Food is one thing that is very essential to human life. It is the one thing that if it’s ignored can cause a lot wahala to your body, and can also cause damage when overeaten.
Let me tell you a short story.
When I was much younger, as far as I can remember, I wasn’t the foodie type of child. I was that kind of child that loved to nibble on sweets and snacks and wasn’t up for too much-cooked food. But somewhere along my growing up years, I discovered I loved to eat, and this came as a result of teaching myself to cook, learning a few cooking tips from my restauranteur aunt and my super mom. It was quite an experiential journey.
Throughout my university days, I only became addicted to cooking in my 200 Level, and I enjoyed every bit of it, especially when some of my neighbors in Fejiro Lodge (where I lived in school) requested to keep tasting my sumptuous cooking. It was like a set of winning jackpot numbers for me. I was always “scentifying” my neighborhood (according to my mum).
Back in 2002 or so, I was living with some of my aunts, and we had the whole family house to ourselves. One of them started a restaurant business, and it gave me reasons to always be around her. She had two girls then who shared in the duties, but I decided to join the train, even though I wasn’t paid in cash, I was sort of paid with an assured daily three square meals. Lol.
One day, she had to travel to the village, and one of her girls had quit, and it was just I and I the other girl left. I wasn’t supposed to do anything the next day after she had traveled, but I took up the challenge; went to the market to meet her meat customer, then bought other ingredients that were needed for the day’s business. I started out not really believing I could cook the same way my aunt cooked or let alone convince her customers of the food taste. I went ahead and gave it a try; steamed and cooked everything that needs to be done.
By the next morning (5:00am) I was up to check on the overnight cooked white beans with firewood, which had already turned brown, then prepared the stew, boiled the rice, fried the plantains, fried the fish, boiled the eggs, cooked the spaghetti, etc. Before I knew what was happening, customers had started coming with their bowls, one after another, by then the other girl helped with arranging and setting up the tables and chairs. Some customers were curious. They noticed my aunt’s absence. They asked, and I told them she traveled. They were amazed, but then again complimented my cooking.
Did I cook exactly like my aunt? I sure didn’t, but I applied her cooking techniques. Since then, I haven’t gone back, but then, I kind of hid my cooking skills, until…
I gave this short story for a reason. There are many people who’d read this and say “I want a woman that can cook, blah blah blah…” and they go ahead to focus their attention on just the cooked food and not the person. Cooking is good, but when you make it a point of duty to punish someone because you can’t eat a day old soup, then I believe you are being inconsiderate. Although most ladies don’t mind or enjoy that, I believe there has to be some form of balance. For example, once my pot of soup is four or five days old (in the deep freezer o), I become really tired.
I love to cook, but I can’t bear to cook fresh soup every day. That is very exhausting.