Of Pots and Pans

I remember when I used to be considered a ‘decent’ cook. And that was way beyond boiling water, let me tell u. I could dish up exotic dishes and cook up ‘creations’ of my own which were actually palatable...er...delicious! Granted my housemates at that time were somewhat nervous about tasting my inventions, their initial fear gave way to disbelief that it actually tasted good. Perhaps the fact that I would give names like ‘Stupid Chicken’ to my creations contributed to their apprehension. Heck, I was even considered worthy of the 3rd Prize at a cooking contest at university!

But where did all that ‘talent’ go? Did it disappear out of neglect? Was it subsumed by my acquisition of other skills like..er..er…using the hi-fi remote in complete darkness? Did it crawl under my bed when I was alsleep to be gobbled up by some unknown talent-eating monster (the same one who ate up my sewing skills). Perhaps it woke up one day and said to itself, “I want to leave town?” Well, whatever it is, its all gone now, well almost (in my defence I still do make wonderful cakes but that’s not REAL food!). I have not held aloft a wooden spatula crying out “This is war!” er..no..not really but well..erm..whatever… in a very long time.

Living with my sister who is a wonderful cook and her maid who in our circle is almost legendary, has spoiled me incredibly. My most recent test was when I had to start eating healthily, which meant I had to venture into that corner in my apartment and hold aloft a wooden spatula crying out “This is war!” or whatever….

As u can imagine, there’s little one can make without important ingredients like oil (because I was trying to lose weight) and salt (because I had high blood pressure, and increasing because of all the cooking I had to do!). So my cooking was only palatable to myself, well, that’s not even true. My meals were not only tiring but agonizing, (Enter Drama Queen) as I’ve had to hold back tears, think of England, chew quickly and swallow.

Of course the ingredients I bought were top notch - nothing but the plumpest tomatoes, freshest green vegetables and completely no-visible-fat chicken breasts. But as all good gourmands know, the finest ingredients do not make a chef. It’s the touch, the ‘X’ factor that separates the ‘men’ from the ‘boys’, the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’ in the Kingdom of Chefdom. Damn!

So I mostly eat out nowadays, a lot, actually. Luckily for me, I don’t get easily tired of eating virtually the same food everyday. I rotate between rice noodle soup with chicken n veggies and chicken tandoori. I have a regular place that I go, the waiter would see us arriving and I can almost read his mind – “Hmmm…wonder what she’ll have tonight? Soup or Tandoori? Oh yes, and black coffee, no sugar. Must not forget the spoon for the coffee for her to stir those mysterious white tablets in”

Dinner anyone?