I have always been squeamish about having to cook Indonesian food. It was not because I don’t like them, just the opposite, I love them! I love them so much I couldn’t bear the thought that I might do damage to the memories of the food. It was fear that made me shy away from learning the spices. I always convinced myself that there were too many leaves to sniff and roots to recognize.
Yet I pride myself for being a good cook.
What kind of cook cannot cook his/her own food?
Another argument is that I don’t have to cook Indonesian food. It’s easier and cheaper to buy if one only need meal for oneself.
I’m not saying that the desire to master my own food never surface. It was there all along and sometimes I try my hand at it. Still squeamish. Still fearful. Still very much depended on recipes. I haven’t learned the language of the spices.
Then three months ago I got a chance to cook whatever I want, as much as I want, as often as I want. Our MD at the office resigned and as a result, we managers need not to babysit any bule expat anymore (another story, I’ll tell you later). We have the canteen and our lunch time for ourselves. Hip hip hooray.
The guys then asked me to utilize our factory’s meager kitchen we have to cook lunch. We can cook whatever we want. well, I have to cook whatever they request. Whatever, I need the challenge. I want the challenge.
…and so the journey began.
PS: next post will be recipes. I promise.