The Romanticism of a Kitchen

I just finished frying some tunas when I stood by the kitchen window, enjoying the refreshing wind blew. For a moment I just stood still there. I enjoyed feeling the soft and unique taste of the morning wind touched my skin, the smell of the nice fried tuna and the unique smell of a boiled coconut milk used in the cooked soup, the warmth that came from the boiled oil on the pan…the wind kept blowing.

Then I looked through the window. I saw my mom’s plantations and flowers were moving left and right in a very gentle way like you see the professional dancers performing on the stage. the sky was also clear blue with some white clouds hanging on there. the sun wasn’t so bright. however, i thought the wind told me that the rain is on the way…

for a very short moment I thought, “I love my mom’s small kitchen. It’s not grand, but it’s lovely. If i’m gonna have my own kitchen one day, I definitely want the one with a perfect window like this.” I couldn’t believe that a shabby 80 x 120 m2 window can be so romantic.

architecture once told me that the visual aspect mybe important, but the most important thing is how the dwellers (human, us) feel when they use it. and unlike scuplture that touches human feeling through its visual performance, architecture touch human feeling through the defined space, the elements and the story that human can sense them with all their five senses. architecture is four dimensional and frankly to say, regardless the product and the hell-like process, it’s actually beautiful. I couldn’t believe that I almost forgot why I fell for it.

And i found cooking activity as exotic. Some people say it’s time consuming. Some others say it’s exhausting. For me cooking is an activity that will bring me to lose the sense of time and it’s refreshing.

Beefore entering the kitchen I gotta have an idea first. I have to know what I want to eat. I make visualisation in my mind, let my nose imagine how it’d smell and let my mouth arrange the perfect taste of the food i want to eat. The last thing to do before start cooking is have a look at the recipy…or just ask my mom for the right ingredient.

One example was what I did about few days ago. It was a tiring night after the work. I felt like getting a cold (again!) and a soar throat. It was a terrible rainy day, so the earth was wet and the weather was quite chill. I thought eating a porridge would be nice. So I went home, took a brief hot water bath, did my night prayers and then asked my mom how to make a porriedge. My mom gave a brief direction. I had to do this and that and after that don’t forget to do this and better doing it this way blablabla…and in just a moment I was ready to make my porriedge.

My mom told me all i need to do was just adding some salt to give the porriedge a little taste. but I don’t think that’s enough. I want the porriedge to be more tasty, to have a warm smell and to keep giving me warmth when it reached my digesting system. So besides salt, I was thinking about adding a garlic, pepper powder, a little sugar, a little fish sauce…I got oregano for the smell, but I hadn’t found the perfect material for the sustainable warmth. getting more pepper would probably give me the warmth, but it’d give bitter taste as well, so it wouldn’t be an option. ginger might be a good idea, but i didn’t think it’s suitable since it’s not a sweet porriedge. So I got two options: kapulaga (dunno the english) or cinnamon. I compared both smells and recalled their taste then imagined how each would taste on my porriedge. After a moment I thought cinnamon would give me a similar type of porriedge like if i put ginger on it, while kapulaga would give me closer taste to what i had imagined in my mind. So kapulaga is the ingredient I used.

I don’t know how long it lasted, but i remembered stirring the porriedge again and again on the stove until it’s cooked. and when the time had come for me to eat it (with a fried egg and tempe)…it succeeded to bring smile on my face. It’s pretty much like the porriedge i had in mind. 😉

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