[ It was as if
the only goddamned way
for Harmony to grow
was if Orsai was chained to her bed. ]
Orsai is alive.
Bedridden, but still breathing.
Despite the strange events leading up to the accident, Harmony swea...
The pediatric ward is filled with the low hum of children chattering, muffled foot steps and machinery.
It's almost lulling, comforting, until I make it to the right room
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
and then, then my steps f a l t e r because the door is open and I can hear her laughing and joking with the five other kids that share the large room together.
She's okay.
She's happy.
Clutching my bag and my lunchbox close,
I walk in.
A.N. Hello!
It's officially day #1 of my grandpa's visit and wow, I've learnt a lot already. In addition to learning a lot, I've also pigged out on so much food. He brought a sorts of dishes and delicacies from home that we can't find here, it was unexplainably lovely to be able to taste them again. Unfortunately, I wanted to taste everything and so I ended up giving myself a bit of a stomachache ˚‧º.(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º.˚
There are a lot of fables and folk tales about most of our traditional food. For example, Sumalak or Sümölök, which is a paste-y dish made entirely from germinated wheat (usually for occasions for new years, but you can buy it whenever from street vendors or cook it at home).
The tale behind that dish is that, centuries ago, there was a woman names Fatima and she was very poor. Because she had no money, she couldn't feed her children. So one day, she took some young wheat grass and started to stir it in a pot, along with some flour and water.
She stirred and stirred and ended up falling asleep. When she woke up, she found 30 angels around the pot. When she rubbed her eyes, they were gone. In the pot, the overcooked wheat grass had become a delicious porridge and, when she ate it with her children, they were never hungry again.
Apparently, Sumalak meant 30 angels back then and the name just stuck. I didn't take it too seriously when I heard the story but hey, every culture comes with it's tales, right? ; )
I've cooked it before and, what usually happens, is that women get together to talk and keep each other company as they all take turns stirring the pot. The dish needs to boil for about 13 - 16 hours before it's ready to eat, so it's an all day event lol :D
Sumalak is by far my favorite, I haven't eaten anything that I've liked more. I say this in all seriousness, no joke :O
What's your favorite food? Does your culture have any tales or stories? Lemme know!
