"Kiss the Cook"

One of my frequent daydreams involve me wearing a chef's hat and a graphically designed apron with "Kiss the Cook" printed on it. The setting has to be in a professional-looking kitchen.

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Cooking has been one of my better talents. The way I look at it, it's no different from my chemistry lab experiments and biology projects, two things which I enjoyed doing when I was a student. I grew up to be my mom's kitchen assistant -- first as a dishwasher, then as a vegetable slicer, and then I cut my finger at the age of 10. That halted my relationship with all the other kitchen knives (so I still don't know how to fillet a fish or debone a chicken) but my mom offered me to do the actual cooking. We reversed roles eventually --- she'd do all the food preparations while I do the frying or stewing. My first own cooked meal is sinigang, and I've been very fond of that dish ever since.

Over the years, I've gained the skills to cook other more complex dishes, such as Chinese food, paella, mechado, menudo, tinola, kare-kare, paksiw and all sorts of pasta. My siblings are my guinea pigs, and none of them has complained of my cooking. Oftentimes, I'd cooked for around 12 people (there's 10 of us in the family) in one go but all of it gets simot. None of them really says "it's a great meal" or any other verbal compliment on my culinary skills, but seeing them wolfing it down and going back for seconds is enough of a compliment for me.

I don't keep a recipe book. I'd refer to memories of how my mom does it. It's amazing how memories of cooking is not bound by numbers and instructions. Memories of cooking involve recalling the smells, sights and sounds of the dish being prepared. And in doing so, I learned how to cook by feel.

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Recently, somebody asked me if I'm up to a culinary challenge. She asked me if I can try out cooking something that she's been craving for years but couldn't find a decent restaurant or cook to prepare it for her. I said I can try, and she got the recipe from her overseas friend.

The dish is PEROGIES. It's basically potatoes, milk, flour, onions and cheese. A bit tideous to prepare. Since she only gave me the recipe, I had no idea how it's suppose to look like nor how it's suppose to taste like.

I didn't follow the recipe to the letter. On certain steps I'd judge that I need to tweak the boiling time a bit, or add less salt, or put more cheese, or dump the milk in two batches. I was doing it by feel. I even added tomato pesto and bacon bits on some of it.

As the dish was slowly conceived, I'd smile occasionally because I think I'm getting it right. It smells right, looks right and finally tastes right. For me. What i still don't know if that's what she expects. I'm unsure if the way I conceived it is the way she expects it to be.

Either way, when we do meet to hand her the dish (I've frozen it, and it's easy to cook at a later stage), at least one of us will be in for a surprise.

Relationships, for me, are just like that -- cooking something for someone for the first time. It's done by feel, with no idea of what the other expects, and hoping that what you prepared will get either an approval or a second chance.

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There I go again, daydreaming of me being in a graphic designed apron with a chef's hat. Kiss the Cook. =)