On Wednesday, the 25th of January, I was the happiest girl alive.
After 8 years of being in a relationship, the boyfriend finally cooked for me!
If he hadn’t bragged about a “power” curry dish he’d cooked years ago, I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask him to cook for me. I wanted so much to taste this “power” curry, but he said he’d lost the recipe. Nevermind, I assured him. Cook me something else!
He’s the nicest guy around and I love him to death, but if there is one bad thing I can tell you about him, it has got to be that he can be so damn paranoid. I admit, sometimes it’s cute to see him so silly breaking a sweat over small the stuff, but other times it can be plain annoying!
Initially, he didn’t even want to bring his dish because according to him, it was a total failure. These were some of the things he said, just to give you an idea of the degree of failure that was his dish:
“I tasted a bit and I felt like puking.”
“….too many mushrooms….affected the taste.”
“….accidentally put too much basil.”
“I threw everything away and tried again.”
“….what’s the name of this dish? I name it “Disaster”!”
“….cooking’s just not for me….never ever going to cook again after this.”
Yes, he threw his first batch. And apparently even his second batch was again a failure that he wanted to trash it, too. But I was adamant that he brought some for me. So he did, and threw the rest away. He even planned to bring chocolates just in case I wanted to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.
Listening to all this, I was expecting the worst. Who wouldn’t, after all that was said? But I still wanted to taste it for myself.
When I opened the food container, it actually smelled good! I took a spoonful to my mouth and nervously chewed, waiting for that wave of nausea to overcome me, for the moment where I’d have to spit out everything to make way for the regurgitation of noon’s lunch.
But guess what.
IT NEVER CAME!
Instead, I felt myself wanting to take another spoonful. And another spoonful, and then another, quickening my pace with every bite.
The sheepish look on his face turned incredulous as he shook his head in disbelief. How could I ever in a million years think it was good….or any good at all, for that matter?
That, my dear friends, is the extent of my boyfriend’s paranoia. At the end of my fabulous meal, whilst still high on cloud nine because my boyfriend had put in so much effort to cook a meal for me, I couldn’t help but feel sore that he threw the rest of it away when it could’ve ended up in a much better place….my stomach.
What a waste!
A teeny tiny reason why I wanted him to cook for me (besides wanting to consume food lovingly prepared by him) was so that he would know firsthand that cooking isn’t so simple. Of course when I say this, I don’t mean from a passionate cooking expert’s point of view. Put yourself in the shoes of a cooking noob (me), who probably isn’t that interested in cooking in the first place. So after experiencing himself how laborious it can be, I’m hoping he’ll realise that it would be unreasonable (verging on cruel, if I’m allowed to exaggerate) if I were expected to do the cooking alone in future. He hasn’t asked me to do anything of the sort, but I’m sending the message across anyway.
Even though the concept of “a woman’s place is in the kitchen” may outwardly sound passé in this day and age, don’t be surprised if that seemingly modern man you’ve just met still believes in this. Women have done things for men for so long — that’s not going to change any time soon.
But I shan’t have any part in it. I’m more interested in building a love kitchen, where we will bond over cooking. Who knows, with the heaps of fun we will have, I might even start to enjoy cooking!
My colleague gave me the splendid idea of signing up for a couples cooking class. Now if only I can find a halal facility….