What to Eat in Surabaya

Surabaya, a major port on Java’s northeast coast, eats with the sea at its doorstep and rice at the center of the table. A humid tropical climate favors quick-cooked meals, fresh vegetables, and broths that don’t sit heavy. The city’s palate leans bold and savory, relying on spice pastes and the signature shrimp paste reduction, petis.

Street vendors shape daily rhythms, serving breakfast before dawn and snacks well past dusk. Diners favor textural contrast—crisp bean sprouts, chewy lontong rice cakes, and crackling krupuk. Compared with sweeter Central Javanese flavors, Surabaya’s cooking is punchier, with chili heat, garlic, and fermented notes balancing palm sugar and citrus.

Rawon is defined by kluwek (Pangium edule), whose jet-black kernels tint the broth and lend nutty, earthy depth. Beef shank or brisket simmers with a bumbu of shallots, garlic, coriander, candlenut, turmeric, galangal, lemongrass, and daun salam; the soaked kluwek pulp is ground in, yielding a savory, lightly oily soup. Served with steamed rice, blanched mung-bean sprouts, lime, salted egg, sambal, and prawn crackers, it offers gentle chili warmth rather than searing heat. The aroma is rounded and slightly bitter in a pleasing, cacao-like way, finishing clean. Long embedded in East Javanese home cooking and market stalls, rawon in Surabaya is a breakfast or lunchtime mainstay that also appears at family gatherings. You’ll find it from morning markets to late-night warung, appreciated as much for its restorative broth as for the tender, beefy bite.

Rujak cingur layers blanched kangkung and bean sprouts with cucumber, jicama, sliced lontong, fried tofu and tempe, and the namesake cingur—boiled, sliced cow snout with a soft, springy chew. The sauce is pounded to order in a stone mortar: petis udang, roasted peanuts, palm sugar, chili, garlic, tamarind, and often a bit of young green banana (pisang klutuk) for body and aroma. The result is glossy and thick, clinging to each piece with a sweet-sour-salty-fermented complexity and a measured burn; krupuk adds crunch at the end. Preparations vary in chili level, but the petis-driven umami remains central. In Surabaya, this dish is a culinary emblem and a point of pride, demonstrating how local condiments define regional identity. It’s eaten as a hearty snack or light meal from midday into the evening, commonly assembled by hawkers who crush the bumbu on the spot, an interactive ritual that shapes both texture and flavor.

Lontong balap is built on sliced lontong rice cakes topped with a mound of crunchy tauge, fried tofu, and lentho—oval fritters of grated cassava mixed with black-eyed peas, seasoned, and fried until crisp-edged. A light, garlicky broth scented with petis udang is ladled over, then finished with fried shallots, celery leaves, chilies, and often a drizzle of kecap manis to round the savoriness. Texturally it’s lively: the snap of sprouts, the chew of lontong, and the rustic crunch of lentho play against a clean, gently sweet broth. The name “balap” (“race”) recalls the days when vendors hurried to claim busy selling spots, a story locals still retell. Today it remains an afternoon favorite, well-suited to Surabaya’s heat because the soup is bright rather than heavy. Sate kerang (spiced mollusk skewers) are frequently sold alongside, letting diners add briny bites to the otherwise plant-forward bowl.

Tahu tek combines tofu and egg, pan-fried into a thin omelet, then cut with scissors—the signature “tek-tek” sound giving the dish its name. The omelet is set over chopped lontong with boiled potatoes, bean sprouts, and cucumber, then doused in a thin, glossy sauce of petis udang, mashed garlic, palm sugar, chilies, and a touch of tamarind or vinegar for lift. The sauce seeps into the warm tofu and rice cake, yielding a tangy, garlicky, sweet-savory profile that stays light; celery leaves, fried shallots, and krupuk provide herbal fragrance and crunch. Compared with heavier noodle dishes, tahu tek is modest in portion and oil, a reason it’s favored late at night when the weather cools. Street carts assemble it to order, keeping textures distinct and portions flexible. For many Surabayans, it’s a nostalgic evening snack—quick to make, balanced in flavor, and unmistakably defined by the city’s fondness for petis.

Lontong kupang showcases tiny bivalves called kupang putih, simmered until tender in a clear broth with garlic, galangal, and bay leaves, then ladled over sliced lontong. A spoon of petis udang melts into the bowl, transforming the briny liquor into something richer and slightly sweet; a squeeze of lime, fried shallots, and fresh chilies sharpen the finish. Textures are gentle—soft clams and firm rice cake—while flavors move from marine salinity to deep umami and citrus brightness. The dish reflects Surabaya’s maritime setting along the Madura Strait, where shellfish are integral to everyday cooking. Vendors often pair it with krupuk and, optionally, small mollusk satay for added chew and spice. It is most commonly eaten late morning through afternoon at simple stalls, when the day’s clams are freshly cooked and the light broth feels restorative in the humid heat. Portions stay compact, inviting a second snack nearby.

Surabaya cooking is defined by petis-driven savoriness, assertive garlic and chilies, and meals anchored by rice cakes, sprouts, and krupuk for layered texture. Dishes are assembled fast at street level, suiting the tropical climate and the city’s working pace. Explore more regional food guides and plan weather-smart travel using Sunheron’s tools to find the best time to eat and explore.