ALI IMRAN BIN SHAMSUL HARISAH 2020968219

1. Piquant- having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavour.

2. Delectable- (of food or drink) delicious
3. Luscious- (of food or drink) having a pleasingly rich, sweet taste.
4. Ravages- cause severe and extensive damage to.
5. Rigor- a condition of stiffness or strictness
6. Clarity- the quality of being coherent and intelligible.
7. Resonated- produce or be filled with a deep, full, reverberating sound
8. Ephemeral-lasting for a very short time.
9. Evokes- bring or recall (a feeling, memory, or image) to the conscious mind.
10. Inflicted- cause (something unpleasant or painful) to be suffered by someone or something.

The smell of crushed garlic and piquant pepper awaken me every Saturday morning.My grandma
squatting over a large silver bowl,mixing fat lips of fresh cabbages with garlic,salt and red pepper in the
kitchen that would stumble into.Every weekend the delectable Korean dish,kimchi was born at my
house.

Every plate filled with my grandma kimchi everytime at the dinner table.And like my grandma who had
regularly staying with us,it seemed as though the heavenly smell of garlic would never escape our
home.But even the prided recipe was powerless competing the devastate of Alzheimer’s that ruined my
grandma’s mind.

She became as blank as a brand-new notebook as the Dementia slowly fed on her memories.The nature
of the Saturday morning disappear,during dinner,the artificial taste of vacuum-packaged factory kimchi
only remind the lost of family tradition.I looking and asking her,”Grandma what’s my name?With her
clueless expression she stare back at me.She lived with us like a total stranger within the year of year of
diagnosis.

One day,my mom brought me home some vegetables.She smothering the cabbages with garlic and salt
and pepper with the old silver bowl that she brought out.My nose was tingled by the familiar tangy
smell.The smell sat by the silver bowl lured my grandma from the couch in the living room then she dug
her hands into the spiced of cabbages.Her face grew a look of determination as the green lips shredded
by her bony hands.Though her wrinkled hands no longer present the speed and carefulness they once
did,her face tell the aged rigor of expert.The house resonated by the rattling of the silver bowl and the
smell of garlic for the first time in years.

That night,we ate kimchi.It wasn’t the greatest;the cabbages were awkwardly cut and the garlic was a
little too powerful.But the kimchi tasted great.”Here,Dong Jin.Try it,my boy”,the sentence that my
grandma saying when she putting a piece of kimchi in my mouth that I still remember.

Its moment of clarity seeing grandma again this summer but it seemes ephemeral as her illness become
worst told by the disheveled hair and expressionless face.
I could smell the garlic as I holding her hands and looking into her eyes.I still remember the moment of
Saturday morning.The cabbages was painted with strokes of red papper by an artist,which is
grandma.Like the sweet taste of kimchi,I wish to remember those memories in my keystroke as I type
away these words.

Piece of writing is not just writing.It recall,it influence,and it grab what time takes away.

“Tigers leave furs when they die,human leave their names”,grandman used to say it.Her legacy was the
scent of garlic that stick around my house,and this will be mine words.