Dreams of Devi

The Goodness of the Alwi Family

The tomato paste I made is done. Ms. Salma is still struggling with her chicken curry. I got another job, cleaning cucumbers, lettuce, and basil for the vegetables later.

"Bu Salma actually has a show what? How, cook a lot of gini?" ask me who is curious.

"There's no show really. Uh, but it's a 17-year marriage, anyway." Ms. Salma laughed.

"Well, today, ma'am?" many enthusiast.

"No, it was a month ago." Ms. Salma laughed again, and I followed along. I can have my humor that chirp.

"Pak Basir can't cook, yeah. Bring the side dishes from here. Mas Alwi!" shouted Miss Salma.

"What's up, Ma?"

Alwi is now neat with short shirts and knee-length pants. His face looked fresher. It's much better than it was.

"Please tell Mr. Basir that our daughter has been kidnapped. All of you say do not cook, then we bring it to his house," explained Miss Salma who made me again could not help but laugh.

"Ready, commander!"

A moment Alwi left and returned with his cellphone. He then seemed to wait for the call across there to be picked up.

"Hello, assalamualaikum Mr. Basir!" Alwi.

"Greetings waalaikum, Mas. What's up, nggih?" Looks like Alwi purposely clouded the call speaker so that me and Miss Salma could take it too.

"This, Miss Devi I still kidnap. She's home now, so aunt in my house. Busy cooking with Mama." I heard you laughing.

"The message has not come home yet. Yeah, not papa, my mom."

"Pak Basir don't cook, yeah. Let's go hungry."

"Gee!" Spontaneous me and Miss Salma laughed at Alwi's words.

"Eh, that means don't cook because later we pack food from here. Guaranteed to be good, sir!"

"Thank God, thank you, Mr. Alwi. Later if until night, Nduk dare to go home? If I don't pick it up." Hm, I'm overwhelmed. Why are you worrying me so much.

"Don't worry, sir. I'll take responsibility, I'll take it!"

"Oh Allah, it's troublesome. Sorry, yes, Mas Alwi."

"No, really, sir. I sat quietly at home with Rehan. Don't forget to breathe, yeah. Hehehe, sorry, sir. I'm just kidding, I'm." You laughed so hard, I never found it when I was with you.

"Yes, Mas. Wait, yeah. Someone wants to buy chicken. I turn it off, assalamualaikum."

"Waalaikum salam."

After closing the call, Alwi stared with a funny smile at me and Miss Salma in turn. He could have joked to a super quiet father. I alone as his son never laughed off his father's joke since he was a teenager.

"Well, you have permission" Alwi told me.

"Next don't take her home, Al. I'm brave, really."

"Who wants to send, it was just so that Mr. Basir is not a hassle." Alwi laughs.

"Eh, Mas Alwi, that's not okay! Relax, ma'am, it will be delivered, really!"

"Joking, Dev. I don't know I did!"

"Mas, this morning's bread seems to still be there, huh? Can I have a hand to take it?"

I'm so impressed with Mr. Herman's family. It seems adab and manners are so taught here. More precisely taught in the form of exemplars. Alwi's parents did not just tell, but gave an example.

"This bread, isn't it, Ma?" Alwi brought a small basket of cookies as he often brought to school.

"Yes, put it on that table. Let's eat Miss Devi."

"Now, Dev, take it yourself, yeah. Usually the most fun, right?"

"Okay, Al."

"What are you busy doing, Dev?" ask Alwi who then approached me.

"Udah is done, pure vegetables, anyway."

Alwi picked up a piece of cucumber that I had prepared. He then walked towards the dining table to chocolate the cucumber with the chili. I watched him, would he comment?

"This is Mama or Devi who made the sauce?"

"Mbak Devi's. Wh why? Yummy?"

"Dine, Ma. It feels right, very suitable if you become a sambal ulek." Alwi brandished his thumb.

How does this mean? Is this a compliment or something? I mean, isn't there a job that's faster than just a sambal collector? Wife-to-be for example, uh.

"It's really good to say. Mama who does not agree with Mas Alwi's words!" Miss Salma defended me.

"Can fit, Ma, hahaha. It's all set, Ma?" Alwi looked dizzy looking at the dining materials provided on the table.

"The fried tempeh hasn't. Papa can't eat without fried tempeh. Devi's mom can fry it, right?"

"Can, really, Mom."

"Yes, I'm helping you, Dev." Alwi grabbed the patch of leaves and opened it.

Well, Alwi has reduced my burden even just a little. Tearing and yawning are already within my reach. I'm used to making my own tempe condiments rather than buying instant seasoning flour. Coincidentally the ingredients in the kitchen of Bu Salma are very complete, as if to be a paradise for lovers of cooking activities like me.

"You know what it's called, Dev?" tanya Alwi pointed at the ingredients that were ready in the cobek. Ah, he's kind of trifling me.

"This is garlic, turmeric, if this is called coriander," I said, pointing one at a time.

"Isn't that pepper?"

"If it's a pepper whose circle is larger. It's coriander."

"Oh, that. Oh, how about flour?" I was shocked to hear Alwi's words. At home I used to fry flour-clad tempeh.

"What is usually?" my many.

"Mama is usually fried without flour. Yeah, right, Ma?"

"What's wrong?" Ms. Salma was curious and approached us. Maybe he was too busy with chicken curry that was finally ready.

"Devi makes the dough starchy for the temple."

"No papa, the fried tempeh is spiced up."

"Yes, deh. Anyway all that time you, whatever you do is always right, Dev." I grimaced. The truth is that Ms. Salma always stood up for me.

I started the stove to fry tempeh. On top of his leg was a frying pan that had filled with oil before. While waiting for the hot oil, I joked with Alwi.

"Are you really hungry?" my lead was on Alwi who propped his chin on the back of the chair. He looked like a starving child.

"Yes, here. Not eating lunch, anyway."

"Who doesn't eat? Mama told you to too, right? So that kid mbok yo never be reckless, Mas." Ms. Salma came from a room with some plates and spoons. Alwi must be really upset.

"Yes, that. The child himself continues to be scolded. If others are loved." Wow, it seems to be insinuating me.

"Your anger means love to you, Mas. If not dear, Mama must have told me to eat, told to learn," said Bu Salma lecture Alwi.

"Yes, yes, Ma. I love Mama, deh." Alwi approached Ms. Salma then gave her a hug and a kiss. Hmmm, I miss Mom.

Oil that is hot immediately quench with tempe with flour dough. Alwi came up to me, maybe he was interested in the sound produced from the frying pan.

"It smells good, Dev. It must taste good too. The sauce was definitely more steady," said Alwi while looking at the pan.

"Not less tasty as tempe without flour. It's my favorite with Rehan."

"Maybe it'll be my favorite too." Alwi laughed a little.

Alwi was still waiting beside me until the fried tempe was ripe. Just lifted up, Alwi had run and got me a plate.

"One, yes, Dev." Well, it turns out that was the motive of his kindness.

"Back, Dev. I'll do it again, but then if everything's ripe, then." Well, right, addictive.