Warning! I Cook
Actually I’m famous in our household for my cooking. But not in a good way.
Problem is partly my method and the self-styled expert flavor tasters. They're just fusspots.
My best meal efforts have been likened to “toxic waste” (unkind), “disgusting” (cruel), and “Why are you doing this to us?” (shocking).
Then again, once in a while (when there is a blue moon coinciding with Halley’s Comet popping over the night sky), the dinner eating clan carefully taste the tucker and shout, “It’s a miracle! This actually tastes okay.”
Talk about ungrateful turds (Hang on. Just thought of an unusual dinner recipe...)
Potentially, I could blame it on the ingredients. Making a meal out of nothing but a can of lousy beans is enough to make anyone regret selling the family cow. Make people crazy enough to start scurrying up the nearest beanstalk. Anything to check out the supply of golden eggs. But obviously we'd run out of them.
Actually, that's probably an exaggeration. Because we always have two ingredients on hand. Aside from beans we've got plenty of curry powder in the cupboard. Wondering if perhaps that's the problem?
Because I've often been accused of being heavy-handed with herbs, the combo of beans and curry have been said to be - well - explosive.
That means I've been told (no, begged) not to cook at all.
But I did think of going on one of those cooking shows once. As a fake master chef. Then let all hell break loose as the judges tuck into beans and curry. That would make the ratings, surely.
Meanwhile, I tough it out. Still cooking the inedible (so they say). Still making the best out of next to nothing.
But I've found a workaround. The perfect solution when cooking times are tough. Make sure your partner can cook!
Then, your beans and curry will turn out cordon bleu (whatever that means) and nobody is going to come up with smart remarks about a stomach pump. Because, frankly, I'm over it.