Can’t cook, won’t cook
Apart from having many skills my significant half are gifted with (among others are shopping, shopping and shopping :), her cooking skill is the best none to other. The skill is so natural, she can prepare a good dish with just anything that is edible thrown into a cooking pot. Presumably she inherited this skill from her late mother, who was also very good at pleasing anybody’s taste bud.
One good thing about having a good cook in your house is that you don’t have to worry about what dishes to put on your dinner table day in and day out. In fact I don’t even have to think about the food at all. I just go back home and succumbed to my hungry appetite and consumed everything that was prepared on the table. As I am not a very fussy type-of-person when it comes into what to tuck into my tummy, any simple dish will do.
hubby : “Anything dear.”
wife : “Nasi beriani with Moroccan-style chicken or Nasi Bukhari with mutton cooked Iranian-style ?”
hubby : Anything will do dear.
wife : Or do you fancy a chicken masallah with shish kebab?
hubby: “Better get you hot pan(t) ready or I will have you for dinner instead!”
With such a good cook she is, who am I to complain?
Going abroad was the only time I can reclaim my excellent cooking skill. Thanks to Abang Brahim, cooking beef rendang was as easy as finding your way through London undergrounds. If you look close enough you will notice that I have not forgotten my past time delicacy, even thousand miles separate me from Losong Dato’ Amar. (my wife laughed at me when she saw the sorry state of that ‘khepok‘ – apparently the oil was not hot enough!)