Modesty aside, I used to be a good cook. No, make that a great cook – that was according to my wife.
When she was still with us, and I would be cooking, my dish would always turn out good, if not perfect... and it was not just my word.
But like what I said, that was when she was still here with us. Now, I seem to be an alien in the kitchen. I can’t seem to make heads or tails. Really, the kitchen is not my domain.
Easily, I could always ask her before. I would know what to do next, which ingredients to put in first, what are the signs that I would be looking for – boiling, smoke, browning, burning... err, how many minutes, I mean. Just like having a backseat driver, although it was most welcomed and much need.
