As the first light of dawn breaks in the vibrant and historically rich neighborhood of Williamsburg, the morning atmosphere is imbued with a palpable tension that feels akin to the eve of a great battle, poised to erupt into a flurry of activity at any moment. At precisely 5 a.m., while the world outside remains enveloped in darkness and tranquility, the Rasa Rumah restaurant comes alive, buzzing with energy and adorned by sparkling lights that flicker with anticipation. Inside, the kitchen pulsates with an energy reminiscent of a well-orchestrated military command center, where Rizwan stands as the unwavering commander-in-chief, expertly directing his team of culinary troops with precision and authority.
The preparation table is a hive of activity, elegantly cluttered with vacuum-packed gudeg brisket, meticulously arranged and ready for dispatch to Queens. Surrounding this central focus, large pots of coconut milk simmer gently on the stovetops, their creamy aroma radiating warmth, as they are prepared for the exquisite rijsttafel meal that has been designated for the prestigious White House. Meanwhile, the cooler is brimming with succulent wagyu satay, all waiting eagerly for their moment in the limelight as they are scheduled to be showcased in an exciting cooking demonstration. The air within the bustling kitchen is thick with an appetizing aroma—a harmonious blend of the fragrant young jackfruit, the sweetness of caramelized palm sugar, and the spicy kick of roasted cayenne pepper, culminating in a sensory symphony of flavors that must be nothing short of perfect as the team gears up for the intense and demanding next 48 hours.
Rizwan stands tall in the pulsating heart of the busy kitchen, his black apron dampened with sweat and determination as he commands his team with a firm and encouraging voice. "Miguel, what's the status of the delivery to Queens? We need 100 servings of gudeg to be in the truck by 8 a.m.—ensure the brisket is perfectly cooked at 75°C through the sous-vide method, and double-check the coconut milk sauce to prevent any risk of curdling!"
With weary eyes that reflect the late-night hours he has dedicated to this culinary endeavor, Miguel gives a reassuring thumbs up while continuing to stir the thick batter in a giant pot, his movements a testament to his commitment. "Everything is on track, Chef! Aldi is currently busy preparing the bamboo boxes, and Raka has already taken care of the QR code labels for Dita's captivating recipe story. The FedEx truck is all set to arrive in Flushing at 10 a.m. for a soft opening rehearsal that we are all eagerly anticipating."
Meanwhile, Aldi — whose hands tremble slightly as he strives to finish his tasks with utmost precision — interjects with a sense of urgency. "Sir, what about the VIP gudeg for the White House? We have 20 premium portions ready to go—A5 brisket from Japan and our organic jackfruit, which was flown in from Yogyakarta just yesterday."
Rizwan nods with unwavering confidence, his gaze sharp and focused. "The VIP order is of utmost priority. Make sure the plating adheres strictly to the Secret Service specifications: the brisket must be sliced to a perfect thickness of 0.8 cm, accompanied by a glossy sauce crafted from double-reduced coconut milk, krecek infused with luxurious truffle and double-fried to achieve a delightful crisp at 175°C, and eggs cooked sous-vide at exactly 63°C for 45 minutes to achieve those perfect soft yolks. To top it all off, we will sprinkle a golden orange leaf tempura garnish—this isn't just food we're making; it's a culinary masterpiece designed to make a bold statement!"
Shortly thereafter, Emma bursts forth from the back office, clutching a laptop as she delivers an important message from the Secret Service that resonates through the kitchen speakers. "Riz, there's confirmation from DC: the rijsttafel demonstration is officially scheduled for Monday at 6 p.m. in the East Wing. President Trump himself has specifically requested that we incorporate bold Indonesian spices into the event. However, Reza has sent an email suggesting a collaboration with a chef from Paris as a backup plan in case we feel overwhelmed by the demands of this event."
