Magani unites tradition with the new; reimagining the traditional batik shirt for the needs of our contemporary society. We combine Indonesia’s rich cultural heritage with the latest innovation in performance wear material to build the ultimate durable and comfortable shirt for the modern Indonesian man who is constantly on the move.
As we celebrate Indonesia’s heritage, we also celebrate the individuals who are unintimidated by the sweat and hard work required to defy challenges, push boundaries, and move Indonesia forward.
Meet the #MaganiMen who have inspired us that with grit and endurance, there are no limits to what you can achieve. #NOSWEATNOLIMIT
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#MaganiMen — Jovan Koraag, a chef and entrepreneur whose path is shaped by craft, curiosity, and a deep respect for ingredients. From building Mata Karanjang as a personal expression of flavor to refining his philosophy through daily kitchen discipline, Jovan believes great cooking comes from intention, patience, and honesty. Balancing creativity, leadership, and long hours behind the scenes, he sees progress as a continuous process—earned through consistency, care, and showing up fully every day.
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Can you share your personal journey into the culinary world? How did Manado culture and cuisine shape your identity as a chef?
My journey into the culinary world was not a straight line, and it certainly didn’t begin in a professional kitchen. I grew up in a Manado household where food was deeply woven into daily life. Cooking was never treated as a performance—it was practical, communal, and rooted in culture. From an early age, I was surrounded by bold flavors, long preparations, and an honest respect for ingredients. That environment shaped my palate and instincts long before I understood what being a chef meant.
In my teenage years, my focus was not food, but sports—specifically football. I was deeply involved in soccer and spent a significant part of my early life training and competing seriously. The discipline, routine, and mental toughness required in sports played a major role in shaping my work ethic. At that time, my future felt more aligned with athletics than with cooking.
After finishing school, I pursued further education and eventually moved to Singapore, where I enrolled at SHATEC (Singapore Hotel Association Training & Educational Centre). That decision marked a turning point. While studying hospitality and culinary fundamentals, I began to see cooking not just as something familiar from home, but as a structured, professional craft. SHATEC introduced me to discipline in the kitchen—standards, systems, hygiene, and consistency—elements that resonated strongly with the mindset I had developed through sports.
Being away from home also deepened my connection to Manado cuisine. The distance gave me perspective. As I learned international techniques and worked with different ingredients, I became more aware of how strong and distinct the flavors I grew up with truly were. Manado food didn’t feel chaotic or excessive—it felt confident. That realization became foundational to my identity as a chef.
Looking back, my path—from a Manado household, to competitive soccer, to formal culinary education in Singapore—shaped the way I approach food today. I cook with the discipline of an athlete, the structure of professional training, and the soul of Manado cuisine. All three are inseparable parts of who I am.
Manado cuisine is known for its bold, spicy character. When did you realize this was the flavor language you wanted to stand for?
That realization came gradually, not suddenly. While studying and working abroad, I was deeply immersed in Western cuisine—Italian, Mediterranean, American, and Latin flavors. For years, I cooked professionally without touching Manado food at all. But every time I returned home, even briefly, the flavors would immediately reconnect me to my roots. It wasn’t just about heat or spice—it was about balance, aroma, and honesty.
I eventually understood that Manado cuisine isn’t aggressive; it’s expressive. People often reduce it to “very spicy,” but that’s an oversimplification. The spices, herbs, and aromatics are layered intentionally. Once I matured as a chef, I realized that this language of flavor deserved to be communicated properly—without compromise, but also without exaggeration. That’s when I knew it was something I wanted to represent, in my own way.
Before Mata Karanjang existed, which experiences shaped the way you cook today?
Every stage of my career shaped me differently. My early training at SHATEC gave me discipline and fundamentals. Working in hotels and restaurants taught me hierarchy, pressure, and precision. Being part of international kitchens—especially Italian restaurants—instilled respect for tradition, origin, and ingredients.
Equally important were moments of failure and exhaustion. Starting from the lowest kitchen positions taught me humility. I learned that ego has no place in a kitchen. Watching great chefs work showed me that consistency matters more than creativity without control. Over time, these experiences built my philosophy: cook with intention, respect ingredients, and never lose integrity just to impress.
Was there a moment when you thought, “I want to build something of my own”? How did it become Mata Karanjang?
Honestly, I never planned to open a Manado restaurant. Mata Karanjang happened by accident. At the time, I was running Italian restaurants successfully. During an internal staff gathering, instead of going out, I decided to cook Manado food for the team—simple dishes from my childhood.
The reaction surprised me. My partners immediately noticed something different about the flavors. They weren’t overly spicy, but they were deep, balanced, and memorable. That moment sparked a conversation: why not bring Manado food to the table, but cooked by a professional chef with proper sourcing and technique? From there, Mata Karanjang was born—not as a trend, but as a personal expression of my roots.
