Vincent Chang

JOUR 200

Professor Yee Ng

2 September 2021

A Homely Dinner

Along the streets of Urbana, apartment #204 is eerily inactive. I stand in my kitchen, lit

by dim candles, and notice the faint hum of the refrigerator, the crackles of burning wick. What

to make, I think to myself. My slippers shuffle across the floor. Curry! As I affirmed my choice,

I break the white noise, throwing the fridge door open. I reach for the ingredients, shuddering

from the cold air. The noise quickly grows. I pull out pots and pans, knives and vegetable

peelers, the works. Activity finally spurs in #204. I make quick work of the ingredient prep. Each

slice of the neglected knife puts more pressure on my fingers. I should sharpen this, I think to

myself, fully aware that it will not happen. I dump the ingredients into a heated pan, and the

smell of aromatics fill the home, sizzling quietly. Mingled with the food-scented candles, my

stomach cried for a premature taste of sustenance. I ignored and hurried with the cooking. I fill

the pan with water and drop curry roux, potatoes and chicken into the mix. A few rogue drops

sizzle onto the stove as I disrupt the still water. The water rolls to a boil, awakening beautiful

spices from the dormant roux. I take a deep breath, enjoying the aromas of turmeric and cumin,

among others. However, my vision fades along with the setting sun. I listen instead of watch.

The pot’s bubbles sound from a vivacious roar to a viscous boil, signaling the completion of my

homecooked curry. I scoop a large spoonful into my mouth directly from the pot. The feeling of

soft potatoes and pull-apart tender chicken is only enhanced by the nostalgic taste of the

Japanese curry. I can tell this meal is going to be amazing.