as you might've guessed by now, the mister is a man of many talents. and when it comes to cooking, we're complete opposites. i'll pore over a recipe, try to be as precise as humanly possible (nothing comes between me and my digital scales originally meant for gold but alas i've none to measure!) and get a little more worked up than necessary when things don't go exactly according to plan. control freak? maybe a little. which begs the question why i even cook to decompress.
in fact, we're having my girlfriends round on two consecutive mondays (these busy busy junior doctors, can never pin them down to the same day!) and i've already draw up a plan of action. it's supposed to be simple home-cooked, and it is, but i enjoy the planning and subconscious stewing aspect. the mister, however, is a more just wing it kind of cook. in fact, this is the man who sprouted the most beautiful wedding vows on the spur of the moment while i had spent most of the night before memorising mine. no surprises there... the jury's still out as to who's the better cook. i mean, hey, give our friends some credit. picking sides would be the surest way to invitation revocation!
i often concede defeat, most times far from graciously, and then the mister goes and cooks something so divine he makes me eat my words. i'm constantly amazed by how he's able to turn the simplest ingredients into something so wholesome and hearty. there's roast chicken, and there's roast chicken - a roast so good you lick the bones clean before using the carcass for stock. and the mister has a midas touch that i'm openly envious of, and he turns almost everything into culinary gold.
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