Rizwan began a new chapter in his culinary and business journey in New York with a clearer vision and burning passion. His small restaurant is now gaining attention, not only from the Indonesian community but also from local and international food lovers who are curious about the rich flavors of the archipelago.
Armed with extensive experience and having overcome many twists and turns, Rizwan continues to hone his culinary skills while managing the restaurant in a professional manner. He encourages his team to maintain the consistency of flavors that combine traditional recipes and modern techniques, such as using sous-vide on rendang meat to achieve perfect tenderness, or slow-cooking sambal to obtain a deep aroma and flavor without losing its freshness.
The strategic location in Williamsburg, which was initially a challenge, has now become an asset, attracting many creative communities and food lovers who crave authentic yet innovative experiences. The restaurant has become a warm and lively gathering place, with an atmosphere that combines modern aesthetics and a touch of Indonesian culture through its decor, music, and friendly service.
In a short time, Rizwan's restaurant has successfully presented stunning signature dishes, such as wagyu rendang with artistic presentation, Balinese sate lilit combined with honey mustard sauce, and refreshing gado-gado bowls. Customers come not only to eat, but also to experience the story and culture that is presented in its entirety.
Although he has not yet reached the pinnacle of global success, Rizwan sees tangible progress toward his dream: recognition from local media, invitations to join culinary events, and Indonesian food becoming widely known amid New York's culinary diversity. Each small step is a stepping stone for Rizwan to continue being creative and daring to take risks.
In addition, Rizwan also maintains strong relationships with the diaspora community and the Indonesian government, utilizing the moral support that has been a pillar throughout his long and winding journey.
This opens a new chapter full of hope and opportunity, marking that the struggle is never in vain and that the flavors of the archipelago can shine in the glitz and glamour of the world's great cities.
***
With momentum building from embassy support and tireless perseverance, Rizwan's restaurant in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, is now becoming an increasingly popular center of attention. This area, known as a creative hub with art galleries, hipster cafes, and a young community hungry for innovation, provides a breath of fresh air for Rizwan. Customers are not only Indonesians living abroad who are homesick, but also local New Yorkers—designers, artists, and foodies who are tempted by the aroma of Indonesian spices wafting from the restaurant's open kitchen. Like Studio Bumi, which has been successful with its communal dining concept in Brooklyn, Rizwan has adopted similar elements: long tables for dining together, where guests share stories while enjoying family-style dishes, creating authentic and Instagram-worthy social bonds.
Rizwan has expanded his signature menu with detailed and meticulous daily innovations, ensuring that each dish is not only delicious but also tells a story. Take, for example, "Slow-Braised Wagyu Rendang," a signature dish that takes up to 10 hours to prepare. He starts by selecting premium imported wagyu beef from an Australian supplier—a 5 kg brisket marinated overnight in a mixture of 500 grams of curly red chilies, 200 grams of shallots, 100 grams of garlic, 50 grams of grated ginger and galangal, 10 bruised lemongrass stalks, 20 lime leaves, and 2 liters of thick coconut milk from fresh coconuts. The boiling process is carried out in a special stainless steel pot over low heat at 85°C using a digital thermometer, stirring every 30 minutes so that the coconut milk thickens into a rich, spicy sauce that coats the meat until it is perfectly tender without falling apart. When served, the meat is sliced thinly into 1 cm pieces, arranged on top of pandan and lemongrass-scented liwet rice, sprinkled with roasted coconut powder, crispy fried shallots, and a dash of fresh sambal matah sauce—plated in a circle with contrasting colors of brown spices, green leaves, and white rice for a stunning visual effect that customers often photograph.
Equally detailed, "Sate Lilit Fusion" is a favorite in the evening. Rizwan prepares fresh local tuna (2 kg skinless fillet) mixed with 500 grams of grated coconut, 100 grams of cayenne pepper, 50 grams of garlic, 20 grams of roasted coriander, and sea salt, blended on low speed to maintain the authentic Balinese coarse texture. The mixture is shaped into rolls on organic bamboo skewers, grilled over coconut charcoal at 200°C for 8-10 minutes while being brushed with liquid lemongrass oil for caramelization on the outside and juiciness on the inside. Served on a teak wood plate: the satay is arranged vertically like a tower, drizzled with finely ground peanut sauce with added manuka honey and lime, surrounded by cucumber pickles and fresh basil leaves—the aroma of charcoal smoke mixed with spices immediately tempts the senses.
