Flavors that Say 'Welcome Home'

Love Served on a Plate
It’s a signature trait of many Asian families, including those in Indonesia, to express love through food. Meals aren’t just about satisfying hunger—they’re a heartfelt way to show care and attention. In every family celebration, you’ll always find a special dish made with extra effort, a delicious reminder of how deeply love can be expressed through cooking.

In my family, this tradition is alive and well, especially when I come home after being away for a while. My warm welcome usually comes in the form of my favorite dishes, carefully prepared just for me—sometimes even starting from scratch after I arrive. The reason is simple: for us, the joy of eating doesn’t come from the food alone; it’s about the shared moments at the dining table, with everyone present, that make it truly special.

There’s something irreplaceable about sitting together, sharing stories, laughter, and memories over a meal made with love. These dishes, though they might seem straightforward, are anything but quick or easy to make. They require time, effort, and a whole lot of patience. Maybe that’s what makes them so meaningful—they’re a labor of love, best enjoyed in the warmth of togetherness.

Now that I live alone in Panyabungan, life looks very different. My cooking has become more about practicality than presentation or complexity. I stick to simple meals—nothing fancy, just enough to keep me going. Still, there’s a quiet satisfaction in preparing my own food and knowing exactly what’s in it, even amidst the hustle of everyday life.

That’s why every trip home feels so special. It’s not just about catching up with my family; it’s about savoring the comfort of home-cooked meals, those dishes that carry an extraordinary warmth. At home, I can take my time enjoying meals—not alone, not rushed, but surrounded by love and the sense of belonging that’s hard to find anywhere else.

Mie Rebus 
When it comes to family favorites, mie rebus is a dish that stands out—not just for its incredible taste, but for the way each spoonful feels steeped in Medan’s rich culinary heritage.

The noodles, locally called mie lidi, are long and thin, with a unique texture that gives the dish its signature Medan identity. But the real star is the broth—a dark brown, flavorful base made from the addition of palm sugar and tomatoes, creating a perfect balance of natural sweetness and freshness.

The depth of the flavor comes from a medley of ingredients: shallots, garlic, pepper, candlenuts, ginger, shrimp, and dried shrimp (ebi). And then there are the aromatic spices—galangal, lemongrass, star anise, cardamom, cinnamon, and bay leaves—that elevate the dish to another level. Every spoonful of the broth carries a warm, fragrant aroma that feels like a comforting hug.

When served, the noodles are paired with fresh bean sprouts, soft fried tofu, crunchy cucumber slices, and topped with celery and crispy fried shallots. Every bite is a symphony of textures and flavors, coming together in perfect harmony to satisfy both your hunger and your soul.

And of course, no bowl of mi rebus Medan is complete without the fiery kick of sambal made from bird’s eye chilies. Just a dollop of this spicy condiment transforms the sweet-savory broth into a bold, addictive flavor explosion. For us, mi rebus Medan is more than just a dish—it’s a taste of home, a culinary tradition that stays close to our hearts no matter where we are.


Rendang
If there’s one dish that makes me incredibly proud to be Indonesian, it’s rendang sapi. This iconic dish is so much more than just food—it’s a symbol of tradition, culture, and meaning. In my family, rendang is always the centerpiece of any big celebration, and cooking it isn’t just another kitchen task. It’s a moment that brings us together, filling the house with warmth and the unmistakable aroma of something special.

Making rendang starts with simple yet top-quality ingredients: fresh beef and coconut milk. We follow a family rule that’s never up for debate—one kilogram of beef must be paired with the coconut milk from one pair of coconuts. This precise ratio ensures the dish turns out tender, rich, and perfectly balanced in flavor every single time.

The spice mix is where the magic truly begins. A combination of red chilies—both fresh and dried—is blended with shallots, garlic, galangal, candlenuts, and lemongrass to create a fragrant paste. To enhance the aroma, we add thinly sliced turmeric leaves and lime leaves. Star anise and cinnamon give the dish an extra layer of depth and warmth, while a touch of palm sugar (a slight deviation from the original Minangkabau recipe) gives it a subtle sweetness that’s uniquely ours. This small adjustment makes our family’s rendang feel even more personal.

