For the past few days I’ve been more actively learning to cook/cooking dinner for my family. My aim is to get good enough by the end of the summer to be able to prepare a full meal for 3 (that being my family). Actually, my aim is to get good enough so that Carmaine, Bee and Eunice will respect me because i can finally cook. I don’t quite like it when Carmaine teases me about not being able to cook (but she sure was proud when she taught me how to mash potatoes!) so I want to make her prouder now with more skills.
Today dad taught me how to stir fry chicken with onions and carrots. It’s not hard funny enough, all you got to do is prepare the ingredients, chuck in carrots and onion first, stir it around, then chuck in the chicken, stir that around, cover, then when everything is cooked, you serve it. Why did I ever think cooking is hard? (Haha that’s probably because I’m learning how to stir fry stuff.) Actually, I find baking incredibly confusing. For example, if you do things the wrong way, a souffle will collapse. I think, why?! Why make people make something that will unmake itself? So I leave all the baking intricacies to Bianca.
When I was peeling the carrot, and chopping the onions today (got a bit emotional) I kept on making it a Cooking Mama game. So when I chopped the onion in half exactly, I gave myself a “Gu-ret! Ee-ven bettah dan Mama” or when I couldn’t cut through the chicken (dad needs sharper knives) I gave myself a “yooh gaib it yor bes’ eh-fert.”
If life was a game…at the rate I play RPGs (something I had to explain to BRuCE as Role Playing Games. They in turn decided that The World Ends With You sounds lame) I’d need a constant save button or else I’d die just like that.
De Fluffe, Out.