Basically all I did during the holidays was to stay at home,I did not go overseas nor did I go out often. But I did tried something interesting and meaningful, at least it seems like it is to me—cooking.
Well,I could not totally understand those people in movies and books whom can turn kitchens into a war place and make chopping vegetables like World War Two broke out. I had always thought that cooking is never difficult—as long as you followed the right steps—but after giving myself some tries,I guess I might be partially wrong.
I think I was right about the part that it's not that difficult...but I guess it wasn't as easy as I had thought either. I realized that cooking is not just about holding a recipe,turning on the fire,following the steps then—KA-BOOM!—a delicious and mouth-watering dish is right in front of you.
It's not like a math question,you read the question,follow the formulas and solve out each step then you get the correct answer, you need to have certain skills,knowledge and experience to do this because you might never know for definite that the recipe is correct.Also,each step you do might not be exactly the same as how it turned out in the recipe and when this happens you have to use your knowledge skills and experience to handle the situation. The recipe? Good luck that you won't burn the kitchen together with it.
The first time I tried cooking wasn't really during the holidays,I couldn't remember when it was,maybe primary four or five,but I remembered that I was trying to fry an egg since tomato egg is one of my favorite dishes.The end-product was not bad according to my mother. To me, that moment when I saw the golden fried egg nicely placed in a porcelain plate,alright maybe the edges were kind of burnt, but it doesn't change the fact that I was overwhelmed by self-satisfaction and excitement. Successfully frying my own egg in the first place,was already a great achievement and I agree to my mothers opinion that however the food one cooked tasted like,the person would never feel that it is a bad dish,because the most meaningful part was the process and the effort behind it.
During the holidays,I tried cooking some simple dishes with my mother's guidance at my side,although mostly I was the one helping with the cleaning and cutting of vegetables,but the little practices I had with cooking added on to my experiences. I'm still not completely sure about when to add water,when to throw in the vegetables and meat, when to off the fire but I'm gradually getting the hold of it. Those practices made me realize that cooking is not equivalent to following a recipe because there are many other circumstances that requires you to react on your own. Although cooking might not be the most interesting or fun things I've ever done but it definitely was a meaningful experience, and indeed useful too.
There was once when my mother did not cook for my dad when he reached home after work and my dad was angry. Somehow, maybe out of rage, he told me to cook for him and I was really shocked. I was planning to throwing in some noodles and cross my fingers that the dish won't turn out like a disaster, but my dad ordered me to cook rice and warm some dishes for him. Well,of cause I couldn't tell him that I have not tried cooking without my mothers guidance at the side, I don't think he would accept this reason anyway, so I had to summon up almost all my courage and reluctantly follow Nike's motto—just do it.
One word to describe the warrior's behavior and the 'battlefield situation' is: flustered. I turned one of the leftover stew into a soup when I tried to warm it up and the rice turned out uncooked, I had to cook it again and as for the stew,all I could do was to pour away as much 'soup' as I could to make it look more like a stew...
My father likes that kind of glutinous porridge but I cooked a rather watery one,I tried to left out the water while filling his bowl. The vegetable was a little uncooked too and overall,it was rather horrible....The worst thing is that I wouldn't exactly describe my fathers mood as good or happy or normal,he was angry at the moment.
So,I had to leave the battlefield for His Highness's dining table (which seemed worse), I placed the dish in front of him and scurried away to do household chores,hoping that my faked diligence would help appease him and lighten my sentence. Scrubbing the sink really hard as I peaked at him eating, I was thanking the god when he did not bang the table or smash the plate. What really surprised me was that after he finished eating ,he actually went to see if there was anymore porridge and I was really dumbfounded because that wasn't any of the behaviors I expected.
The dinner past without any scolding or complaints, I went to the table and tasted a spoonful of the 'stew',the taste was... .....I almost thought that I threw in the whole bottle of salt when I cooked it. I picked a tiny weeny stem of the vegetables and I had to chew many times before I could swallow down because it was not totally cooked as I mentioned earlier.
When I realized how much more horrible this dinner might have tasted compared to what my mother usually cooks and that my father did not scold me or uttered a single word of complaint, when he would usually pick about how salty my mothers dish was,how the porridge was too watery etc.I was feeling lots of emotion that I couldn't explain and I was definitely touched.I had never imagined that those scenes in the dramas when the girl cooks some inedible and unidentified stuff, and another guy eats it all up without a second word would happen to me, although it wasn't so exaggerated in my case and that guy was my father, but this experience would definitely remind me if I ever doubt about his love and care for me.
These experiences made me realize how difficult it was for my mother to cook dishes according to everyone's appetite and that it is really not as easy to cook as I had thought earlier. I realized how ungrateful I was to complain or pick about the dishes my mother cooked ,I took granted of what she did for us daily and I should have learnt how uneasy it was to cook, not just for one week or one month, but cook for the family for years,maybe even half an eternity or so.
Also, I was not as close to my father and most of the times my feelings towards him was more to the scared side, but I guess maybe men are different from women in the way they express their care and concerns. I think its just that I have to try to observe and feel the love behind each intention and action he does
This was what I learnt and did during the holidays, though I did not go out to see the wide world but I saw more pictures to the little world of our family and home.
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