Tears in the kitchen

Today as I was peeling anchovies while preparing to cook for dinner, suddenly something my uncle said a few years ago popped into my head. "Hati-hati okay makan nasi goreng? Ada tulang ikan bilis sikit dalam tu. Nenek dah tua, dia tak buang tulang betul-betul. Sorry eh?"

And just like that, I was sat at the dining table with a sudden ache in my heart, tears in my eyes, and anchovies in my hands. It's funny, how something so simple and small can conjure up a memory of what had seemed like an insignificant moment on an ordinary day.

It wasn't the first time this happened. There'd been a few times when I'd be cooking and suddenly be reminded of my late grandmother, and I'd miss her so much. Like, it would actually physically hurt. One time, the memory of her came so suddenly that it caught me off guard and I burst into tears as I was adding salt into the pot. (Don't worry, the lauk didn't turn out extra masin and my tears didn't end up in the food either.)

The kitchen just generally reminds me of her, and I don't mean it as an insult in any way. My late grandmother was an amazing cook. I know this for a fact, not only because I'm her granddaughter and I'm super biased, but also because she used to be a cook in a palace back in the days.

When it comes to cooking, she was in a league of her own. My mum told me once that Nenek could just look at the steam rising up from a pot and instantly tell if the lauk had enough salt. I've been trying to work out the science behind this by observing steam (and looking like an idiot while at it), but I still can't see the difference. I mean, steam is steam. What exactly do I look for?

My Nenek was that good, guys. God knows how many other tricks she had up her sleeve. She got mad skillz in the kitchen. That's right, skillz with a 'z'. Cucunya?

... Takpa la, takyah cerita. Tak tahu apa jadi.

I used to be so nervous at the thought of cooking for my grandmother. Just the mere thought of it was nerve-wracking enough, so I couldn't ever imagine having her actually taste the food that I cook. Now, she never will.

I know that my heart has space for a lot of things and a lot of people. But I feel like tonight, my heart only has room for her, and it's missing her terribly. If only she knew.