COFFEE, THE SASAK WAY: A ROADSIDE RITUAL ON THE WAY TO SENGGIGI
AUTHOR: H.B. DATE: December 2025
Long before coffee became a lifestyle accessory—before milk alternatives and takeaway cups—it was simply something you made, shared, and drank together. On the road into Senggigi, that version of coffee culture still exists.
Just on the road side entry to the village of Melase, a small roadside coffee stand quietly pulls locals in. There’s no unique signage shouting for attention, no branding beyond reputation and if you didn't know it existed you’d miss it. What’s served here isn’t trend-driven or designed for speed. It’s old-school Lombok coffee, made the way it has been for generations, with more than a few added spices.
To understand Lomboki’s relationship with coffee, you don’t need to read the statistics. You just need to stop, sit on a plastic stool, and accept a glass of the warming uniquely Lombok slightly chocolatey smelling brew.
Coffee Comes Late, But It Stays Deep
Coffee arrived in Indonesia through colonial trade routes, introduced by the Dutch during their expansion across the archipelago. Java became the centre of cultivation and export, and the word itself eventually slipped into global language as shorthand for coffee everywhere.
Lombok entered that story later. But when coffee settled here, it didn’t replace existing habits—it folded itself into daily life.
Today, Indonesia is one of the world’s largest coffee producers, yet consumption remains deeply local. Each island has its own rhythm, preparation methods, and coffee customs. Around Lombok, coffee remains practical, communal, and intentionally simple.
The Sasak Relationship With Tradition
The Sasak people make up the majority of Lombok’s population, and their cultural continuity remains one of the island’s defining traits. Despite centuries of outside influence—colonial rule, migration, and tourism—many everyday practices have stayed remarkably intact.
Coffee is one of them.
While Senggigi has its share of cafés and espresso machines, they exist alongside something older and quieter: roadside stalls selling a type of coffee that is roasted, ground, blended with ground rice and brewed by hand, without ceremony or marketing.
One of the most enduring examples belongs to Mamiq.
Mamiq’s Coffee Story
Mamiq grew up in Ampenan, Lombok’s former port capital, where he began working at a young age to help support his family. His father sold tobacco and spices along the busy harbour streets, supplying traders, sailors, and soldiers passing through the city.
It was there that Mamiq first experimented with coffee—adding his father’s spice blend to a cup of locally grown Lombok beans.
The result surprised him. So did the reaction when he shared it with others.
What started as curiosity quickly became intention. He began offering the spiced coffee to friends and neighbours, and before long decided to sell it himself. Early mornings were spent waiting for customers who were hesitant to try something unfamiliar.
So Mamiq improvised. A simple piece of scrap wood, one handwritten message: Free Coffee.
People stopped. They tasted. They came back.
Today, his coffee stand sits along the road through Melase on the way into Senggigi—an unassuming spot that has become a familiar pause point for locals, drivers, and regular passers-by.
How Traditional Lombok Coffee Is Made
The coffee served here begins high on the volcanic slopes of Mount Rinjani. The beans—mostly Robusta—are known locally simply as kopi Lombok, valued for their strength and resilience.
The roasting process remains unchanged.
Raw beans are roasted in a large metal wok over a wood fire, mixed with fine sand to distribute heat evenly. The roaster stirs constantly, reading sound, scent, and colour rather than clocks or thermometers.
Once roasted, the beans are separated from the sand using a wooden sieve, cooled, and then ground by hand using a stone mortar and pestle.
Only at the final stage does Mamiq add his spice blend. The full recipe is never shared, though he hints at traditional medicinal ingredients—knowledge passed down long before modern health trends caught up. He credits the coffee, half-seriously, with keeping him healthy well into old age.
More Than a Drink
Kopi Rachick was never built to grow beyond its place. It isn’t packaged, exported, or styled for social media. Its value lies in routine.
Every day, Mamiq and his son Guntur serve coffee from their roadside stand near Senggigi. Police officers sit beside fishermen. Hotel staff share stools with farmers. Everyone drinks from the same glass cups.
People don’t stop here for speed. They stop to talk, to catch up, to rest between destinations.
Culture, Served Roadside
Across the world, coffee is one of the few habits shared almost universally. But in Lombok, it still carries something extra—groundedness, equality, and time.
Along this stretch of road, coffee isn’t a product. It’s a pause. A conversation. A familiar stop before continuing on.
And maybe that’s why it works. Because sometimes the strongest traditions survive not by being protected—but by being practiced, every single day.
