2020

January 10, 2020 Silviana Khurniawan

This was not taken on New Year’s Eve. This was taken during our Engagement Dinner back in September 2019. This is just to illustrate the celebration and festivity we felt on New Year’s Eve, despite the absence of an actual party

New Year’s Eve was a quiet affair.

We spent a large portion of it sitting anxiously in front of our entry-level mini oven - as Richard, my husband (sometimes it still feels weird to say that), likes to call it - keeping an eye on the chicken we were roasting. The chicken was poulet de Bresse, which meant it enjoyed running around the farm throughout its life, and it cost us €35. So, you see, we wouldn’t want anything bad happen to it. Additionally, if we screwed up, we had no plan B for our NYE dinner. We had no other options but to succeed.

Flour, Eggs & Water

December 22, 2019 Silviana Khurniawan

Chicken mushroom noodle I made from scratch

It all started because I wanted to eat a bowl of fresh handmade noodles.

I wasn’t sure what possessed me but I suddenly had this very strong urge to make my own noodles at home. Fueled with determination after binge watching noodle making tutorials, I grabbed my keys and walked to the supermarket, bread flour and eggs on the top of my list.

And then, the unexpected happened. As soon as I mixed the bread flour with eggs and water, the scent of the dough filled the air. It was a scent so strangely familiar that I was heady with nostalgia.

Yes

December 27, 2018 Silviana Khurniawan

“Come here, come sit down,” you took my hand and ushered me to sit on the grey sofabed in my apartment.

I, having just applied a fresh layer of red liquid lipstick on my lips, must have furrowed my brow wondering what you were up to, but followed along anyway.

You sat me down, facing me, both of your hands clasped in mine. Your right leg suddenly bended, and before I knew it, your right knee landed on the floor. And just like that, you were kneeling in front of me, my hands still in yours.

Avelino and The Olive Trees in Monsaraz, Portugal

August 9, 2018 Silviana Khurniawan

The gust of wind from the opened car windows blew the last hope I had of retaining any volume in my hair. The scorching sun penetrated my skin, the leather upholstery of the car seat absorbing and distributing the heat faster than I could adjust my sitting position.

The highway was empty except for the occasional one or two other cars we passed by. I felt a strange sense of solidarity rising up with those cars, it was as if we were in the impossible race against the sun together.

I was sitting at the back seat of an older model of Mercedes-Benz taxi. Avelino, the driver, a Portuguese man in his 60s with a considerably thick mane of salt-and-pepper hair, was behind the wheels. We were heading to Monsaraz, a village I had no prior knowledge about, 2 hours away from Lisbon.