Behind the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, Rizwan faces the dynamics of a growing team. He trains 12 chefs and waiters with daily sessions: mornings focus on basic techniques such as blanching vegetables for gado-gado (vegetables are dipped in boiling water for 30 seconds and then ice water to preserve their bright color), while afternoons involve peak hour simulations with 50 servings at a time. Emma, his partner, intelligently manages the front-of-house, organizing weekly events like "Spice Night" where guests learn to make sambal while listening to Rizwan's stories about his journey from Indonesia to Europe and New York. His relationship with Dita remains warm via video calls, but distance begins to create a rift—Rizwan reflects in his nightly journal, questioning his heart's choice amidst the chaos.
Although suppliers remain a concern (imported lemongrass prices rose 20% in winter), Rizwan innovates with a local greenhouse for lime leaves and collaborations with organic farmers for alternative chilies. The restaurant is now bustling every weekend, with lines up to 45 minutes long—an achievement similar to Awang Kitchen, praised by the New York Times for its authenticity. Local media began to take notice: an Eater NY review called his restaurant a "hidden gem of Nusantara fusion," bringing a 30% surge in visitors.
However, challenges remained: skyrocketing Williamsburg rent, competition from Wayan fine-dining, and team fatigue. Rizwan responds with a loyalty program—a punch card for a free dessert after five visits—and pop-ups at night markets for free exposure. At the end of the day, while cleaning the kitchen, he smiles at the last order: a multicultural family sharing plates, laughing over the spiciness of the sambal. This isn't the end, but proof that the Nusantara dream is beginning to shine in the city that never sleeps.
***
The success of Rizwan's restaurant in Williamsburg reached its peak when a lengthy review from Eater NY called it "the next big thing in Indonesian fusion dining," comparing it to Wayan, which has been included in the Michelin Guide for its innovative Balinese-French flavors. Lines now stretch around the block every Friday night, drawing a mix of Manhattan foodies, local Brooklyn artists, and Instagram tourists willing to wait 90 minutes to taste "Rendang Escargot" —inspired by Wayan, where Rizwan modified the recipe with snails imported from French farms, cooked in a thick rendang sauce (a mixture of 300g dried chilies, 150g red onions, 100g grated lemongrass, 50g fresh ginger and turmeric, 1.5L coconut milk from organic Hawaiian coconuts) for 6 hours at 82°C sous-vide to achieve tender snails that absorb the spices without any fishy taste, served in mini escargot shells with lemongrass garlic butter and toasted coconut flakes—radially plated on a black volcanic stone plate for a dramatic effect that went viral on TikTok.
Kitchen operations now resemble an orchestra: Rizwan leads an 18-person brigade with a morning shift (5 AM) for ingredient prep. He oversees the preparation of "Modern Gado-Gado" in detail—organic tempeh and tofu are double-fried in virgin coconut oil at 170°C (first for 2 minutes for a crispy exterior, then 30 seconds for a golden color), vegetables such as long beans are blanched for exactly 45 seconds in boiling water with sea salt, then shocked in an ice bath for a vibrant green color, carrots and potatoes carved into flower shapes with a special Japanese knife, all drizzled with homemade peanut sauce (500g roasted peanuts, 200g liquid palm sugar, 100ml fermented sweet soy sauce, 50g cayenne pepper, crumbled tempeh for umami, blended with an immersion blender until silky smooth). Served in a carved teak bowl with batik motifs: vegetables arranged in an ascending spiral, protein in the center, sauce poured tableside for theatrical effect, complete with microgreens, lime leaves, and crispy edamame garnish—this dish became a vegan bestseller, attracting 40% health-conscious customers, as seen at Studio Bumi Gowanus, which successfully hosted communal dinner parties.
Personally, Rizwan faced a deep emotional resolution. His relationship with Emma grew stronger; they planned a simple rooftop restaurant wedding, with Dita present as a friend—not a rival. A video call with Dita turned into a menu brainstorming session, where Dita sent family recipes from Central Java, such as wet gudeg, which Rizwan adapted into "Slow-Cooked Brisket Gudeg" (4kg Angus brisket marinated in 2kg young jackfruit, 3L coconut milk, 300g brown sugar, smoked teak leaves, braised for 12 hours in a 75°C convection oven until the jackfruit melts into a sweet brown sauce, served with local boiled eggs and homemade spicy krecek from crispy fried beef skin). This wedding became a turning point: Rizwan chose Emma as his life partner, but Dita remained his "closest family," symbolizing the maturity of his love.
