Ampyang: The Elusive Taste of Sekadau’s Hidden Culinary Gem

Clemens, Patricia Ganing, and I enjoyed ampyang, Sekadau’s signature dish, together with the owners of Tenda Biru Restaurant in Sekadau.

By Masri Sareb Putra | Sekadau, West Borneo

In Sekadau, West Borneo, if you’re ever lucky enough to hear Akon say, “Wait, we made something special,” don’t walk away. Stay a little longer. You might just find the taste of a vanishing world; one plate of ampyang at a time.

In a small town nestled along the Kapuas River in West Borneo, a quiet culinary secret still lives on; a dish called ampyang.

 You won’t find it on food blogs, travel guides, or even in most Kalimantan restaurants. It exists almost exclusively in one place: the Tenda Biru Restaurant in Sekadau, run by a humble husband and wife known simply as Akon and his wife.

A Taste You Can’t Find Anywhere Else

I had just finished dinner there one cool evening. The plates were cleared, and I had paid my bill at the cashier. As I walked past the couple who own the place, Akon’s wife called out with a warm smile, “Don’t leave yet; we made something special for you.”

Curious, I turned back. On the counter sat a small bowl of pale mixture, soft, slightly sticky, and faintly glistening. “What’s this?” I asked.

“This,” she said proudly, “is ampyang; Sekadau’s own dish. You can’t find it anywhere else.”

 A Delicate Craft with a Vanishing Ingredient

The main ingredient of ampyang is not something easily found anymore. It’s made from the flesh of ikan belida, a freshwater fish prized for its smooth, elastic texture and delicate flavor.

Ampyang’s main ingredient: rare, delicate belida fish.

The preparation is entirely manual: the fish meat is separated by hand from the bones, then blended with a touch of flour and egg to bind it together before being fried to a golden crisp.

“It’s hard to make ampyang these days,” Akon explained. “Fresh belida is getting rare. When we find one, we make it; but only for special customers or friends.”

That night, I was lucky. As the oil hissed and the kitchen filled with a savory aroma, the anticipation grew. When the first plate arrived, I took a bite. The texture was almost ethereal; light yet firm, crisp at the edges, and meltingly soft inside. The taste was clean and elegant, carrying the subtle sweetness of river fish with just enough seasoning to let its purity shine.

We shared the dish; myself and three friends visiting from Malaysia: Patricia Ganing, Clemens, and Leo. The first bite silenced the table. It was, in every sense, a rare taste of place; something rooted deeply in Sekadau’s waters and memory. 

Keeping a Legacy Alive Since 1985

Akon’s story is as much a part of the dish as the ingredients themselves. A Hakka Chinese (known locally as Khek) from Sungai Duri, he has been cooking since 1985, when he and his wife opened Tenda Biru. The restaurant quickly became a favorite among locals for its mix of Chinese technique and Dayak-Bornean flavor, a cross-cultural culinary bridge that feels uniquely Sekadau.

Their food has no pretension. Dishes come hot and fresh, served with the quiet confidence of people who know what good food truly means. Regulars come not only for the taste but also for the warmth, the easy laughter, the familiar nod, the sense of being welcomed back home.

Over the decades, Akon’s small kitchen has seen Sekadau change; the streets grow busier, the rivers less full of fish, and modern tastes drift toward fast food and convenience. But inside Tenda Biru, traditions are still alive. Ampyang, though rarely available, stands as a testament to that persistence, a memory of what local food once was before it began to fade from everyday life.

That night, as we finished the last bites, I realized how fortunate we were. We hadn’t just eaten a dish; we had tasted a piece of Sekadau’s identity, something fragile yet enduring, passed quietly from one generation to the next, from one cook’s hands to another’s memory.

In a world where culinary culture often gets flattened into trends and hashtags, ampyang reminds us that some of the best flavors remain hidden. They are made not for fame but for love, cooked by people who care enough to keep their stories and their flavors alive.