When I walk into my kitchen today, I am not alone. Whether we know it or not, none of us is. We bring fathers and mothers and kitchen tables, and every meal we have ever eaten. Food is never just food. It’s also a way of getting at something else: who we are, who we have been, and who we want to be.
A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table, 2009
Oooh… I agreed totally with Ms. Wizenberg!
Being away from my homeland and big family then added with the crazy Canadian long winter, most of the time I seek a comfort on the food. The delicious ones that have enriched my taste buds as I grew up. The food that could bring back the warmth feeling of being so much loved by both of my grandmothers also my mother. The food that I used to have as part of my social life with friends in many local restaurants or various street hawkers.
However, the only problem I always encounter since I have been living in this neck of wood is the limited choice of ingredients. The positive part of this limitation? I became creative in creating my own style of comfort food.
In every bite, with each scoop of my comfort food, I feel the presence of my loved ones.
In every bite, with each scoop of my comfort food, I realize how proud I am to be an Indonesian.