Puteri

When Puteri first arrived in Norway from Jakarta, she didn’t come with a business plan. She came with recipes.

“I just missed the food,” she says, laughing softly. “And I missed feeding people.”

Today, those recipes live inside Toko Bintang, her small takeaway shop where the air smells like toasted spices, slow-simmered sambal, and something harder to name: care.

Cooking as a way of belonging

Back in Jakarta, food was never just food. It was noise, family, neighbors dropping by, late-night conversations over rice and fried shallots. Moving to Norway meant silence in unexpected places — especially in the kitchen.

“At first I only cooked for myself,” she says. “Then for friends. Then friends told other friends.”

What began as informal meals slowly turned into something else. People didn’t just come for Indonesian food. They came back for her food.

“That’s when I realized maybe this could be something real.”

A takeaway built on generosity

Toko Bintang isn’t trying to be trendy. It isn’t styled like a concept restaurant. There’s no branding strategy behind the menu.

Instead, there’s rendang that simmers until it turns deep and dark with spice. There’s ayam goreng that crackles when you bite into it. There are dishes that taste like someone cooked them for you personally — because someone did.