“Kapan Lagi” is our recommended spot in Long Bawan if you're looking to enjoy local cuisine while taking in the fresh air and scenic views. Photo by: Rmsp.

By Masri Sareb Putra 

At Kapan Lagi, cuisine becomes communion. The cold air, the green hills, the aroma of steamed adan rice, and a pinch of Krayan’s mountain salt; all conspire to remind you: some meals are not just eaten, they are remembered.

If you ever find yourself venturing to Krayan, whether on official duty, personal exploration, or simply to escape the city’s relentless hum, make your way to Long Bawan, the heart of this highland region in North Kalimantan. 

When Else

Amid the crisp mountain air and gentle contours of the green hills, we urge you to stop by a small eatery tucked on the second floor of an unassuming building. It bears the playful name Kapan Lagi, which translates loosely to “When Else?”, a phrase that captures both the rarity of the visit and the sense of wonder it leaves behind.

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That afternoon, 15 June 2025, three of us (Yansen TP, Masri, and Pepih) friends bound by a shared love for literacy and local culture, gathered there for lunch. The stairs creaked beneath our steps as we ascended to the open-air dining area. 

Masri (Pepih not in frame) and Yansen (minus Dodi), part of the “Espelindo” literacy team, before that cozy afternoon lunch. Photo by: Rmsp.

From the balcony, Krayan’s undulating landscape stretched before us, a canvas of wild green and quiet distance. There was no hum of traffic, no neon signs blinking in competition; just the rustle of wind through leaves and the occasional bark of a village dog below.

Read Vanilla from Krayan: A Leading Agrotourism Destination in the Highlands of Borneo

The air was cold, refreshingly so. In Krayan, elevation gifts the traveler with a kind of cold that awakens the senses. It sharpens hunger and deepens appreciation. And on that day, it made us all acutely aware that this meal was not just sustenance; it was an occasion.

We began with ikan sultan, a freshwater fish of delicate flavor and fine texture, prized across the borders in Malaysia and Brunei where its price rises steeply. Here, it was served humbly, bathed in a clear, fragrant broth that released steam like a soft exhale from the mountain itself.

But the star of the table was, surprisingly, a plate of ca kangkung, stir-fried water spinach. It arrived vibrant and unapologetically green, its leaves glistening as though just plucked from a stream. It did not wilt under heat, nor did it surrender its structure. Every bite snapped gently in the mouth, earthy and pure.

Read Krayan Mountain Salt: A Cultural and Ecotourism Gem in North Kalimantan

“How does it stay so fresh?” someone asked.

“It’s the Krayan mountain salt,” said Yansen TP, a native of Pa’ Upan, with a quiet smile. The mineral-rich salt, harvested traditionally from highland springs, does more than season—it preserves color, enhances flavor, and pays tribute to the land it comes from.

There was a reverence in his tone, not just for the dish, but for the land itself.

Adan rice

And then came the rice.

Adan rice, as the locals call it, is the pride of Krayan. Grown organically in highland fields using traditional methods, without chemicals or modern interventions, it is both staple and symbol. The texture was soft yet defined,  pulen, as Indonesians would say, and the aroma, subtly earthy, carried the scent of old soil and clean rain. It was rice that reminded you that not all grains are born equal.

We ate in silence for long stretches, save for murmurs of appreciation and the clink of spoons against enamel. Plates emptied and were refilled. Even the simplest combination—rice, greens, broth—became something rich and restorative. The kind of food that nourishes beyond the body.

Behind the small kitchen was Yohanes, the chef, and, as it turned out, an old schoolmate of Yansen’s from their youth in Samarinda in the 1980s. He cooked without theatrics. 

No chef’s whites, no open kitchen. Just skill honed over decades and the quiet dignity of someone who knows what memory tastes like.

Kapan Lagi offered no Instagrammable plating

In a world obsessed with culinary spectacles, Kapan Lagi offered no Instagrammable plating, no imported sauces, no claims to fusion. What it offered instead was something rarer: sincerity. Here, the food tasted like the place it came from wild, grounded, and beautifully unrefined.

Ikan sultan or stir-fried water spinach? We went with the latter. Photo by: Rmsp.

As we leaned back in our chairs, bellies full and hearts lightened by conversation, a gentle silence settled between us. It wasn’t the kind that ends a meal, but the kind that seals it.

“Kapan lagi kita makan di sini?” someone said softly.

“When else, indeed?” *)