The cooking process, though, is where the real art lies. Everything—coconut milk, beef, and the spice paste—is combined in a large wok, along with star anise and cinnamon from the very beginning. It’s cooked slowly over medium heat, with occasional stirring to keep the coconut milk from curdling and to ensure the flavors meld perfectly. Patience is key, as the dish isn’t done until the coconut milk has fully evaporated, leaving behind tender beef coated in a thick, intensely flavorful sauce.

For us, rendang is more than just a dish—it’s a celebration of culture, a nod to tradition, and a shared experience that strengthens our family bonds. It’s something we’re proud of, a taste of Indonesia that always holds a special place on our table—and in our hearts.

Rendang Jengkol
In Medan, there’s a quirky tradition that might catch some people off guard—turning jengkol into rendang. Known for its strong and unmistakable aroma, jengkol undergoes a complete makeover when cooked this way. The rich, spice-filled seasoning seeps into its chewy texture, transforming it into a dish so flavorful it’s almost addictive. Even for someone like me, who didn’t pay much attention to jengkol at first, rendang jengkol was a game-changer.

But every time I talk about rendang jengkol, I can’t help but laugh at a little memory. Back when I lived in Panyabungan, I completely avoided jengkol. Not because I disliked it—I actually enjoyed it—but because I was way too paranoid about the infamous "side effects." Let’s be real: the smell of jengkol has a habit of lingering, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that kind of commitment in my daily routine.

Beef Soup
Out of all the homemade dishes I’ve ever had, my eldest sister’s beef soup is the one that never fails to make me feel completely loved. It’s become a kind of "homecoming ritual"—something she always makes whenever I come back home. There’s a warmth in every spoonful that’s hard to describe, like a comforting hug you can taste. Despite its simplicity, this soup carries an irreplaceable sense of comfort.

I know, though, that making this soup is far from easy for my sister. Beyond the challenge of the rising cost of beef, our kitchen tools are still very basic. This means she has to put in extra time and effort to tenderize the beef—or sometimes the ribs—until they’re perfectly soft and create a rich, flavorful broth. She often starts preparing it long before I even arrive, patiently working through each step to make sure it’s just right. By the time I walk through the door, the soup is ready, radiating its signature warmth that feels like a true welcome home.

To me, this soup is more than just a dish. It’s a heartfelt gesture, a symbol of genuine love and care. Every time I sip the warm, savory broth and bite into the tender beef, I’m reminded of how special these small, quiet family moments are. This isn’t just about feeling full—it’s about feeling loved in a way that’s so simple, yet so deeply meaningful.

Lontong Sayur
When I think about breakfast that reminds me of home, lontong sayur is the first thing that comes to mind. While some people start their day with something light and simple, in my family, breakfast means indulging in this rich and flavorful dish. It’s a perfect balance of complex flavors that somehow feels like a warm hug to kick off the morning.

A plate of lontong sayur starts with the star of the show: lontong—rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves—that’s soft, aromatic, and serves as the perfect base. On top of that, there’s fried mi lidi, seasoned to perfection for a savory crunch that’s hard to forget. Then come the add-ons: tauco ebi (fermented soy sauce with dried shrimp), tofu, and crispy dried tofu skin. Each ingredient adds its own unique touch, layering the flavors beautifully.

And of course, everything is brought together by the rich, spiced coconut milk broth with chunks of tender chayote. The broth is thick, creamy, and packed with warm spices, tying all the elements into one harmonious dish. Every bite feels like an adventure for your taste buds, yet it’s somehow soothing and familiar at the same time.

For us, lontong sayur is more than just breakfast—it’s a family tradition that makes mornings feel special. Each component is prepared with thoughtfulness and love, turning a simple meal into something memorable. Whenever I think of lontong sayur, it’s not just the flavors I remember, but the feelings of warmth, care, and home that come with it. Even when I’m far away, this dish always brings me back to the heart of my family.


For me, food has always been more than just something to satisfy hunger. Every dish served at home tells a story, carries a bit of love, and holds irreplaceable memories. There’s a loving touch in every meal, an effort to bring warmth, and an unspoken tale that feels so alive and real.

Maybe that’s why, every time I come home, these homemade dishes feel like a heartfelt welcome—like they’re saying, “Welcome back—this is where you’re always accepted, just as you are.” I know that behind every plate, there’s love, carefully poured into each step of the process. Each bite isn’t just about tasting the flavors—it’s about feeling the love and care that make it so special. It’s an experience that nourishes not only the body but also the heart and soul.