Rizwan, reacting with a wave of frustration, slams his knife decisively onto the cutting board, his voice echoing his anger. "Collaborating with someone as a backup? That's an affront to our capabilities! Tell Reza that Rasa Rumah can stand strong on its own. We will ensure the VIP gudeg is sent out Monday morning via private jet cargo—there will be no compromises!"
As the clock strikes 7 a.m., the unfolding drama intensifies: the jackfruit supplier, plagued by a storm in Jakarta, has fallen two hours behind schedule! Without hesitation, Rizwan contacts Dita, ready to forge a swift resolution. "Dit, this is a full-blown emergency! The jackfruit for the highly anticipated VIP gudeg is stuck in transit! Do we have any emergency backup stock that can be utilized?"
Despite a hint of panic in her tone, Dita remains adaptable and responsive. "Riz! We have 50 kg of Mom's special gudeg secured in the warehouse refrigerator—young jackfruit with peak acidity, all enhanced with our homemade coconut milk. I'll have it dispatched via express flight this morning with Garuda cargo, and it will touch down at JFK tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. She sends you her love and prayers!"
Relief washes over Rizwan as he smiles with gratitude. "You're all heroes! I truly appreciate this. My deep affection for Nusantara knows no bounds."
Meanwhile, news from Queens comes crashing in via Miguel's walkie-talkie: "Chef, chaos is reigning at the opening rehearsal! The AC is malfunctioning, and test customers are voicing complaints about the rising heat. On a brighter note, we've managed to sell out of 50 servings of gudeg in just one hour—the Yelp review is already glowing at 4.8 stars!"
Emma immediately takes control, her leadership evident as she rallies the team. "Miguel, hurry up and rent a portable air conditioner. Let's promote this as the 'Queens Heatwave Gudeg' special—buy two, get a free lemongrass ice! Aldi, don't forget to capture stunning photos of the plating for our social media campaign to make it go viral on TikTok!"
A cruel twist occurs at 10 a.m. when a phone call from Adam delivers thunderous news. "Rizwan, we've encountered bad news—the venue owner in Queens has abruptly raised the rent by 20%! They claim it's because foot traffic in Queens has skyrocketed due to your Michelin buzz. We either pay up or vacate the premises next month."
Rizwan, his eyes ablaze with anger, looks at Emma. "This is a scam! The contract clearly states the rent is fixed at thirteen thousand. Do we attempt to renegotiate this, or is it time to seek a new location?"
Emma thinks on her feet, her strategy forming rapidly. "We must negotiate firmly. Threaten them with negative reviews on Yelp and pull all promotional support targeting the diaspora. As a backup plan, we can operate a mobile food truck in Flushing tonight to test the waters without commitment!"
Rizwan nods in firm agreement, impressed by her ingenuity. "What a brilliant idea. Miguel, let's prepare the food truck menu: gudeg boxes priced at $15, sate lilit as an enticing offer for $8. The location will be the Golden Mall parking lot tonight."
What began as a long day soon evolved into an exhausting marathon. The crew diligently rotated shifts to manage the immense workload: Raka busied himself boiling an impressive 200 kg of vegetables for the rijsttafel, expertly blanching long beans in salty water for precisely 40 seconds before shocking them in ice to keep the vibrant green color fresh, while Aldi meticulously ground 50 kg of sambal matah, his movements precise as he sliced onions into 2 mm thick pieces, roughly chopped chilies, finely chopped lemongrass, all combined with just the right squeeze of lime juice. Miguel, too, added his part to the frenzy by preparing escargot rendang, utilizing local French snails, which he sous-vide in an aromatic rendang sauce set at 82°C for six hours, while expertly baking puff pastry until golden and caramelized at 200°C.
At 3 p.m., Reza unexpectedly appears at the restaurant, holding a box of exquisite pastries from Paris, his expression earnest. "Rizwan, I caught wind of the turbulence in Queens. These pastries are a gift—Michelin-starred and intended as a backup for the White House. Would you consider a collaboration?"