The business exploded: turnover increased by 150% in 3 months, forcing expansion to an Indonesian diaspora-style food truck in Williamsburg supported by the local mayor. Rizwan received a BNI Diaspora Loan after the embassy's proposal recommended it, even though spice suppliers were still expensive—he collaborated with urban farmers for hydroponic lemongrass and greenhouse chilies, cutting costs by 25%. The weekly "Nusantara Nights" event is packed: live cooking demos, electric gamelan music, and storytelling about Rizwan's journey from culinary school in Indonesia to Amsterdam-Paris-Budapest-New York, attracting 200 guests per night like a communal rijsttafel in Brooklyn.
The final challenge came when a major chain offered a franchise deal, but Rizwan declined in favor of quality control—much like Cedric Vongerichten who opened ma.dé and later Wayan. The restaurant is packed every night: multiethnic families share plates, laughter echoes, and Rizwan smiles wearily from the kitchen. In the journal: "From the village kitchen to the glitz of Brooklyn, the taste of Nusantara is no longer a dream—it lives, shares, and unites. Thank you, struggle." The neon sign "Rasa Rumah" (Taste of Home) lit up, marking the climax: the restaurant is not the end, but the beginning of a global legacy.
***
That night, Rizwan's restaurant in Williamsburg reached an unprecedented peak of popularity. The neon lights spelling out "Rasa Rumah" flashed warmly on the exposed brick facade, while the queue snaked onto the cobblestone sidewalk, wet from the autumn drizzle. Inside, carved teak tables were packed with a diverse mix of faces: hipster-bearded local artists, Indonesian diaspora families dressed in modern kebaya, and a group of Manhattan food bloggers busy photographing every corner. The aroma of wagyu rendang and sambal matah wafted from the open kitchen, mingling with the hubbub of conversation and the clatter of porcelain plates. Like Wayan, who dazzled with Cédric Vongerichten-style escargot rendang, Rizwan is now the talk of Eater NY as "Nusantara's boldest fusion in Brooklyn."
Amidst the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, Rizwan wears a long-sleeved black apron, watching his brigade with sharp eyes. "Sous-chef, check the temperature of the rendang—it must be stable at 82°C, don't let the coconut milk curdle!" he shouts while stirring a large pot containing 10 kg of wagyu brisket that has been slow-braised for 8 hours. The sauce mixture is complex: 1 kg of dried curly chilies reboiled with 500 g of imported onions, 300 g of fresh grated lemongrass from a local greenhouse (a collaboration with urban farmers in Queens), 200 g of organic ginger and turmeric, 50 frozen kaffir lime leaves, plus 4 liters of thick coconut milk from Hawaiian coconuts—all roughly blended and then strained for a silky texture. "Good, add 100 ml of coconut oil for shine!" Rizwan added, while plating a demo portion: the meat was sliced 1 cm thick, arranged in a circle on a volcanic stone plate, drizzled with shiny sauce, garnished with toasted coconut flakes (baked at 160°C for 5 minutes) and lime leaf microgreens—a contrast of dark brown, bright green, and Instagramable gold.
Suddenly, Emma appeared at the kitchen door, her hair tied back neatly, a wide smile on her face. "Riz, special guests are coming—a critic from the New York Times and a team from the Indonesian Consulate in New York! They ordered a complete Brooklyn-style rijsttafel, like at the Indonesian rijsttafel pop-up!" Rizwan wiped his sweat, laughing wearily. "Seriously? Okay, give them the VIP rooftop table. I'll prepare the special satay lilit—3 kg of local tuna, mixed with 800 g of grated coconut, 150 g of cayenne pepper, 30 g of roasted coriander, shaped into rolls on organic bamboo skewers, grilled over coconut charcoal at 200°C for 10 minutes while brushing with lemongrass oil. Add manuka honey to the peanut sauce for fusion!" Emma nodded, kissing her cheek quickly. "You're amazing. Dita just video called, she said your brisket gudeg went viral on Jakarta's Instagram—she's so proud." Rizwan smiled bitterly. "Tell Dita that the gudeg recipe is hers, that's what makes it special. Send her our wedding invitation, okay?"
On the rooftop, under string lights and transparent rainproof tents, Studio Bumi Gowanus' long communal table was set for 20 guests. The Indonesian Consul General in New York, Mr. Budi, sits at one end, flanked by Times critic Lisa Chen and borough president Eric Adams, who is supported by a diaspora food truck. "Mr. Rizwan, this restaurant is amazing—similar to Awang Kitchen, which was praised by the NYT last year, but with an edgy Williamsburg twist," says Lisa as she samples the modern gado-gado. The blanched vegetables were perfectly cooked (long beans for 40 seconds in salted water, then shocked in ice for vibrant green color), the tempeh was double-fried (170°C for 2 minutes then 30 seconds), and the peanut sauce was emulsified tableside with an immersion blender—she moaned with pleasure. "This isn't just food, it's a story!"
