Chicken soup for a hard day's night

I had gone up to warm my lunch at the office micro a couple of days back.

I (involuntarily!) eavesdropped on the conversation of a couple of girls who were heating their food. One was telling the other how she found cooking to be a stress buster. She went on to say that she would forget whatever happened at work as she began to cook.

Actually that used to be true for me too. I cooked fairly regularly for the past seven years. And yes, I did enjoy putting a good meal together. There was a sense of accomplishment. Planning out the dish and putting it together did help me forget the moments that made up a dull day.

Then I handed over the kitchen to our maid, Banu. My role now is limited to teaching her how to cook.

But eavesdropping on this pop psychology did give me an idea. I was in need of some serious anger managment that day.

A friend of ours from K's office had cooked some amazing pork spare ribs. He had sent a special stash for me. The honey spares were out of the world. They backed his claim that he often goes to restaurants and feels that he could make better stuff at home. I have rarely had such good spare ribs before.

That's when the idea of cooking my way out of working class alienation struck me. I picked up some vegetables and noodles from the market after my walks, used the couple of eggs and sauce sachets at home and made an egg hakka noodle.

Results:
  • An egg hakka befitting the glorious spares
  • Our new kitchen was inaugurated
  • What me worry?
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