The Taste Of Culinary Pandemonium.

August 27, 2011 at 4:08 pm (Uncategorized)


My Dad asked me to brew up some tea at around Iftar time yesterday, and to fry an egg at Suhoor. Here is what proceeded:

=>Tea- Halfway in the middle, he tells me to leave it to him, kid, and go do something else. He can handle it from here on.

=>Egg- I almost burnt my hands over the hot fry pan because it took me way too long to kibosh the egg shell in the middle; I forgot how to break an egg.

 

Why is this twenty-one year old so moronic?

 

Because her sister would cook for her during her prep leave before her second Professional exam. She didn’t let her cook jack.

And when she came back home after her exams, her mother cooks and she eats out and she munches random tasty stuff at iftars in her friends’ houses, hotels, fast-food outlets and blah blah blah. She doesn’t have to cook ANYTHING.

Ugh. Third person has finally succeeded in pissing me off after three paragraphs. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve become excessively queen-like because I’ve been well taken care of by the people around me ❤ And before you start grumbling about what a spoilt old ratty fat vache I must be, let me confess one thing- I would COOK A LOT BEFORE. And even if I have to say so myself, I would cook scrumptious food! Ask the people who’d see me cooking in my hostel’s kitchen- the ones that would force themselves over for dinner in our room. Ask these hands that would cook for compliments, and to show those people (the elders in my family/extended family) who thought I was a snotty kid who was only good at burning water that Miss Mimsy can cook for toffee and can in fact cook much better than  they do.

I learnt how to cook a year back when my male cousin who was a little older than me overheard my Aunt telling me how to cook chicken and other yummy-tummy stuff (I was sick and tired of take-outs and the hostel’s food, and was finally forced to surrender to the culinary arts which I  thought was cissy or mummy-like). He came in and started adding on to the recipes my Aunt was meticulously trying to explain. He gave advice that obviously showed that he had experience (tips you don’t get in cook books), and I was deeply embarrassed for being told by a guy how to COOK T_T

I asked him why he learnt how to cook if his mum and sisters were in the house? People your age game! He told me this, in a very sage-like manner:

Even though I am a guy, I may have to live on my own sometime. I may not always have a mother or sister around me. Besides, cooking is interesting.

And that was when I felt like my femininity was stomped on. It’s not just about knowing a feminine art- cooking. Most women are more mature than the men their age, and here I was, getting a 60 year old woman’s advice from a 20-something year old man.

Tears.

Woe on you, woman! Prove that you, too, have not lost hope of salvation, and you, too, can revoke your claims to femininity by learning how to cook.

And that’s when I brought the groceries, rolled my sleeves up, and put a ghost-buster type of determined face on. And I cooked my first chicken casserole. My sister told me it was tasty, and more importantly, I found it nice, too. The chuckle came up next, after the shock. And then the determination to whoop those aunts’ tootoos in the kitchen when I go to visit my condescending extended family next! XD

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