Bestie Prompt: Smells in the Kitchen
For as long as I can remember, there's always been a rice cooker in my mother's house.
There is also one in my Baba's house.
And my Aunt's apartment.
And my apartment.
It's Okinawa. Everyone has a rice cooker.
But there is nothing like the smell of fresh steamed rice coming to its completed end as the moist thick steam fills the air.
Rice paddle in hand, I always delight in being able to take the first taste. Plain fresh rice, sticky and hot, it's an explosive grain of ancestral flavor.
It's a staple food.
Comforting in its simplicity, but filling in its purpose.
It accents and lifts the other food it is paired with.
Much like myself. I too, am nothing beyond a lowly grain, sturdy and simple, prone to soften with a little heat.
Some people want to be the fancy expensive lobster dinner, fine dining, fine clothes, fine taste.
I just want to be the rice. Dependable, accommodating, warm, and filling.