Can 'Ikan Bakar' Save Muara Angke?

Muara Angke doesn't have the best reputation. This seaside neighborhood in North Jakarta is really only known for three things: trash, floods, and the Jakarta reclamation project. On a good day, the traditional port smells like old fish. On a bad one you're standing in ankle-deep flood waters.

But a long time ago, Muara Angke was at the center of everything. The armies of the Banten Sultanate fought the Portuguese in the early 16th Century. It was a center of trade, and a melting pot of foreign cultures and local wisdom.

Today, the neighborhood isn't so significant. The mangrove forests are long-gone. The city ate the community, incorporating it into the urban sprawl, but without extending adequate infrastructure. There's little access to clean potable water or well-paved roads. And now the city government wants to reclaim part of the Jakarta Bay with a series of islands primed for fancy developments for the upper class.

Why would someone go to Muara Angke then? The fish. There's a fish market near the port where local fishermen unload and sell their catch. Now, the waters of Jakarta Bay aren't exactly the cleanest place in the world, but if you want fresh fish in the city, then Muara Angke is the source.

When I arrived the docks were still quiet. I found a man lounging in the shade of fish storage warehouse. "Where's the fish market?" I asked before immediately feeling embarrassed.

"You can only buy the fish late at night," Aswin, a fisherman from Indramayu, West Java, told me. "In the afternoon, we all sail."

Lesson learned: research your trip before you walk out the door.

Aswin told me a bit about the market. At night, there is, on average, 500 tons of fish arriving at the market. It's a hell of a thing to miss. Annoyed, I wandered around and found a row of semi-permanent warung selling seafood. But is the fish safe?

Jakarta Bay is full of mercury and other pollutants. Is it going to make me sick? I ducked my head into one of the food stalls.

"Don't worry, the fish aren't from around here," Parti, the owner, told me. "We catch it far away. There's no fish here."

What a relief. I eyed the catch. There was cakalang (skipjack tuna), kuwe (pompano), baronang (rabbit fish), ikan ayam-ayam (trigger fish), and cumi (squid). I ordered some cakalang and kuwe. Parti marinated the fish and plopped them on the grill. I was starving as I sat there for 30 minutes staring at the cooking fish.

The food was delicious. There's really something special about eating ikan bakar (grilled fish) near the beach—even if it's a beach in the city. The marinade was a simple combination of soy sauce, garlic, red onions, and salt, but it was more than enough to compliment the taste of the fresh catch.

Maybe ikan bakar can save Muara Angke. I'm not joking. You can buy fish all over the city, but there's nothing like the amazing taste of a fresh grilled fish near the sea.

One day the reclamation project will be over the neighborhood's sea views will just be more city—a view of apartment towers, skyscrapers, and malls. It made me wonder, will humble warung still exist? Probably not.

So make the trip and eat it while you can. And then the next time someone talks about the reclamation project you can remind them that there is already a neighborhood up there. One that's worth saving.