The rain began early that morning, tapping gently on the rooftop like a quiet song. Dark clouds curled across the sky, and the soft light gave the little kitchen a cozy glow. Lala, a bright-eyed girl with boundless curiosity, sat by the window, watching droplets race down the glass.
She loved rainy days. They slowed everything down. The world felt softer. The fields turned a deeper green, and the air smelled fresh and earthy. But what she loved most was the feeling of being inside, warm and dry, while something delicious simmered in the kitchen.
Lala’s grandmother, whom she called “Yai,” shuffled around the kitchen in her worn slippers. Yai had a gift—she could turn the simplest ingredients into something unforgettable. And today, she had something special in mind.
“Lala,” Yai called, her voice kind and steady, “How about a young pumpkin dish today?”
Lala’s eyes lit up. “Young pumpkin? Is it the kind that’s soft and sweet?”
Yai smiled and nodded. “Exactly. Tender and fresh. Just picked from the garden yesterday. I’m going to make it the way my mother used to make it on rainy days when I was your age.”
Lala hurried to help. She fetched the basket of young pumpkin, still slightly muddy from the garden. The pumpkins were small, smooth, and green, their skin delicate and thin. When sliced, the flesh was pale orange and almost buttery.
Yai began peeling and chopping, and Lala watched closely, learning every movement. Cooking with Yai wasn’t just about the food—it was about the stories, the memories, and the quiet joy they shared.
As the rain danced harder against the roof, Yai heated a pot and added a splash of coconut oil. The scent of garlic and shallots filled the air. Next came a spoonful of yellow curry paste, sizzling warmly. Then the chopped young pumpkin went in, followed by a bit of water and a scoop of creamy coconut milk.
The pot bubbled gently, releasing a rich, sweet aroma. Yai stirred slowly, humming an old lullaby. Lala set the table with two bowls, a plate of rice, and a small dish of pickled vegetables. Everything looked simple, but comforting.
Soon, the dish was ready. Yai ladled the young pumpkin curry into the bowls, each piece tender and golden, soaking in a fragrant coconut broth. She sprinkled a few fresh basil leaves on top and handed a bowl to Lala.
Lala took her first bite. The young pumpkin was soft and slightly sweet, with a creamy texture that melted in her mouth. The curry was mild but full of flavor—just enough heat to warm her belly without making her nose tingle. The coconut milk smoothed everything out, creating a harmony of taste she couldn’t stop savoring.
“This is amazing, Yai,” she said, between spoonfuls. “It tastes like sunshine in a bowl!”
Yai chuckled. “That’s how I felt when my mother made it. Rain outside, warmth inside. The taste brings back everything.”
They ate quietly, listening to the gentle rhythm of the rain and the occasional chirp of a frog outside. The world seemed wrapped in a blanket of calm. No rush. No noise. Just the sound of rain, the warmth of food, and the love between a grandmother and her granddaughter.
After lunch, Lala helped wash the dishes. As she dried the last spoon, she asked, “Can we write the recipe down? So I never forget how to make it?”
Yai nodded and pulled out a small, worn notebook. “This book has all our family’s favorite recipes. You can help me write this one.”
Together, they wrote:
Yai’s Rainy Day Young Pumpkin Curry
Ingredients:
– 1 small young pumpkin, peeled and chopped
– 1 tbsp coconut oil
– 2 cloves garlic, minced
– 2 small shallots, chopped
– 1 tbsp yellow curry paste
– 1 cup coconut milk
– 1/2 cup water
– A pinch of salt
– Fresh basil leaves (optional)
Instructions:
- Heat the coconut oil in a pot.
- Add garlic and shallots, sauté until fragrant.
- Stir in the curry paste and cook for a minute.
- Add chopped young pumpkin and stir well.
- Pour in coconut milk and water.
- Simmer until pumpkin is tender.
- Add salt to taste.
- Serve with steamed rice and fresh herbs.
Lala read over the words carefully and smiled. “I’ll make this for my children one day, Yai.”
Her grandmother patted her hand. “And they’ll feel just as happy on a rainy day as you do now.”
Later that afternoon, Lala curled up by the window with a book, the smell of young pumpkin still lingering in the air. The rain had slowed to a gentle mist, and the sky had started to brighten. She looked out and saw tiny green shoots in the garden, leaves sparkling with raindrops. Life was quietly growing.
She felt full—not just from the meal, but from the love that surrounded it. A simple dish, made with care, had turned an ordinary rainy day into something unforgettable.
And in her heart, she knew she’d remember the taste of that young pumpkin dish forever.