As a chef, how do you balance honoring tradition while still creating space for creative exploration and innovation?
Tradition is the foundation, not a cage. I believe creativity should elevate, not overwrite. When dealing with regional food, especially something as culturally rich as Manado cuisine, you cannot stray too far. The ingredients, base spices, and cooking logic must remain intact.
My creativity comes in refinement—better sourcing, cleaner execution, and thoughtful balance. I might change proteins or presentation, but the soul of the dish stays the same. If creativity disconnects food from its origin, then it becomes dishonest.
Mata Karanjang doesn’t simply recreate Manado cuisine—it reinterprets it through a more refined approach. What core philosophy do you consistently apply to every dish?
The core philosophy I apply to every dish, whether at Mata Karanjang or Solo Ristorante, is very simple: I cook food that I personally believe in and would proudly serve to my own family. For me, refinement is not about making food complicated or turning it into something unrecognizable—it’s about clarity, balance, and respect. At Mata Karanjang, that means staying true to the soul of Manado cuisine while refining how the flavors are structured, how the ingredients are sourced, and how the dish ultimately feels when it’s eaten. At Solo Ristorante, the same philosophy applies, but through a different cultural lens. When I cook Italian food, I follow the rules of origin very strictly—from using certified Italian flour for Neapolitan-style pizza, to San Marzano tomatoes, proper cheeses, and olive oils that reflect where the dish comes from.
Ingredient selection is where everything begins. I am very particular about sourcing because ingredients are not just components of a recipe—they determine the integrity of the dish. At Mata Karanjang, I focus on clean proteins, sustainably sourced fish, free-range chicken, and natural seasonings like sea salt, because Manado food is deeply ingredient-driven. At Solo Ristorante, precision matters just as much: flour quality affects fermentation and texture, tomatoes define acidity and sweetness, and cheese defines balance. Across both brands, my philosophy remains the same—respect the ingredient, understand its origin, and let it speak without overcomplicating it. Refinement, for me, is about removing excess and allowing honest flavors to come through. That principle guides every menu, every kitchen, and every plate we serve.
How do you draw the line between authenticity and innovation?
For me, the boundary between authenticity and innovation is defined by intention and honesty. Authenticity is not about freezing a dish in time, but about understanding its roots—where it comes from, why it exists, and what makes it recognizable. Before I allow myself to innovate, I make sure I fully understand the original form of the dish: the traditional ingredients, the balance of flavors, and the cultural context behind it. Only after that foundation is clear do I consider making changes, and even then, those changes must serve a purpose rather than simply chasing novelty.
Innovation, in my view, should never erase identity. Especially when working with regional cuisine like Manado food, the goal is not to impress with technique but to elevate without losing soul. The same principle applies to Italian cuisine at Solo Ristorante—there are established rules and origins that I respect deeply. Innovation comes in execution, balance, and quality of ingredients, not in breaking the fundamentals.
Ultimately, I believe innovation should feel natural, not forced. If a dish still tells the same story, triggers the same memory, and carries the same emotional weight—even when refined—then the boundary has been respected. Once a dish loses its identity, no matter how creative it looks, it no longer serves its purpose.
Why is ingredient sourcing non-negotiable for you, and how does it affect flavor?
Ingredient quality is non-negotiable for me because ingredients are the foundation of everything we do in the kitchen. No matter how skilled a chef is, the final result will only ever be as good as the ingredients used. This applies across all my kitchens, from Mata Karanjang to Solo Ristorante. When the ingredients are clean, responsibly sourced, and treated properly, the flavors become clearer, more balanced, and more honest. You don’t need to hide behind excessive seasoning or technique—the food speaks for itself.
At Solo Ristorante, this philosophy is guided by strict adherence to origin and standards. For example, when we say we serve Neapolitan-style pizza, we follow the guidelines set by AVPN (Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana)—the official Italian organization that protects the authenticity of traditional Neapolitan pizza. AVPN defines everything from the type of flour used, fermentation methods, tomato varieties like San Marzano, to oven temperature and dough handling. Following these standards is not about prestige; it’s about respect—for the craft, the culture, and the people who created it.
At Mata Karanjang, sourcing carries a similar weight, though expressed differently. Manado cuisine is deeply ingredient-driven, especially when it comes to fresh fish, spices, and natural seasonings. I make conscious decisions to use sustainably sourced seafood, free-range proteins, and natural sea salt because these choices directly affect both flavor and nutrition. When ingredients are treated with respect from the start—how they are grown, raised, or harvested—the final dish carries depth, integrity, and clarity. For me, that is where true flavor comes from.
You are known for being very serious about curating your ingredients. How important do you think it is for diners to understand the story and process behind each dish—beyond seeing it as just part of branding?