Rizwan went up to the rooftop, a glass of lemongrass-infused water in his hand. "Thank you, Ms. Lisa. We started from scratch—investor crisis, expensive suppliers. But the support from the Indonesian Consulate General made us strong. Mr. Budi, thank you for the Spice Up The World festival yesterday, the queue increased by 50%!" Mr. Budi laughed. "That's our job, Mr. Rizwan. Indonesian cuisine like Wayan or Selamat Pagi in Brooklyn is what puts Indonesia on the map. Mayor, what do you think?" Eric Adams gave a thumbs up. "Rizwan's place? Game-changer! I support diaspora food trucks like Arifin's here—now this restaurant is next level. This rendang escargot? Bold!" They laughed as the sate lilit was served: skewers arranged like a tower on a wooden plate, sauce poured in slow motion for dramatic effect.
The conversation continued as the full rijsttafel arrived—15 mini dishes: lumpia semprong filled with local durian, pepes ikan laut kukus banan leaf (bass steamed for 15 minutes at 100°C with turmeric and chili seasoning), ayam goreng kremes double-batter (rice flour + tapioca, fried at 180°C), sambal goreng ati ampela pedas manis. "Rizwan, tell us about your journey from culinary school to here," asked Lisa. Rizwan sat down, his voice calm. "Starting with Mr. Joko in the village, an internship in sous-vide in the Netherlands, Michelin pressure in Paris, fusion in Budapest, dreams in New York. Investor crisis? We racked our brains—pop-ups, crowdfunding, Diaspora Loan BNI. Suppliers? Still looking for affordable ones, but local chili greenhouses saved us." Emma interjected softly, "And the love... from Dita who sent the recipes, to me who stayed up late every night." The guests clapped.
The climax: an impromptu rooftop wedding with Dita via Zoom from Jakarta. "Riz, congratulations! Emma, take care of him—he's a stubborn cook but has a heart of gold," Dita said, laughing, her eyes glistening. Rizwan hugged Emma. "This is our resolution—business, love, Nusantara." A small bonfire burned, an electric gamelan was played by a local duo, and guests shared plates like at Upi Jaya Queens, the diaspora's anchor. When the restaurant closed at 1 a.m., Rizwan wrote in his journal in the kitchen: "Tonight, taste brought us all together. From struggle to celebration—thank you, New York, thank you, home."
***
The morning after the impromptu rooftop wedding, Rizwan's restaurant still smelled of sambal matah and charcoal smoke from the night before. The Williamsburg sun streamed through the large windows, illuminating the kitchen that had just been cleaned by the morning brigade. Rizwan, still wearing the simple wedding ring Emma had given him, stood at the prep station slicing fresh lemongrass from the local greenhouse—a 5-kilogram batch for today's fusion chicken soto. Emma came in from the front office, carrying ginger-infused coffee and a piece of paper from the Indonesian Consulate. "Riz, big news! Next month's 'Indonesia Spice Up The World' festival at the Javits Center—they want you to be the head chef for the modern rijsttafel demo. This is a national franchise opportunity!" Rizwan wiped his hands on his apron, his eyes sparkling. "Seriously? Like Studio Bumi, which went viral with their communal dining? Okay, but we have to prepare a special menu. Let's brief the team now!"
They went up to a small meeting room upstairs, its walls covered with photos of Rizwan's travels: Pak Joko's kitchen, sous-vide in the Netherlands, plating in Paris, grilling in Budapest. The team of 20—sous-chef Miguel (formerly Wayan), waitress Lena (Javanese diaspora), and newbie Alex from Brooklyn—were already seated. Rizwan opened his laptop and projected the menu slides. "Good morning, team! Last night was incredible—the NYT critic gave us 4.5 stars, the mayor called us 'Brooklyn's Indonesian anchor' like Upi Jaya in Queens. But this festival is national level. We're demoing 'Rijsttafel Nusantara 2.0'—15 dishes, 100 live servings. First, chicken soto: broth from 10 organic free-range chickens simmered for 4 hours with 200g lemongrass, 100g galangal, 50g fresh turmeric, 20 lime leaves, strained finely then add shredded chicken, bean sprouts blanched for 20 seconds, crispy emping. Homemade tomato sambal sauce: 300g chili peppers, 500g tomatoes, 200g onions, 50g tamarind—blended until emulsified." Miguel raised his hand. "Chef, what's the broth temperature? Sous-vide again?" Rizwan nodded. "Yes, 85°C for 2 hours post-boil for perfect clarity. Lena, plating: bamboo bowl, garnish with basil leaves and manually fried onions—crispy at 160°C for exactly 2 minutes." Lena quickly took notes. "Ready, Chef! Like authentic Awang Kitchen but fast food? Young guests like to take pictures."
