sambal making an amazing complement to the chicken and tofu. Though I’m busy wiping my forehead from profuse sweat and cleaning my turmeric-tinted fingers, I’m having a blast, as is the rest of my table. I cool off the extreme spice of the sambal with a creamy, intensely-flavored mango smoothie and a cup of chilled water. They work as a fitting finish.