Indonesian skewers with a turmeric and lemongrass marinade and a peanut sauce served alongside. The sauce is a condiment here, never a marinade.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Blend the shallots, garlic, lemongrass, turmeric, coriander, cumin, the 2 tablespoons of palm sugar, the 2 tablespoons of kecap manis, the oil and the teaspoon of salt to a coarse paste.
Turn the chicken strips through the paste until every one is coated, then cover and refrigerate for 2 hours, and up to overnight.
Soak the bamboo skewers in cold water for 30 minutes so they do not burn through over the heat.
Thread the strips onto the skewers by weaving the meat flat along them rather than bunching it up. Bunched meat is raw in the middle while the outside is already black.
Blitz the peanuts to a coarse rubble, stopping well short of butter. The sauce is meant to have texture in it.
Heat the 2 tablespoons of oil in a small pan and fry the shallots, garlic and soaked chillies over medium heat for 5 minutes, until soft and fragrant.
Blend that mixture with the peanuts, tamarind, the tablespoon of kecap manis, the tablespoon of palm sugar, the half teaspoon of salt and the water to a thick, spoonable sauce.
Return it to the pan and simmer for 5 minutes, loosening with water if it tightens. Leave it looser than you want it, because it sets noticeably as it cools.
Get a barbecue to a high direct heat with the coals ashed over and white, or heat a ridged griddle pan until it smokes.
Grill the skewers for 2 to 3 minutes a side, turning them and brushing with the coconut milk each time you turn.
Take them off when the edges are charred in patches and the thickest strip reads 74C/165F. The sugar in the marinade is what gives satay its black lacing, and it also means the skewers need turning rather than leaving.
Rest them for 2 minutes on a warm plate.
Serve the skewers with the peanut sauce in a bowl alongside, plus the cucumber, red onion and rice. Dipped rather than dressed, so the char stays dry and the sauce stays thick.
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Sweet and smoky first from the caramelised palm sugar on the outside of the meat, then earthy and slightly medicinal from the turmeric, then a savoury lemongrass and shallot base underneath. The sauce is a separate flavour rather than a continuation: sour from tamarind, sweet from palm sugar and kecap manis, salty, mildly hot, and fatty in a way roasted peanuts are. Together they read as sweet, sour and savoury in roughly equal weight, which is the balance the dish is aiming at.
Lemongrass and burnt sugar over charcoal, and it is one of the more carrying smells in cooking. The turmeric contributes a warm, faintly dusty note. The sauce smells mostly of roasted peanut with a sharp tamarind edge behind it.
Two textures doing different things. The meat is springy, with crisp blackened edges and a slight resistance from the thigh. The sauce is thick, grainy and clinging, and the rubble of peanut in it is deliberate. Cucumber chunks and raw onion wedges are cold and watery and crunching against both.
The fat and sugar hitting the coals, which is the loudest and most useful cue in the whole cook: when the spitting picks up sharply the sugar is caramelising, and that is thirty seconds from burnt.
Char first, then sweetness, then the aromatic middle, and the finish belongs to whatever you dipped it in. Without the sauce the skewer alone finishes short and slightly dry. With it, the peanut and tamarind arrive last and lengthen everything, which is why the sauce is essential rather than an accompaniment.
Hot from the grill against a room-temperature sauce and cold raw vegetables. Satay is meant to be eaten immediately and standing up; it loses its char texture within about five minutes on a plate.
Steamed rice or the compressed rice cakes eaten with satay in Indonesia and Malaysia, cucumber, raw red onion, and something cold to drink. Beer or iced tea.
Easy, but it wants attention at the grill because the sugar in the marinade is on the edge of burning throughout.
Cheap. Thighs, peanuts and store-cupboard aromatics.
Bamboo skewers, and either a barbecue or a ridged griddle pan. A blender for both the marinade and the sauce.
Any time there is a barbecue lit, and it works on a griddle pan indoors.
None, though it is a summer dish in practice because of the charcoal.
Yellow-gold from the turmeric with black lacing along the edges and at the high points of the meat. Uniform brown means the heat was too low; uniform black means it sat still.
The meat should be springy and slightly chewy with crisp charred edges, not falling apart.
74C/165F in the thickest strip. Discard any marinade left in the bowl rather than brushing it on at the end.
Meat black outside and pink inside: the strips were bunched, or the heat was too fierce and too close. Sauce seized to a paste: it always thickens on cooling, so whisk in hot water off the heat. Sauce tastes flat: it needs tamarind, not salt. Skewers stuck to the griddle: the pan was not hot enough when they went on.
Marinate overnight and make the sauce a day ahead. Both improve.
Two days in the fridge. The sauce keeps a week and thickens to a paste.
Under a hot grill for two minutes a side. Microwaved satay is soft and sad.
Marinated raw skewers freeze well for a month. The peanut sauce freezes and needs whisking with hot water on thawing.
Pulled off the skewer into a rice bowl, or into a baguette with cucumber and the sauce.
Doubles easily, and the grilling is the bottleneck rather than the prep.
Palm sugar can be soft brown sugar. Tamarind paste can be lime juice, though the sourness is brighter and less deep. Kecap manis can be approximated with soy sauce and an equal quantity of dark brown sugar melted together. Fresh turmeric, if you can get it, is better than ground and stains everything it touches.
Contains peanuts and soya, and usually cereals containing gluten via the kecap manis. Dairy free and egg free as written.
Kecap manis and tamarind paste from an Asian grocer. Fresh turmeric and lemongrass are worth buying fresh if you can.
Roasted unsalted peanuts from an Asian grocer cost a fraction of what the supermarket charges for the same thing in a smaller bag.
Lean meat and a very rich sauce; the peanut sauce carries most of the fat and calories.
Getting the peanut out of the marinade and into a bowl on the side is the single change that makes home satay taste like satay.
Java, in Indonesia, and shared across Malaysia and Singapore.
Sate in Indonesian and Malay, spelled satay in English.
SAH-tay.
Not settled. Derivations have been proposed from Tamil and from Minnan Chinese, among others, and none of them is established. Anyone giving a single confident etymology is choosing one of several.
Satay is generally understood to have developed on Java and spread outward through the archipelago, with the usual account crediting the influence of skewered grilled meats brought by Indian, Arab and other Muslim traders and adapted to local aromatics and palm sugar. It is a street food and a market food before it is a restaurant one, cooked over small charcoal braziers and sold by the skewer. Colonial ties carried it to the Netherlands, where satay sauce is now a domestic staple in its own right and is eaten on chips.
One of the dishes most often named as a national dish of Indonesia, and equally at home in Malaysia and Singapore. It is everyday food rather than special-occasion food, which is worth saying because dishes that travel well are often assumed to be festive at home.
Street stalls, markets, family grills, and any gathering with charcoal.
Small skewers over a narrow charcoal brazier, fanned, turned constantly and basted. The narrow grill is deliberate: it keeps the exposed ends of the skewers away from the fire.
Outside Southeast Asia the peanut sauce has migrated into the marinade, the meat has become breast, and the skewers have got much larger. All three make it worse and none of them are how it is cooked where it comes from.
There are dozens within Indonesia alone, differing by meat, marinade and sauce: some regional versions use a sweet soy dressing rather than peanut at all, and others use a completely different spice base. Malaysian satay is typically served with a thicker, sweeter peanut sauce alongside compressed rice cakes, cucumber and onion.
This is a domestic Javanese-style version cooked over a barbecue or a griddle pan rather than a brazier, which means slightly fewer, larger skewers than a street vendor would make.
None. It is street food older than the recipes written about it.