The long dialogue continued as Alex asked hesitantly. "Chef Rizwan, I'm new to the team. Spice suppliers are still expensive—lemongrass is up 25% this week. How can we save money without compromising the taste?" Rizwan sat down, his voice calm but firm. "Good question, Alex. Remember the investor crisis? We racked our brains: the BNI Diaspora Loan finally disbursed 50 thousand dollars after the recommendation of the Indonesian Consulate General. Suppliers? Collaboration with Queens urban farm—local hydroponic lemongrass cuts costs by 30%, greenhouse chilies are similar to authentic cayenne peppers. But authenticity is still number one. Remember the sambal matah recipe: 200g thinly sliced red onions (2mm), 150g coarsely chopped bird's eye chili, 100g finely sliced lemongrass, 50ml fresh lime juice, 20g sea salt—mix manually for 10 minutes to let it absorb, no cooking. That's what made our TikTok go viral, 2 million views!" Emma added, "And the weekly 'Spice Talk' event—guests pay 50 dollars to learn how to make sambal while eating family-style. Like the communal event at Studio Bumi, tickets sold out in a month. Riz, tell Alex about Dita."
Rizwan smiled, showing a photo of Dita on his phone. "Dita is a friend from my village—she sent me a recipe for gudeg via WhatsApp when I was in Paris. 'Riz, the young jackfruit must be really sour, and the coconut milk mustn't curdle!' she said. Now our brisket gudeg is a vegan bestseller: 4kg plant-based brisket marinated in 3kg young jackfruit, 400g palm sugar, 4L coconut milk, oven-smoked teak leaves at 75°C for 10 hours. Dita attended the wedding via Zoom yesterday and said, 'Rizwan, your restaurant is like a new Indonesian home in Brooklyn. Don't forget to send wagyu to Jakarta!' Haha. Emma, you're the one who made the rooftop an icon—string lights, electric gamelan, guests sharing plates like a Brooklyn rijsttafel." Emma hugged Rizwan's shoulders. "Tim, this isn't just a business. We're bringing the archipelago here—spicy, sweet, sour, savory. Alex, tomorrow you lead the satay prep: 3kg of coarsely ground tuna, 800g of roasted coconut, Balinese spices, coriander, chili, skewered on bamboo sticks, grilled at 200°C for 8 minutes, brushed with lemongrass oil. Tower plating on wooden plates—like Selamat Pagi, Brooklyn's oasis."
The discussion heated up when Miguel suggested, "Chef, a franchise offer from a Manhattan chain—200 thousand initial investment. Should we expand?" Rizwan shook his head slowly. "No, Miguel. Like Cédric Vongerichten turning down a big offer for control over Wayan. We stay small, authentic—focus on quality. But a food truck—supported by the mayor like Arifin's diaspora. Location: Bedford Avenue, quick menu: wagyu fried rice (cold leftover rice stir-fried at 220°C for 3 minutes with sunny-side-up egg, homemade beef meatballs, emping, pickles)." Lena was excited. "Yes! And a loyalty card—5 visits get a free klepon fusion dessert: green matcha sticky rice flour filled with liquid palm sugar, organic grated coconut, soaked for 30 minutes and steamed at 100°C." Alex nodded enthusiastically. "I understand now, Chef. From zero to viral—this is inspiring!"
The meeting ended at 10 a.m., and the team immediately began prep. Rizwan and Emma went up to the rooftop, where the Brooklyn breeze was gentle. "Em, last night Dita said in the chat: 'Riz, your choice of heart is wise. I'm happy to see you both happy.' Perfect resolution." Emma kissed his cheek. "And the business? The Javits Festival will get us a Michelin mention like Wayan. We'll prove that Nusantara can rival fine dining." Rizwan gazed at the Manhattan skyline. "Yes. From the village kitchen to here—every spice tells a story of struggle." Below, the kitchen echoed: "Clear broth soto! Grilled satay ready!" The restaurant came alive again, the aroma uniting dreams and reality.