Rizwan fixes a cold stare upon him, an air of determination in his voice. "Thank you, Reza, but we are quite capable of managing this ourselves. This endeavor isn't merely a competition for us; it's about proving our worth through our craft."
Reza shrugs indifferently, his demeanor casual. "Fine, it's your decision. But if things go south, just give me a call."
As the sun sets and the clock strikes 6 p.m., the food truck's debut in Queens is met with overwhelming success, attracting a long line of eager residents: the queue stretches to an impressive hundred people! The Golden Mall parking lot bursts with life as the mouthwatering aroma of gudeg draws a crowd from the surrounding diaspora. Aldi adeptly serves the eager customers, his enthusiasm evident as he promotes, "Fresh gudeg boxes straight from Williamsburg—featuring tender brisket and jackfruit with a tantalizing sour twist!"
The instant reviews flood in, with one customer proclaiming, "The Rasa Rumah truck outshines any fine dining experience! A resounding 5 stars!"
As night falls, back in Williamsburg, the team finally collapses in exhaustion following a day filled with relentless challenges. Emma wraps her arms around Rizwan, pride radiating from her. "We survived what can only be described as a crazy day. The White House event is tomorrow—are we all set?"
Rizwan gazes upon the gleaming silver tray, proudly filled with the intricately prepared VIP gudeg, satisfaction etched across his face. "Absolutely ready. However, I sense tomorrow brings something even greater ahead... according to Mr. Budi, Trump has expressed a desire for a private dinner with his favorite chef."
Emma blinks in astonishment, her mind racing. "A private dinner?!"
Just then, a knock on the restaurant door announces the arrival of Secret Service agents dressed in sharp black suits. "Chef Rizwan? We're here for the final briefing regarding the White House event. There's a special request coming from the Oval Office."
With their hearts pounding and uncertainty lingering in the air, what exactly could Trump's mysterious request entail? Did Reza have ulterior motives laying in wait behind the scenes? Would the operations in Queens maintain their success, or were they nearing an unexpected catastrophe?
***
At the early hour of four in the morning, nestled within the vibrant, yet subdued surroundings of Williamsburg, the Rasa Rumah restaurant operates under an atmosphere that teeters on the edge of calm and anxiety. It resembles the secret headquarters of an elaborate international military operation, buzzing with a sense of urgency and meticulous focus. The dedicated staff, whose expertise is unmatched, deftly prepare an impressive array of meticulously crafted dishes. Each culinary element is perfected and synchronized with precision, all in anticipation of a grand event that stands as a hallmark of significance— a lavish banquet at the esteemed White House, one of the most influential venues globally, where decisions that shape the course of nations are made. The restaurant's signature gudeg dish is carefully presented on luxurious, vacuum-sealed trays designed for VIP guests, glinting under the soft lights. Meanwhile, the rijsttafel components— a staggering 200 skewers of succulent wagyu satay, 50 servings of rich escargot rendang, and a staggering 20 kilograms of sambal matah arrayed in jars—have been diligently loaded into a state-of-the-art refrigerated van. This specialized vehicle is part of FedEx's premium service meant to transport critical items directly to the White House, ensuring that every detail is attended to with the utmost care. Rizwan, the head chef, is deeply engrossed in the task at hand, double-checking the shipping manifest with an intensity that rivals a soldier preparing for battle. "Japanese A5 brisket confirmed, sous-vide cooked at 75°C, jackfruit from Yogyakarta supplied by Dita, and caramel puff pastry without cracks," he meticulously recited the preparation list, each item rolling off his tongue with a mixture of pride and urgency. Outside, the cold morning air in Brooklyn mingles with the warm breaths of the dedicated kitchen team, who have been working tirelessly for an exhausting 18 hours straight.
