I loveeeee food! Oh yes! I do. All kinds of food. Fried, boiled, baked, toasted, sweet, savoury. Also various cuisines- Indian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, American.... well you get the gist. I have but tried to stir clear of some obvious delicacies- octopus, bugs, snakes, scorpions, “bats”. But other than these, I just love to eat. You will get the idea when you set eyes on me. But there is this one thing about food that I don’t like, I absolutely hate... now what is it called, I cannot remember... it was something rather important related to food... arreh... what was it???
Oh, yes! Gotcha. It’s called Cooking!
I don’t like to cook. My mum never taught me. When I was young, she used to say, you are a smart girl, you will learn how to cook on your own when you will grow up, hence now concentrate on studies. How wrong she was! Not the smart part, that I still am but just the cooking part. I have been married to a partner, who loves to eat home cooked food, for nearly 15 years now. My cooking is the only bone of contention between us. Thankfully he loves my other traits more than my cooking and hence we have stuck together for so long. Also, he married me knowing that I cannot cook, therefore, point of no return!
When I was trying to learn the reins of cooking just after my mum had suddenly passed away, I had made a pasta fiasco. I have always loved eating pasta and so one day my dad brought home Conchiglie pasta and I took charge to cook it. I fried the onions, veggies, a bit of chicken and then poured one packet full of pasta in the hot oil without first boiling them. Yeah, you guessed it right. That night we had to eat maggi while hearing the street dogs crunching down the rock hard pasta along with the other ingredients.
This one time, after my marriage, me and my hubby dearest were travelling on a long distance train. It was an overnight journey and I bravely volunteered to cook some food to take. I had been dying to learn the ropes of making aloo paratha and I wanted to show off to my husband that I can cook too. When we opened the dinner on the train, it was late after midnight and we were moving forward at breakneck speed leaving behind unknown stations and sleepy towns who would never know the predicament me and my husband were in. For in front of us were mini rock solid flying saucers which we could have used as weapons in case dacoits had attacked us. We remained empty stomach until the next morning when we got some breakfast at a small station. Thanks to younger age, our tummies didn’t give way.
There have been quite a few incidents time and again. Cake burning has been the most common. Although now I have learnt to cook some dishes, read pasta and paratha, the art of cooking still eludes me. I cannot for the love of God, fathom the differences between the myriads of masalas that Indian cooking consists of. Some need jeera, some black jeera, some dhania, some just powdered dhania. Some need grated onion, some diced, some sliced, some none at all. Same with potatoes and tomatoes. I cannot figure out the intricacies of fine cooking. Also, I lack the patience and am very lazy.
There are people who love to cook. I would be glad to leave cooking to them and rather sit down and enjoy their efforts and praise them for those. I really am in awe of people who can stir up dish after dish without even shedding a drop of sweat. I feel tired just after cooking 1 item. My husband has also given up hope about expecting good food from me. He just grumpily eats up what I can cook and himself picks up ladles and utensils when he wants to eat something special. He is even a better cook than me. But alas, the ropes of the kitchen still stay in my hand even though I would have gladly transferred them. Sometimes when the planets and stars align, some dishes do get cooked well and end up tasty but they are rarer than the blue moon in the sky.
Psst... since my kids have a clean palate, they kind of like my food. Thank God for that!