A Taste of Dayak Heritage at “Prospek” Eatery in Sekadau

 

Prospek, a humble eatery on Jalan Rawak, feels like home.

By Masri Sareb Putra

If you ever find yourself in Sekadau, a quiet town tucked in the heart of West Kalimantan, Indonesia, you’ll soon notice its unhurried rhythm and welcoming atmosphere. 

The town sits along the Kapuas River, surrounded by lush greenery and small roads that connect villages steeped in Dayak tradition.

And if you crave an authentic taste of Dayak cuisine, there’s one humble place locals will point you to: Rumah Makan Prospek.

A Modest Stop Along Jalan Rawak

Located along Jalan Rawak, this eatery doesn’t look like much from the outside. With wooden walls, mismatched tables, and a few fans spinning lazily overhead, it feels more like someone’s home than a restaurant. But that’s exactly the charm. What it lacks in polish, it more than makes up for in authenticity.

Locals, travelers, and the occasional government officer on duty stop by here for one reason: to eat as the Dayak do. There’s no laminated menu or pretentious plating. Instead, dishes are displayed on a long table, still steaming from the kitchen, and you simply point to what you want. Meals are served with rice, laughter, and a sense that you’ve stepped into a living tradition rather than a dining establishment.

Fermented Durian and the Bold Flavors of the Jungle
The star of the menu is tempoyak; fermented durian cooked with chili and spices. It’s pungent, fiery, and unforgettable. 

To outsiders, the idea of eating durian, already notorious for its strong smell, after it has been fermented might sound daunting. But for the Dayak people, it’s comfort food: a reminder of home, the forest, and community meals by the riverbank.

Alongside tempoyak, Prospek serves an array of meats rarely found on urban menus, including pork, dog, snake, and venison. These are not shock-value items but rather part of the Dayak people’s culinary identity, reflecting a deep connection to the forest that sustains them. Each dish is prepared using traditional methods; often slow-cooked with herbs, ginger, lemongrass, and turmeric leaves bringing out a depth of flavor both wild and soulful.

The cooking is unapologetically local. There’s no attempt to temper the spice or mask the aroma to suit outsiders. It’s food that speaks of rivers and rainforests, of hunting grounds and communal feasts. Every bite feels like a story, one that belongs to this land and its people.

Jungle Greens and a Gentle Price

For those less inclined toward exotic meats, Prospek also offers a variety of wild greens that bring freshness to the table: young ferns, bamboo shoots, cucumber, and the tender leaves of the cassava plant. These vegetables, foraged from nearby forests or grown in village gardens, carry a kind of flavor that no supermarket produce can replicate. Lightly sautéed or boiled with simple seasonings, they balance the boldness of the meat dishes with something earthy and green.

Dayak specialty dish: venison. Illustration: Courtesy.

But perhaps the most pleasant surprise for visitors is the price. A generous plate of rice, vegetables, and a main dish costs only a fraction of what one might expect; a reflection of the eatery’s purpose not as a tourist spot but as a community place. Regulars often help themselves from the counter, pay afterward, and linger over coffee or sweet iced tea. The pricing changes only if you order something special, such as a larger portion of venison or a custom-cooked dish.

Despite its modesty, Prospek has become something of an institution in Sekadau. It’s not listed in travel guides or featured on influencer feeds, but it’s known by word of mouth, whispered by locals who appreciate the taste of home and the slow rhythms of the town.

There’s a quiet lesson here about food and belonging. Every dish tells a story of who we are, where we come from, and what we choose to preserve amid change. In Prospek, that story unfolds not through fancy presentation but through the sincerity of flavors passed down through generations.

In an age of globalization, where culinary trends are often imported, standardized, and rebranded, much of the world’s dining experience has become increasingly uniform. The uniqueness of local flavors is often replaced by the pursuit of global appeal, leaving little room for authenticity to breathe.

Yet Prospek stands firm as a keeper of memory, a reminder that great food doesn’t need gloss, only roots.

For travelers passing through this stretch of Borneo, Prospek isn’t just a place to eat. It’s a window into Dayak life: modest, earthy, and deeply human.