Inside their makeshift command center, Emma, the restaurant's operations manager, expertly controls communications through a headset linked securely to the Secret Service. "Agent Harris, the estimated time of arrival for our cargo jet at JFK is 6:00 a.m. The VIP meal is scheduled to arrive in Washington, D.C. by 10:00 a.m., allowing us ample time to prepare for a live rijsttafel demonstration set to take place in the East Wing at 6:00 p.m. Could you please confirm if all the special requests have been finalized?" she states with a resolute confidence that suggests the hours of preparation leading up to this moment.
Responding with an authoritative steadiness, Agent Harris relays from D.C., "Affirmative, Mrs. Rizwan. The President of the United States has specifically requested a surprise Indonesian spice—please maintain complete discretion. There will be 50 VIP guests in attendance this evening: prominent diplomats from Asia, media representatives, and even members of the Trump family, all of whom have received the necessary security clearance. As a precaution, a backup menu has been prepared by a renowned French chef, which is readily available if needed."
Hearing this news, a wave of determination surges through Rizwan, igniting a fiery fighting spirit in his heart. "A French backup chef? I've got news for Harris: Rasa Rumah doesn't require a backup. We're committed to delivering excellence or we won't stop until we achieve it," he declares with fervor, channeling the passion that fueled their culinary endeavors from the outset.
Meanwhile, Miguel, with nimble fingers, loads the last of the equipment into the van, his movements precise and practiced. He shares exciting news bubbling from the streets, "Chef, just got an update from Queens: the food truck sold out all 300 portions last night! Our Yelp rating has soared to an impressive 4.9 stars, and the owner of Golden Mall has approached us with a proposal for a permanent contract. The rent is back to a hefty 13 thousand per month, though, but it's worth it!"
The atmosphere shifts to one of celebration as Aldi jumps for joy, clapping his hands together. "Uncle, you won't believe it! There's a viral review making rounds: 'The Gudeg Truck is melting Chinatown!' To top it off, Raka's stunning plating photo, beautifully presented in a traditional bamboo box, has gone viral on TikTok—it's amassed an astonishing 500,000 views!"
Raka, invigorated by the news, chimes in with a note of caution, "But we should be aware that Reza made an appearance in Queens last night, covertly snapping photos. He was acting suspiciously, almost like he was a spy gathering intel."
Emma's expression darkens with worry. "Reza again? We've got to exercise extra caution now. Our primary focus must remain on flawlessly executing the event at the White House first and foremost."
As the clock strikes five in the morning, the van rolls out, surrounded by a skilled police escort, rumbling steadily toward JFK. Meanwhile, Rizwan and Emma prepare themselves for the commercial flight to D.C., packing their carry-on bags with striking, all-matte black chef uniforms designed specifically for Secret Service protocols, complete with embroidered name tags. Onboard the plane, Emma grasps Rizwan's hand tightly, her face filled with concern and encouragement. "Feeling nervous?" she inquires, her voice tinged with empathy.
Rizwan gazes out the window, his eyes lost in the vast expanse of clouds stretching tirelessly across the morning sky. "This is not simply about cooking for Trump—it's about showcasing Indonesian cuisine on a stage that the world will witness. One misstep in presentation or one slight off-flavor could lead to tomorrow's headlines screaming 'Indonesia's Culinary Failure,'" he reflects, the weight of the task at hand heavy on his shoulders.
Emma, determined to reassure him, responds with unwavering conviction. "You were born for this moment, Rizwan. Recall Mr. Joko's message: 'Flavor from the heart cannot be bought,' and let that drive you forward."
Upon their arrival in Washington, D.C. at 11 a.m., a sleek black Secret Service SUV awaits, prepared to transport them directly to the East Wing kitchen preparation area—a hidden culinary stronghold, boasting sophisticated equipment including a high-capacity Vulcan commercial oven, a top-of-the-line military-grade ventilation system, and an ultra-cold -4°C cooler designed to preserve their ingredients in peak condition. Agent Harris steps forward, relaying key information succinctly. "Chef, the live demonstration is scheduled for 6:00 p.m. and will last for 90 minutes. The President's expected arrival is at 6:30 p.m. The menu order stands as follows: sate lilit for the appetizer, a grand main course of gudeg brisket rijsttafel, with klepon truffle for dessert. Please note that no photos are to be taken without prior approval. Should there be any form of failure in execution, we must prepare for immediate evacuation."
