Why I cook

A friend once asked me why I like to cook. Well, it does seem that many females on this tiny island can’t or don’t like to cook. I think it’s because they don’t like to do the dishes. That’s probably why I don’t cook as much as I’d like to. The oil! The sink! And all the pots, pans and plates!

So. For the reasons.

#1 It’s therapeutic. Stirring, chopping, whisking… the repetitive motion uses a different part of the brain from when I’m working and thinking about what to say next.

#2 I like seeing people happy. And so I like feeding them. But I also like sitting down with them and enjoying the food. Let the conversation be the centrepiece though, not the food. It’s enough for me that the food’s good, and even the most fussy eater little tyke of all times wants something from the dinner table.

#3 My dad’s a great cook. He introduced me to so many different tastes and expanded my horizons. Savoury papaya soup with pork ribs? Rice steamed with star anise and lap cheong? Rice with cranberries (or was it pomengranates) and some nuts? Check, check and check.

And it’s been really good cooking with daddy now that he’s back in town. He’s head chef, i’m sous chef. mummy is the breakfast chef and food critic for all other meals, and the sis just wants to eat and not get fat.


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