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Wednesday, August 01, 2007
I read an exceptional post on Tea & Cookies, titled: Is There a Food Gene? I regret to say that I am one of the unfortunate few people in the world who don't like their mothers' cooking. I wish I do, but I just can't make myself love the bland taste of seaweed-and-minced-pork soup. Or the dry lumpy fish that is cooked half-heartedly in a rice cooker with careless sprinkles of soya sauce on it. Did I mention the occasional odd vegetable, that is stir-fried in nothing more than chopped garlic and vegetable oil? In her post, Tea mentioned that she had to embellish her food to make it taste better. All I remembered was shoving down my dinner, and at the stroke of midnight, ravage through my very secret, very big stash of chocolate, potato chips, and cup noodles. And when I couldn't shove my dinner down my throat, I would open a can of something to go with the food (which is a daily fixture of rice, steamed fish, and stir-fried vegetable - note the singularity of this. Never in my life have I eaten a multicolored homecooked stir-fried vegetable dish). Needless to say, my bewildered parents nagged and chided, and my growth became stunted, becoming the shortest person in class in the least amount of time it took for me to grow. Furthermore, to add to my bad luck, my excesses were based on nothing more than a horrendous amount of salt or sugar, thus, I have failed to blossom into a food connoisseur. My mother is a food person. She loves restaurants and discounts and spices. She loves to eat, but she doesn't experiment much with her cooking. I, on the other hand, love to cook (only recently), but don't really like to eat, or compare the foods I've tasted, or even remember what they taste like. I love though, the rush of cooking, the reactions between each ingredient, how seemingly inedible things come together to make, say, cookies, and how people love the cookies, when in essence, they're only lumps of heated up oily flavored dough. I love everything about cooking. From the little swirl on top of a chocolate chip, to the reckless extra dash of vanilla essence, cooking is a grandoise display of bravado combined with careful expertise, and the end result almost always ends with, if not happy satisfied faces, then peals of laughter from unsuccessful attempts. Bing! at 9:35 PM | | Blogroll Me!
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I like to put things into
words and then see them string up and let people laugh at them like it's
confetti. Chocolate makes my day and I love trees and rivers and this
makes me seem quite the idiot but really, I'm a silly billy.