Siomay in Front of Grogol Station: A 10K Street Food Adventure

by William Siddhi K. on October 04, 2025.

📌Grogol Station, Jakarta, Indonesia

As an undergraduate in Jakarta, I take KRL everyday, the Indonesian commuter train line. It’s one of the main ways people here move around. If you live in Jakarta or around it, you probably already know how messy traffic is, so the train is kind of the savior for a lot of us. Sure, it gets crowded, but at least you’re not stuck two hours in a car just to move five kilometers. For me, the train is just part of my daily routine.

Last week I wrote about Roti Maryam Salman (see: The Smell of the Station: Trying Roti Maryam Salman on My Commute).This week, I wanted to continue the “station food adventure,” but instead of going to a bigger or more popular food spot, I went for something more humble: street food. In front of Grogol Station, right by the chaos of buses, angkot, ojol drivers hanging around, and constant motorcycle horns, you’ll find food carts lined up. And among them, there’s one siomay vendor I always walk past but never tried before.

Siomay, for those who don’t know, originally came from Chinese traders who brought it into Indonesia. Over the years, the dish got “Indonesian-ified,” adjusted to local tastes until it basically became its own thing. In its Indonesian form, siomay usually comes in a mix: tofu, fishcakes (often made from mackerel), potatoes, bittergourd (pare), cabbage, and sometimes egg. All of it is steamed, chopped up, then drowned in peanut sauce with some chili for heat. It’s not fancy, but it’s filling and it’s everywhere.

This particular vendor in front of Grogol had a blue cart. Pretty standard design, nothing flashy. The seller looked around 40–50 years old, not too old but also not young, with no white hair yet. Just another hardworking guy making a living. When I asked to take a photo, he even gave me a little pose, so of course I just snapped it 😅. The background wasn’t glamorous either: you hear the announcement of trains about to close their doors, motorcycles honking nonstop, and that constant layer of Jakarta pollution in the air. But that’s the charm of eating here—you’re not just eating food, you’re eating the whole environment too.

So I asked for the price. It was IDR 10,000, which is just a little more than half a dollar. For that, you get six pieces. You can pick what you want: the base siomay, potatoes, or bittergourd. If you want, you can add a boiled egg for IDR 5,000 more. But me, being your average broke college kid, skipped the egg.

Now, a little side story: when I was younger, my parents used to feed me bittergourd almost every day. Not because it was luxurious, but because it was cheap and we were broke. I hated it at first, but after years of eating it, my taste buds kind of built resistance to bitterness. Fast forward to now—still broke, just slightly better off—I don’t eat it that much anymore. Maybe because I’ve been spoiled with more variety of food as I grew older. So when it comes to siomay, I usually avoid the bittergourd. This time, I played it safe: five base siomay and one potato.

The seller picked them out, dropped them into a clear plastic bag, and then started slicing them up with a dull knife—carefully, so he didn’t puncture the bag. Once everything was chopped, he poured the peanut sauce inside. The sauce was on the thinner side, made with ground peanuts and water. It wasn’t overly spicy, though he did offer extra chili if I wanted it. I politely said no since I’ve got a stomach gastritis problem, and honestly, I can’t handle too much heat these days. The sauce leaned slightly sweet, but personally, I would’ve liked it thicker and just a little less sweet. Still, it was fine. He finished it off with a skewer tucked inside the plastic bag so I could pick up the pieces. I handed him my 10k, he gave me a smile, and that was that.

Now for the fun part: the taste test. First impression, the plastic bag looked a little oily from the sauce, but the smell was promising. The peanut aroma was strong, almost like it had been freshly ground.

I grabbed a base siomay piece first. The texture was super chewy—kind of rubbery in a good way. There’s something satisfying about biting into it. I even found myself chewing in a weird circular motion just to play around with the texture. The peanut sauce added a slight crunch and flavor contrast. It wasn’t mind-blowing, but it was enjoyable.

Then came the potato. The bigger chunk was easy enough to pick up with the skewer, and the combo of soft potato and peanut sauce worked surprisingly well. The smaller chunk, though, was a nightmare. Every time I tried to stab it with the skewer, it slipped away. In the end, I just used my fingers through the plastic bag to push it up and eat it. Messy, but that’s Jakarta street food for you.

By the time I finished the six pieces, I was satisfied. Not overly full, but enough to keep me going before hopping on the train. At 10k, you really can’t complain. Is it the best siomay I’ve ever had? No. But it’s good enough for the price, and more importantly, the experience itself is what makes it fun.

That’s the thing about street food in Jakarta. It’s not always about perfection. Sometimes the sauce is too runny, sometimes the skewers break, sometimes the air is thick with pollution while you’re eating—but all of that is part of the package. Eating siomay in front of Grogol Station is not just about filling your stomach; it’s about being in the middle of the city’s chaos, watching people rush for trains, hearing buses honk, smelling fried food from the next cart, and still finding comfort in something as simple as steamed fishcakes with peanut sauce.

Street food is a part of Jakarta life, and it’s kinda beautiful in its simplicity. Vendors like this siomay seller might not have fancy restaurants or big branding, but they feed thousands of people every day—students, workers, commuters, random passersby. And that’s worth appreciating. Sure, the siomay could be thicker, or less sweet, or whatever. But for 10k, a smile from the seller, and the chaos of Jakarta wrapping around you, it’s more than worth it.

So yeah, if you ever find yourself in front of Grogol Station, give the blue-cart siomay a try. It might not change your life, but it’ll definitely remind you why street food is one of the best things about this city.