I believe it is extremely important for diners to understand the story and process behind the food they are eating, because food is not just a product—it is something that enters the body and becomes part of us. In the past, people went to restaurants simply to feel full, but today the relationship between people and food has evolved. With greater access to information and technology, diners are becoming more conscious about what they consume, where it comes from, and how it is produced.
For me, storytelling is not about marketing or creating an image—it is about transparency and integrity. When we share where our ingredients come from, how the fish is sourced, how the animals are raised, or why we choose certain seasonings, we are inviting diners to understand the values behind the food. That understanding creates trust. It allows people to eat with awareness, not just enjoyment. If a protein is sourced responsibly, if a vegetable is grown properly, or if a seasoning is chosen carefully, those decisions affect not only flavor but also nutrition and well-being.
However, storytelling must always be honest. I strongly believe that stories should never be fabricated just to sound appealing. If we claim something has a certain origin or process, it has to be true. Otherwise, it becomes empty branding. For me, sharing the story behind a dish is part of respecting both the ingredient and the person eating it. When diners understand the process, they don’t just taste the food—they connect with it.
In such a fast-paced F&B industry, how do you maintain consistency daily?
Consistency is the hardest part of running a restaurant. Skill alone is not enough. I rely on documentation, training, tasting, and presence. Recipes must be followed. Every dish must be tasted before it leaves the kitchen. I don’t believe in auto-pilot kitchens. I move between outlets, check ingredients, taste food, and train continuously. Consistency is built through discipline and repetition.
What does “respecting food” mean in daily practice?
Respecting food means understanding that once food enters the body, there is no undo button. That’s why I refuse shortcuts. From sourcing to storage, from prep to plating, everything must be intentional. Respect also means educating the team. Everyone must understand why standards exist. Food is not just a product—it's a responsibility.
Being a chef requires more than technical skill. How has your leadership style evolved since leading your own kitchen?
When I first stepped into the role of chef, I quickly realized that leadership in the kitchen goes far beyond cooking ability. In the early days, I was very hands-on and involved in almost every decision, but over time I learned that true leadership is about building people, not just managing operations. My leadership style has evolved into one that focuses heavily on training, communication, and shared responsibility. I see my team as partners in the journey, not just employees executing instructions.
I believe that when you invest in people—by teaching them, listening to them, and giving them clarity—they take ownership of their work. In my kitchens, leadership is about setting clear standards, explaining the reasoning behind those standards, and consistently showing up as an example. I still spend a lot of time in the kitchen, tasting, checking, and guiding, because I don’t believe in an “auto-pilot” approach. Leading from the front allows me to stay connected to both the food and the people who make it.
What values do you prioritize instilling in your team beyond cooking skills?
Beyond technical skills, the most important values I want to instill in my team are integrity, discipline, and respect. Skills can be taught, but character is something that must be built over time. Integrity is especially important in the food industry—being honest about ingredients, processes, and responsibilities. I want my team to understand that cutting corners, even when no one is watching, eventually affects quality and trust.
Discipline is another core value, and it applies to everything from punctuality to consistency in execution. A disciplined team creates a stable kitchen environment, where pressure is manageable and standards are maintained. Respect ties it all together—respect for ingredients, for colleagues, for the craft, and for the guests we serve. When these values are in place, the kitchen becomes more than a workplace; it becomes a space for growth and professionalism.
Kitchens are high-pressure environments. How do you personally manage stress and expectations, especially during difficult moments?
Managing stress in the kitchen starts with understanding that no one can do everything alone. Early in my career, I learned that trying to control every detail by myself leads to burnout and inefficiency. Today, I focus on delegation and trust. By training my team properly and assigning clear roles, we operate as a unit rather than relying on a single person. This structure helps reduce chaos, even during peak hours or challenging situations.
Personally, I manage pressure by staying grounded in preparation and routine. When systems are in place—clear recipes, proper sourcing, and open communication—many problems can be handled before they escalate. I also believe in addressing issues calmly and directly, without letting emotions take over. Stress is part of the industry, but how you respond to it defines your leadership. For me, staying composed, present, and solution-focused allows the team to stay confident and move forward together.
Do you believe discipline is something innate, or is it shaped through experience? How has your personal journey proven this?
I believe discipline can be both innate and shaped through experience, but in my case, it was largely formed through process. Growing up, discipline was introduced early—through family values and later reinforced through sports. My background as an athlete taught me structure, consistency, and accountability. Training schedules, physical conditioning, and performance expectations built a mindset that later translated naturally into the kitchen.
When I entered the culinary world, that discipline became even more essential. Professional kitchens demand precision, repetition, and mental endurance. There is no room for shortcuts. Over time, discipline stopped feeling like an obligation and became a way of life. It shaped how I work, how I lead, and how I make decisions. Today, discipline is something I live by and consciously pass on to my team, because without it, long-term consistency and growth in this industry are simply not possible.
By bringing Manado cuisine to a wider audience, what responsibility do you feel as its representative?
