Wednesday, 9 April 2008

cooking blues...

Girls are supposedly good cooks. (Men are better cooks, if they can, that is) I have this funny subject in my Plus-2. Nutrition- Where the practical exams allow me to cook to my hearts content and reveal my ultra-feminine motherly version. It’s the dream of every femme-hearts to cook for the man they love. I’d definitely love to cook for Tom Hanks. He has been, and shall be, forever, my only love… but then, trying to imagine myself is a tough job. The situation would be sort of the same as Charlie Chaplin serving Pamela Anderson. Chaplin would definitely feel shy. And then there are other problems as well. As I have now realised. Cooking takes patience which I definitely don’t have. And I tend to taste things while preparing and so I am bound to finish half the platter before it’s even over, burning my tongue in the process. Then there are the cats. You can never predict these sly souls. They are bound to come near everything that remotely seems like food, and they will even jump on the cooking vessel itself if they can help it. I don’t want a cat stew do I? Cooking reminds me of my mother who was preparing the shells of phuchkas. She tried to smell them right on the kadhai and burnt her chin. Burning oneself while cooking runs in our family. Other cookery escapades include lizard chasing, thinking that the smell of burnt food is coming from the neighbour’s kitchen while the phenomena was taking place in ours, etc etc. cooking is an art mastered by the womenfolk. And I have realised what a nikamma I am in cooking. (Don’t doubt it. I am a girl, though.)

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