It was almost at the end of one-on-one session with my new client when suddenly a whiff of ripe cempedak perfumed my office.
"What are the things you think you want to change at this...........errr....do you smell that?"
"What? Not me I hope." He turned his head to his right shoulder and sniffed.
"No, no. I apology. I think I'd just smelled one of my favorite food from childhood. Never mind, the tree doesn' even grow in this climate, lets get back to your statement earlier."
After I left my office, I walked up to Ming Supermarket on Washington Street, six block away from my office. There were six frozen cempedak left at the bottom of the freezer. The cempedak was imported from Vietnam. On a clear plastic wrap, it said mini jackfruit. They should have sticked to cempedak, instead of mini jackfruit.
I use the last handful of rice flour to make the batter which was a little watery, but paird with a cup of hot chai, I finished all of it while reading The Rug Merchant by Meg Mullins.











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