Rizwan nods, absorbing the gravity of the situation. "Understood. Has the VIP gudeg arrived yet?"
"It is due in just ten minutes," Agent Harris assures him.
With impeccable timing, the VIP gudeg arrives, elegantly displayed on a shiny silver tray, the tantalizing aroma of sour jackfruit perfectly mingling with the richness of thick coconut milk wafting through the kitchen. Rizwan swiftly opens the seal, checking the condition of the delivery: the brisket is luxuriously tender, the truffle crackers maintain a delightful crunch, and the eggs boast golden, glossy yolks. "No flaws detected. Team, get ready for the final preparations!"
A whirlwind of activity ensues as they enter the marathon of preparations: satay lilit is expertly grilled over a portable charcoal flame heated to 200°C, getting brushed with aromatic lemongrass oil every two minutes to intensify the flavor, while escargot rendang is artfully reheated using sous-vide at 82°C, with the puff pastry baked at 190°C for precisely 12 minutes until it adopts a stunning golden brown complexion. In tandem with this, sambal matah is freshly ground, ensuring it remains vibrant and full of life. Emma takes charge of the front of house, energetically arranging the table with an impressive 20 feet of pristine white linen, adorned tastefully with a batik runner and complemented by a low-volume gamelan playlist that sets an authentic ambiance.
At precisely 5:45 p.m., the grand East Wing doors swing open, revealing none other than Trump himself, followed closely by Melania, Ivanka, a distinguished gathering of diplomats from around Asia, and representatives from CNN who buzz with excitement. "What an incredible smell wafting through here!" Trump exclaims, his enthusiasm unmistakable. "Indonesia? What a bold choice indeed!"
Advancing with respectful poise, Rizwan steps forward to extend his warm welcome. "Mr. President, we are delighted to have you at Rasa Rumah. This experience is Rijsttafel Nusantara—20 flavors interwoven into one extraordinary story."
Trump grips Rizwan's hand with a firm shake, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, "I've heard the Michelin buzz surrounding your name. Make sure to spice it up—I relish winners!"
As the live presentation commences: Rizwan skillfully grills satay in view of the guests, while Emma energetically pours sambal theatrically beside the beautifully set table. Throughout the excitement, Ivanka captures this captivating moment on her phone, all while keeping within the boundaries established by the Secret Service. One of the Chinese diplomats leans in, complimenting, "This gudeg carries an authentic twist that truly reflects its roots from Jogja!"
However, just as the event is reaching its peak at 6:45 p.m., unforeseen chaos erupts! The oven designed for puff pastries begins beeping frantically, signaling an overload! Amidst the confusion, Reza's backup pastries unsettlingly surface in the cooler—clearly an unexpected disruption! Agent Harris instantly springs into action, his alarm evident. "Who placed those French pastries here? Is this a breach of security?"
Confusion and shock ripple through the room, Rizwan is taken aback, his heart racing, while Emma leans toward him, whispering nervously, "Could Reza truly be attempting to sabotage us?"
Trump, witnessing the unfolding drama, raises an eyebrow and inquires, "Is there an issue at play here?"
Without missing a beat, Rizwan, quick on his feet, improvises with ingenuity, declaring, "Mr. President, true chefs thrive under pressure, the real test lies in our ability to adapt!" He promptly ignites a flambé using Balinese arak for the additional satay, cleverly transforming the rendang puff pastry into delicate crepes on an instant grill, and presents the klepon dessert flambé, impressively executed on-the-spot. The guests erupt into applause, with Trump voicing his approval, "Now THAT'S a bold move! The best fusion I have ever tasted!"
