Strawberry and spinach salad
I have watched scrambled eggs being cooked, then stared in horror, as much care was taken over cooking them a little more, and a little more, until I found myself served rubber on toast for breakfast. I couldn’t say anything; when you are staying with somebody it is rarely appropriate to point out that their cooking is atrocious, so I sat and hoped that maybe next time it would be better. It wasn’t, of course; odd combinations can work, but a ‘salad’ that consists of canned mandarins, pineapple, sour cream and marshmallows is not a salad, nor is it even dessert.
And this is why I call to everybody who may ever eat anything I cook to always express their honest opinion. When it comes to cooking we all have much to learn. Last time I was home, I was instructed on how to crush biscuits for a cheesecake base, make tadzhiki, crush garlic, even how to squeeze the water out of cucumber, I was forced to throw away half-made pastry dough. These are all things I know how to do, things I know how to do well, I would hasten to suggest, but as I cooked, my mother and my aunt clucked around me. Commenting, advising, interfering, in things I could have done just as well with out them. I’m obstinate in the kitchen, I like my way of doing things, and I don’t appreciate other people interfering. But for this I wish to thank them; because although its intensely aggravating for someone to to inform you of the ‘better’ way of doing something, I learned something that day.
This is a request, for everyone, to always comment on my cooking, to advise, to deride, to compliment, for any comment that could possibly provide a spark for introspection is one I want to hear.