flawed work of art.
Friday, March 28, 2008 @ 9:04 am
it had to happen.
after a month or so of good edible home-cooked meals, it was bound to happen.
I finally cooked something bad. what! why are you looking at me like that?! I can cook okay! in fact, I cooked delicious meals the past weeks.
mee goreng, black pepper steaks, lemon and herb chicken, sweet and sour pork, bako's hidden egg recipe and the creme de la creme out of this cook's kitchen - fried vermicelli.
can you wipe that smirk of your face?! I'm being serious here! my bihun is awesome kay! beat all those ones I've eaten at potlucks and christmas parties!
after today's linner (like brunch, only this one is between lunch and dinner), I've hung up my jamie oliver apron (borrowed from the ever faithful fan, my sister) and sought comfort in ready-to-eat meals, which in my world equates to chocolates (thank you mama king for the lindt easter chocs!) and sesame street strawberry yoghurt. honestly, kids' yoghurt tastes tonnes better than adult ones. that's sooo age-ist!
right right, so what DID I cook that deterred my 'yan can cook' spirit?
chicken breast with orange sauce. I saw the recipe in the donna hay cookbook my sister loaned me and although it was meant for duck, I thought hey, chicken might work right, right? wrong! it was so disastrous, I couldn't eat it, I really couldn't! *gags*
poor bako put on a brave front and licked the plate clean, while I eyed the lindt chocolates in the corner. hello mister, you don't have to say it tastes good when it tastes putrid lah. sob sob.
a few lessons I've learnt through this culinary experience:
- do NOT substitute a different meat with another
- don't be a smartarse and season meat with other stuff besides those listed in recipe (yeah, the nando's-loving mr. bako decided to season our chicken with peri-peri. omg!)
- fresh fruit don't make good mains. I dunno why I never learn my lessons. a few weeks ago, I ordered a risotto with poached pear at a restaurant on lygon street, which got me a 'senorina, you don't like the risotto?' from the elderly waiter who went, 'it's a pear' when I asked earlier if the risotto was gonna be sweet.

p.s: i'm thinking of a cinquain for one of my poetry assignments. that's a good start. at least I'm not fretting about haiku anymore.
puzzled about poetry? me too.

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