As the cameras roll for live broadcast, a CNN correspondent enthusiastically declares, "Rasa Rumah has triumphantly saved dinner at the White House!"
As the evening draws to a close and the event wraps up, Rizwan receives a phone call from Reza. "Congratulations... the pastries were intended as a 'gift.' It was not sabotage, simply a precautionary measure," Reza explains, albeit in a somewhat ambiguous tone.
Rizwan's response is concise yet icy. "Next time, you need to ask for permission first."
Once they return to Queens that night, the excitement continues as the food truck hosts yet another successful party: all portions sold out yet again! Miguel beams with pride as he embraces Aldi and Raka, exuding excitement, "You guys have become true heroes in our community!"
Yet, lurking in the shadows is a lingering worry: an ominous anonymous email stating, "Success at the White House? Reza has hidden connections with the landowner in Queens. The game has just begun."
Who could this mysterious adversary be, crafting these emails? Is Reza a friend or a foe? Is Rasa Rumah poised to ascend to new heights or ensnared in a deceptive trap? The unanswered questions hang thick in the air, as anticipation for what lies ahead pulses like a steady heartbeat.
***
The White House victory still resonated like the echoing sounds of gamelan music throughout the kitchen of Rasa Rumah restaurant in Williamsburg. However, the next morning, the atmosphere changed drastically when a new problem, more severe than Rizwan could have ever imagined, suddenly arose. At around six in the morning, the phone wouldn't stop ringing—first from Miguel in Queens: "Chef! Our branch in Queens was vandalized last night! The 'Rasa Rumah' neon sign out front was ripped off, our batik mural was defaced with the crude words 'Go Home Indo Scum', and all the gudeg stock in the refrigerator was dumped into the gutter! The police are already at the scene, and CCTV shows two masked individuals carrying out the act!"
Rizwan immediately jumped out of bed at lightning speed, waking Emma, who looked very panicked. "What happened?! Miguel, don't clean up or touch the scene yet! Emma and I will be there soon. Call our lawyer, the insurance company, and Adam!"
Meanwhile, Emma was already on her laptop, busy checking the anonymous email she had received the night before. "Riz, look at this, there are GPS coordinates of the vandalism location—near Golden Mall. And... there is a photo attachment showing Reza in front of the Queens landowner the night before the opening event. This is not just random hatred—this is a planned and targeted attack!"
In the car on the way to Flushing, Rizwan immediately called Mr. Budi from the Consulate General of the Republic of Indonesia. "Sir, our branch in Queens was attacked! It appears to be a hate crime, but a focused one. Has the White House buzz project made us a target?"
Mr. Budi spoke with a tense voice. "Rizwan, I am coordinating with the NYPD hate crimes unit. This is likely related to Asian culinary competition—Reza has ties to a major Chinese landowner in Flushing. I will send a diplomatic team to provide support. Stay safe!"
The situation in Flushing was chaotic: the area was cordoned off with yellow police tape, and members of the diaspora community gathered to take photos of the vandalized graffiti. Miguel shows low-quality CCTV footage: two masked figures are visible, one carrying a baseball bat with "Paris Elite" written on it. Aldi and Raka help the team clean up the broken neon lights, their eyes red with tears. "Uncle, we lost 500 servings of gudeg! What about tomorrow's opening?"
Rizwan hugged them tightly. "We will rebuild stronger than before. Miguel, move all operations to the emergency food truck—park it in front of Golden Mall as a form of peaceful protest. Today, we will provide free food to the diaspora community, and include the hashtag #RasaRumahResilient!"
Emma was busy coordinating coverage with various media outlets: local CNN, Eater NY, even Fox News started calling because of the connection to the White House project. "Riz, we have to turn this into a positive: 'Attacks can't kill taste'. We can create a viral wave of sympathy!"
