the raw onion smell freaks me out nowadays. last weekend, I peeled a few sambar onions. the tips of my fingers still smell like them. the hands have been washed a minimum of fifty times in the meanwhile. so randomly, thinking about it today I remembered I forgot about this blog – or actually pushed it to the back of my head.
I was actually waiting to set up my kitchen and actually get to a bit of cooking before I wrote anything. the truth – the kitchen is still a random bunch of boxes with a shelf full of colourful ingredients, I just don’t go to see anymore. something is keeping me away. as clutter gathers, the body becomes an onion.
this onion can walk and just mooches off the next best thing. an already clean house at offer somewhere else. it can’t find a single layer to clean its own clutter. clutter-free is an etiquette. clean counters come with it.
simultaneously, my mom is training me to become a junior Mr. Monk at her house.
so clearing a part of my head, by kicking up this space and hoping it will guilt me in to making a meal or two.
to beat the heat, here’s a story a friend made for a college project.
Make sure there is enough for everyone, especially the greedy me. Otherwise I will just order or cook more than I can consume.
Don’t you dare clear the table and put away the food, while I am still around my plate (yes, even if it is empty).
Please try to stay away from topics like gastric trouble, bodily fluids and so on. My tolerance has not yet reached Zen level in this respect. I will squirm and get snappy. I once kicked a guy on his shin for saying the fish curry I was eating looked like menstruation blood to him. Away from my plate, I am okay with your associations, I actually enjoy them.
Don’t you dare make yucky noises at something someone else is eating. It is their food. I hope you understand such a simple concept.
If you’re inviting me over for a meal, make sure you have enough ever-silver bowls and plates. Plastic kills my appetite. And I like to keep my side dishes separate from the main dishes, unless and until they are meant to be put together or the feast and its availabilities demand it.
Don’t force anyone to eat. Don’t starve yourself for them. If they enjoy watching you wallop a meal, do it in style.
Don’t go on pointing out mistakes to the cook. Though it is customary in some cultures to enjoy a feast by saying something good and bad about the food to ward away omens, try to put your superstitions aside and make the chef feel good by wiping your plate or leaf clean. After all, they fed you.
Try not to blow cigarette smoke right on to my face when I am eating, unless we are on the beach or in a tea shop. It confuses my sense of taste.
I am sure that I have more pet peeves, but these are the ones that immediately came to mind. Do you have any? Are yours personal or culturally rooted?