Carrying Manado cuisine onto a larger stage comes with a deep sense of responsibility. For me, it’s not just about serving food—it’s about representing a culture, a history, and the people behind it. Manado cuisine has strong roots, distinct flavors, and a powerful identity. My responsibility is to ensure that those elements are preserved and communicated honestly, without compromise.
That means staying faithful to traditional ingredients, respecting original flavor profiles, and being transparent about what we serve. If I choose to reinterpret a dish, it must still clearly belong to Manado cuisine. I don’t believe in misleading diners or diluting identity for the sake of wider appeal. Representing Manado food is about honoring where it comes from, while presenting it in a way that allows more people to understand and appreciate its depth.
How do you view the evolution of Indonesian cuisine—particularly regional dishes—in today’s modern culinary landscape?
I see the evolution of Indonesian cuisine as both exciting and challenging. On one hand, there is growing global interest in regional Indonesian food, which creates opportunities for local cuisines to gain recognition. On the other hand, modernization often brings the risk of losing authenticity. Trends move fast, and it can be tempting to adapt too much in order to stay relevant.
For me, modernization should not erase origins. Regional dishes should evolve in presentation, technique, or accessibility—but their core identity must remain intact. Indonesian cuisine is rich because of its diversity, and each region carries its own story. As chefs, our role is not to replace tradition, but to protect it while allowing it to exist in a contemporary context. When done thoughtfully, modern interpretations can strengthen appreciation rather than weaken cultural roots.
What is the most common misconception about Manado cuisine that you encounter, and how do you address it through your menu?
One of the most common misconceptions about Manado cuisine is that it is simply “very spicy” or “extreme” in flavor. While Manado food is indeed bold and expressive, reducing it to just heat overlooks its true complexity. The cuisine is deeply layered, built on balance—between spice, acidity, freshness, and natural umami from herbs and proteins. There is refinement within that boldness, even if it’s not always immediately visible.
Through the menu at Mata Karanjang, I aim to show that Manado cuisine is not about shock value. By refining techniques, controlling spice levels without losing character, and highlighting the role of fresh herbs and proper seasoning, we allow diners to experience the depth rather than just the intensity. The goal is education through experience—letting people discover that Manado food is expressive, nuanced, and deeply thoughtful.
Looking ahead, what does growth mean for Mata Karanjang—expansion, deepening the concept, or cultural preservation?
For me, growth is not defined solely by expansion. While physical growth or opening new outlets can be part of the journey, it is not the primary goal. True growth for Mata Karanjang means deepening the concept—strengthening identity, refining execution, and preserving cultural integrity. I want the brand to mature with clarity, not lose itself in scale.
Cultural preservation is at the core of that growth. Every step forward must still honor the roots of Manado cuisine. If expansion happens, it must be done thoughtfully, ensuring that quality, philosophy, and respect for ingredients remain consistent. Growth should feel intentional, not rushed. It’s about building something that lasts, rather than something that simply grows fast.
As someone who has experienced the F&B industry firsthand, what is the most important advice you would give to young people starting a career or business in this field?
The most important advice I can give is to understand that this industry requires patience, resilience, and humility. Many young people enter F&B with passion and ambition, but underestimate the amount of work behind the scenes. Long hours, physical fatigue, emotional pressure, and constant problem-solving are part of daily life. Passion alone is not enough—you need commitment.
I would also emphasize the importance of learning properly. Take time to work under experienced mentors, understand systems, and respect the craft. Don’t rush into opening something before you truly understand operations, ingredients, and people management. Success in F&B is built slowly, through consistency and discipline. If you are willing to learn, fail, and improve continuously, the industry can be incredibly rewarding.
If you could speak to your younger self at the beginning of your career, what advice would you want to give sooner?
I would tell my younger self to trust the process and not rush outcomes. Early in my career, there was a strong desire to prove myself quickly—to achieve recognition and success as soon as possible. Looking back, I realize that every phase, including the difficult and uncertain ones, played a crucial role in shaping who I am today.
I would also remind myself that failure is not something to fear. Mistakes are inevitable, and they often carry the most valuable lessons. Staying grounded, open to learning, and patient with growth would have made the journey less stressful and more focused. Success is not a straight line, and understanding that earlier would have brought more clarity and confidence.
What does Magani mean to you?
Magani represents a mindset rather than just a brand. To me, it reflects discipline, consistency, and quiet strength—values that strongly resonate with my own journey. Magani speaks to individuals who move with purpose, who respect process, and who understand that real performance is built over time, not overnight.
What I appreciate about Magani is its emphasis on functionality without losing identity. Much like cooking, it’s about balance—between form and function, tradition and modernity. Magani aligns with the idea of intentional living, where what you wear supports how you move, work, and perform every day. That philosophy feels very close to how I approach food, leadership, and life overall.
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