Selera Kitchen: My Indonesian table in New York

When I first arrived in New York, the city felt too big and that never slept. Everything moved fast — the trains, the crowds, even the weather seemed to shift without warning. In the middle of all that changes, I searched for something familiar, something steady, something that felt like me, family and Indonesia. I found it in the kitchen. My kitchen is selera kitchen which is the place to create an appetite, Indonesian food.

The moment I unpacked my spices from the market; my kitchen will smell like our kitchen in Indonesia. the smell of shallots, lemongrass, nutmeg, cloves, chilies give aroma, Indonesian dishes. Suddenly it didn’t matter that I was thousands of miles away from Indonesia. The scent of sautéed shallots and garlic wrapped around me like a warm memory. Cooking became my anchor, my way of carrying home into a new place that didn’t yet feel like one.

My tradition Meets a New Beginning in New York.

New York introduced me to a world of flavors, but Indonesian food remained my compass. Each dish I cooked wasn’t just a recipe; it was a story behind it. A reminder of the kitchens I grew up in, the hands that taught me, the communities that shaped me. In a city full of noise, tradition became my quiet rebellion, my way of saying: I am here, and I bring my heritage with me.

The Flavors That Followed Me Across the Ocean

Some dishes became my special companions:

* Nasi Kuning that turns an ordinary day into a celebration

* Urap Sayuran that tastes like comfort and simplicity

* Ayam Betutu with its bold, fiery spirit

* Bolu pandan that carries the sweetness of family gatherings

Cooking them in New York felt like stitching two worlds together – the one I came from and the one I was learning to navigate.

Sharing Indonesian Food, not only with New Yorkers but Foreigners.

What surprised me most was how curious people were. New Yorkers love stories, and Indonesian food is full of them. When I cooked for friends, neighbors, or students, they didn’t just ask what the dish was – they asked where it came from, why it mattered, who taught me, what memories lived inside it. Slowly, cooking became more than a personal ritual. It became a way to build community, to teach culture, to create spaces where people felt connected. Food turned strangers into friends, and classes into conversations about identity, family, culture, tradition, resilience, and belonging.

A Table That Travels Without Leaving the Room

Every time someone tastes my sambal for the first time, I watch their face light up, sometimes in surprise, sometimes in joy, sometimes in that perfect mix of both. When they fold banana leaves, they always tell me how special it feels, how beautiful the table looks, and they end up busy taking videos and photos of every moment. And every time someone tries my nasi kuning, they say they love it; the fragrance of the spices makes the rice wonderfully aromatic, filling the room before the first bite even reaches their lips.

That’s the magic of food. It travels across cultures without needing a passport. It builds bridges where language sometimes fails. It is universal language and unconditional love.

Why I Keep Cooking

Cooking keeps me grounded. Cooking keeps me connected. Cooking keeps my heritage alive in a city that constantly pushes forward.And cooking is a platform of coping from the trauma.

Indonesian food is bold, generous, layered, soulful – and sharing it here feels like planting a piece of home right in the heart of New York. It’s my way of honoring where I come from while embracing where l am now. The layers of steps to make the food, from preparation, cooking and presentation will be a kitchen ritual.

And every time I cook, I’m reminded that home isn’t just a place.

Home is a flavor. Home is a memory. Home is a kitchen that smells like Indonesia, even in the New York. @shandrawoworuntu