A mastery of mushrooms and their uses could help me survive in a post-apocalyptic world—a world that didn’t feel all that far away.
I sought a cherished symbol from my own childhood, not a standardized emblem of all Indonesian culture, which I can’t and shouldn’t pretend is all mine to take.
Miraci is being the one thing blackness has always been forced to be even when unwilling—political.
“I wanted to be present in Paris. I forgot to be present with my family.”
This Eid will not be Eid until I’ve spent time crying and laughing, describing the aromas of foods that are not here.
Holding on to our cultural foods and customs was a labor of love, but labor nevertheless. American Night provided a little respite.
“FOE!” he had yelled, when really, phở is more graceful than that.
I want to be the bridge between his memory and her love for cooking.