I have to get another way of saying this,but before then sail along;right and wrong are variables,so is good and bad. I love cooking but that don’t mean I am a great cook. I could be in a good mood and make great stew and while feeling otherwise you can hardly feel the taste of tomatoes in the soup. One time I put excess salt on dough meant for making chapatti and my dads comment broke my heart..next time please remember to put salt in the dough and not dough in salt.
My mom made me take a whole load of that excessively salted wheat meal. I hated it and silently promised my self a change. If this change happened you would have seen my recipes in your favourite cook books. The energy and thought I give to preparing meals plus the purported change would have made a great tripod and therefore a reknown chef. But again we always learn and in my class today I’ll reveal my secret ingredient. Not just yet. My mom cooks without spices and since she prepares most of the meals plain has become our normal. Amongst my friends in school, I would rarely ever volunteer to make stew,to avoid embarrassment from using a spice or certain ingredient where it shouldn’t be used.
One time my boyfriend paid a visit and I decided to surprise him with a meal he loves,how he loves it. Sardines laced with coconut. I didn’t know when to have the coconut introduced to the stew and frankly speaking I didn’t think it mattered anyway for as long as the stew has it. Period. I didn’t know he was watching and even if I had known I wouldn’t have thought of him as a critic. Long story short I put it at the wrong time and the stew didn’t taste anything like coconut. I was embarrassed. Bad cook. Some other day I made him chapatti and in the morning they were real tough then he dropped the bomb..are these iron rods,my friends mom makes chapatti which stay soft for days on end.. I felt bad but I can’t complain when clearly I could have done better
Accepting that I am not a good cook comes hard. Especially in a society where women ought to know how to cook. That’s the route to a man’s heart they say. With the comments my boyfriend makes I doubt if I took the right way. When mama’s not around I’ll be the first one in the kitchen at midday making lunch. I get a lot of why did you nots . I make peace with that too because that is my way . Not the best but honest. The one ingredient I won’t forget to incorporate ever is love. Try it. And if you can’t write a recipe, let’s enjoy kitchen stories together.