Pick a Word, Paint a Story #19

Hello everyone, on this occasion I want to join a contest held by @senehasa about "Choose a Word, Paint a Story #19"
Continuing my previous entry, I want to invite my friends @neyistar23 , @sur-riti , @xkool24 , to join this contest.

An old yellow house with white wooden windows. The house, in the hands of Grandma Rani, an old woman who is famous for her skills in the cooking trade throughout the village. Weekend after weekend, the kitchen of the house filled my nostrils with her special concoctions that invited anyone who might pass by to attend.

The next morning Grandma Rani woke up early. Today there was only a small event at her house, an informal birthday celebration for the late grandfather of her family. She planned to make the family's favorite dishes: yellow rice, rendang, lodeh vegetables, fried potato sambal, and of course her sweet layer cake.

The sounds—the hiss of hot oil, the clink of spoons in the pan, and the sound of boiling water filled Grandma Rani's kitchen.

"Yellow rice, honey. This is special rice. The color is bright, like hope and happiness," answered Grandma Rani while stirring the large pot. She added coconut milk, bay leaves, and turmeric which made the rice bright yellow.

After that, she started cooking rendang. Pieces of beef were slowly boiled in thick coconut milk rich in spices. The aroma was tempting, making Dika swallow his saliva.

"Why is it taking so long to cook, Grandma?" asked Dika curiously.

Smiling, Grandma replied, "Because rendang takes time to prepare" "the longer it is cooked, the tastier and more delicious the sauce.

Soon after, the neighbors came with plates and baskets of fruit, accompanied by laughter.

They did so, because they heard that the norm in Grandma Rani's house was not only a party but also a family.

The dishes began to pile up on the long wooden dining table in the living room. There was fragrant yellow rice, exotic yellow endang with strong spices, fresh vegetables from sayur lanang lodeh with crispy sweet sambal potatoes. The tiered, jewel-colored and colorful stacked cakes in the middle of the table looked like someone had taken this rainbow rain and made it colorful.

When the food was ready, Grandma Rani asked us to ask for a face. I raised my hand to thank the food and family, the parts of life that came alive as quickly as the minutes added up.

They feasted with great joy. Dika's cheeks were rosy at every dish. He especially liked the layered cake, which was sweet and chewy enough.

Food for Grandma Rani: more than just filling the stomach It was the language of love that never dies, it weaves memories and brings them back together.

Stories in every mouthful, there is love and there is a legacy from one generation to the next that is passed on — wrapped up in every sip.

She knew that one day she would learn the recipes for fragrant golden rice, tender rendang and colorful layered cakes — so that the love for that small kitchen would not be lost and never become a story.