It's true that I've graduated from the deep fryer stage. The stage where we fried chicken, fried fish, fried potatoes and meatballs and sausages and bread and hash browns and everything under the sun that came from the FROZEN section of a supermarket. It's also true that I've learnt since that vegetables need chopping, dicing, slicing, and every other knife skill known to man, and that onions don't come in cans, and that garlic isn't the best thing to handle before going out. Also that ingredients need buying, the oven needs heating up and the chicken needs dissecting.
But at the end, I'm still substandard. Undercooked vegetables, disastrous trifle, mediocre curry and sticky rice are the hallmarks of my culinary skills. I have a problem with cracking eggs...the eggshells still get stuck sometimes and I have to fish them out with my fingers. Chopping chicken is a recently refined technique that I find very tiring and irritatingly necessary, considering the amount of chicken we go through in a week. In short, if someone is catering for a dinner party, J Ling is not where he'd go.
But still, I retain some small pride in being given the responsibility of feeding 6 ppl dinner once a week, and of being able to whip up lunch for myself without much trouble. And though my attempts at desserts usually go awry, my housemates are generally truthful, and it makes a good laughing matter at the end of the day. So at the end of it, I guess cooking is not something I'd turn to if I had a spare hour or so(unless I'm hungry, which typically seems to occur about 12am daily), but I guess it's worth noting I'd probably still be uneducated about the finer points of stir frying had I not come to the UK. So my sad attempts are glorified in this space, if not to entertain you, then at least to serve as a warning to anyone that dares cross the threshold of I3.
Sorry am feeling really sleepy now. For some reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment