About Me
Hey there.
I am an avid forager, gardener, and foodie, and a proud cat whisperer. I also happen to hold a PhD in food fermentation.
Growing up in Java, I devoured magazines about medicinal plants while my parents sold djamoe, traditional Javanese functional tonics. We visited a distant grandmother who sold tobacco, betel leaves, cloves, and gambier. The earthy, resinous smell of those plants is woven into my earliest memories, alongside ancient candi temples where history and imagination mingled with the landscape. Food traditions, remedies, and plants were simply part of everyday life. Every year I was pulled deeper into nature through boy scouts, Red Cross, and school retreats that meant camping, hiking, and learning to pay attention to the land.
After my BSc in Microbiology and an exchange year in Japan, I spent one week teaching Biology in a remote village in West Sumatra. Half a day by car to get there. One week. The best rendang and nasi Padang I have ever tasted in my life. That single week lodged something in me that years of research never dislodged: the most sophisticated food knowledge often lives far outside the laboratory.
I went on to complete an MSc and PhD in Food Biotechnology in the Netherlands. My professional life there has moved through two worlds of fermentation. First dairy, yoghurt and cheese, learning how European cultures have built entire food identities around living microbes. Then an Asian food company, where koji, natto, kimchi, and jang became daily territory. Different continents, different substrates, different traditions. But the benang merah, the red thread, has always been the same: culture, in every sense of the word.
For a long time I kept these lives separate. The scientist. The Indonesian. The forager. The person who wanted to open a restaurant someday and was told they didn't need a PhD for that.
It took me a while to realise I never had to choose.
Larasati is where all of it lands. The name comes from Javanese. Laras, harmony. Ati, the seat of knowing and feeling. Not just heart. Not just mind. Both at once. The workshops build the skills and the knowledge. Sunday Diners Club is where that knowledge comes to the table, and where the harder conversations begin.
I am not a crowd pleaser in the corridors of power. But I make a mean tempeh. And I set a good table.
About Me
Hey there.
I am an avid forager, gardener, and foodie, and a proud cat whisperer. I also happen to hold a PhD in food fermentation.
Growing up in Java, I devoured magazines about medicinal plants while my parents sold djamoe, traditional Javanese functional tonics. We visited a distant grandmother who sold tobacco, betel leaves, cloves, and gambier. The earthy, resinous smell of those plants is woven into my earliest memories, alongside ancient candi temples where history and imagination mingled with the landscape. Food traditions, remedies, and plants were simply part of everyday life. Every year I was pulled deeper into nature through boy scouts, Red Cross, and school retreats that meant camping, hiking, and learning to pay attention to the land.
After my BSc in Microbiology and an exchange year in Japan, I spent one week teaching Biology in a remote village in West Sumatra. Half a day by car to get there. One week. The best rendang and nasi Padang I have ever tasted in my life. That single week lodged something in me that years of research never dislodged: the most sophisticated food knowledge often lives far outside the laboratory.
I went on to complete an MSc and PhD in Food Biotechnology in the Netherlands. My professional life there has moved through two worlds of fermentation. First dairy, yoghurt and cheese, learning how European cultures have built entire food identities around living microbes. Then an Asian food company, where koji, natto, kimchi, and jang became daily territory. Different continents, different substrates, different traditions. But the benang merah, the red thread, has always been the same: culture, in every sense of the word.
For a long time I kept these lives separate. The scientist. The Indonesian. The forager. The person who wanted to open a restaurant someday and was told they didn't need a PhD for that.
It took me a while to realise I never had to choose.
Larasati is where all of it lands. The name comes from Javanese. Laras, harmony. Ati, the seat of knowing and feeling. Not just heart. Not just mind. Both at once. The workshops build the skills and the knowledge. Sunday Diners Club is where that knowledge comes to the table, and where the harder conversations begin.
I am not a crowd pleaser in the corridors of power. But I make a mean tempeh. And I set a good table.