But there was a new, thrilling development: the Queens landowner suddenly appeared with a lawyer, wearing an expensive suit and speaking in a cold voice. "Mr. Rizwan, the lease is considered void. The rent will increase to 25 thousand or you have to leave. This 'damage' is the tenant's responsibility."
Rizwan stared at him sharply. "Nonsense! The CCTV clearly shows external vandalism. We have witnesses, insurance claims, and reports from the NYPD. Do you want to fight it out in court? Fine—we're ready to expose the syndicate of rogue landlords in Queens!"
The landlord slowly backed down. "We... will negotiate."
While the police were conducting their interrogation, Reza unexpectedly called directly. "Rizwan, I heard about Queens. This is very tragic. Do you want me to contact my landlord friend? Solidarity among Paris chefs."
Rizwan secretly recorded the conversation. "Reza, stop pretending. Even though our CCTV footage is poor, the Paris Elite logo is clearly visible on the stick. Do you want to make a confession or would you rather wait for a hate crime subpoena from the FBI?"
Reza was silent for three seconds, then laughed coldly. "Paranoid. Good luck rebuilding. The White House may be the only chance—the real power lies with the permanent Michelin stars."
After the call ended, Emma showed him a new email: "Anonymous source: Reza is offering support from Michelin Paris to take over the Queens landowner. The target: forced acquisition of Rasa Rumah through an emergency sale."
That afternoon, a spontaneous demonstration took place by the diaspora community around Golden Mall: around 200 people came carrying banners reading "Save Rasa Rumah," accompanied by a live broadcast on TikTok that reached 1 million viewers. Even Mayor Adams sent a tweet expressing his support: "NY stands with Indonesian resilience." The emergency food truck managed to sell out 1,000 free portions of gudeg in just three hours—long lines snaked around the block!
That night, the team gathered in the emergency crisis room in Williamsburg. Miguel spoke enthusiastically: "Chef, our food truck in Queens went viral with 5 million viewers. But what about the second vandalism threat tonight?"
Rizwan looked at the team with confidence: Aldi and Raka looked tense, Emma held data files from the lawyer, Miguel felt steady with the knife in his hand like he was holding a sword. "We will fight back intelligently. Tomorrow: there will be a press conference from the Indonesian Consulate General, legal action against the rogue landowner, and... a counterattack."
Emma asked, "What counterattack?"
Rizwan smiled mysteriously as he opened his laptop displaying the blueprint for "Rasa Rumah Empire"—comprising five locations in New York, a training academy for the diaspora, and a global franchise roadmap. "We won't rebuild Queens. We will conquer all of Flushing. Buy the Golden Mall parking lot and turn it into a Nusantara food center. We will collaborate with the local Chinese diaspora, we will turn the tables."
But something fantastic happened: the door was knocked on by the Secret Service agent who had returned. Agent Harris entered carrying a black briefcase in his hand. "Chef Rizwan. There is a special award from POTUS... and a personal contract offer. Trump's Culinary Initiative: Taste of Home has been appointed as the official supplier for Indonesian state dinners. But there's a condition: you must testify about Reza's syndicate in the Senate hearing as a form of immigration business threat."
Rizwan looked at Emma and his team, who were frozen in silence. Testifying meant waging total war against Reza's empire. Accepting Trump's offer meant playing with hot politics. Reject it? Then the empire's blueprint would crumble.
Emma whispered, "Which path will you choose?"
Rizwan stared at the remaining White House VIP tray of gudeg—a symbol of victory. "We'll take it all. The Senate hearing, the empire, and Trump's offer. But tomorrow... something bigger than all of that awaits."
The door opened again: Dita appeared directly from Jakarta, carrying a suitcase in her hand. "Surprise! I heard about the chaos in Queens. Are you ready to help the gudeg army rebuild? And... I brought a secret weapon from Mother."
Could the secret weapon Dita brought revive them from their downfall? Will it be the war in the Senate or Trump's trap? Reza's revenge or an unexpected ally? Will Rasa Rumah fall or rise again like a phoenix?