I do eat at home sometimes. I even entertain. And while I can lay claim to being a half decent cook, I can't take responsibility for the smorgasboard of plenty laid on my humble bamboo table last Friday night.
Well, that's not entirely true. I did rather skillfully open some tinned tomatoes. I biked around to the corner shop for a missed ingredient on the day's shopping list. I fried the tofu and bean curd skin for my vegetarian friend. And, as any cook would appreciate, I kept on top of the washing up, keenly eyed the signals for certain utensils and plates and, I quite like this bit, happened to be on hand when flavours and seasonings needed checking.
Bloodywell indispensible, I was.
That's bending the truth a bit.
But I am naturally one of those people who dwells in kitchens. I am not of the 'food simply as fuel' breed of human. I do not meet my food solely at the table before shovelling it into my chewing mechanism so that I can continue functioning. I like to do it and see how it is done by others in kitchens. I invariably learn a simple technique, a faster way to peel a vegetable or a good use for a knife handle.
So, again I mostly watched on, this past Friday night. A production line of aesthetically pleasing dishes passed under my covetous gaze on their way to my guests. I wondered whether they could appreciate such culinary allure. I wanted them to pass a test or fill in an application form to prove it - before they ate!
Just as well that I heard the appropriate plaudits. Not quite the involuntary moaning and loud 'yums' that I'm prone to on occasion but clearly approval was unanimous and that was enough for me.
And now I must give credit to the creator of the feast.
To my thorough and loyal house-helper,
Cam on chi Huong (Thank you, Huong)
Comments