A friend has talked me into agreeing to be a victim tester of her book: The Complete Malaysian & Chinese Cookbook, which is to be published next year.
She thought I would be ideal as I rarely cook. Plus, I’m terrible at reading numbers. There are about 75 recipes and I have to do at least 40 of those recipes within six months.
What clinched the deal is her offer to pay for ingredients and my time. The freelancer in me just couldn’t resist. I’m not supposed to work from the end of March to this October, but I never had a project like this before. “Why not?” I thought while imagining myself in the kitchen, looking so cool. “It’d take only an hour or two hours each time,” I added to my thoughts.
But the reality is starting to hit. Hard enough to make me break out in a sweat right now.
Why did I agree? Why? Why?!
I mean I can’t even do anything outwith rock cakes, pancakes, stir fry dishes (which consists chucking everything but a kitchen sink into a pan and hope for the best), anything that can be cooked in a rice cooker, and some random family recipes that were ruthlessly drilled into me since I was knee-high. Such as kedgeree, roast dinner, chicken in the heather, basic chicken curry, and potato cakes. Will, our allegedly can-eat-anything man, wouldn’t touch any of them with a 10-feet barge pole, which should tell you something. Boiling eggs is the true definition of frustration. Almost always too hard, too oozy or undercooked with horrible-looking slimy bits. An egg timer is useful as a dead battery.
Crap. What have I just agreed to? *head desk*
I’ll ask if I’m allowed to take photos of my efforts for this blog. You’ll probably see nothing but blurred snapshots of burnt dishes, the smoke-filled kitchen or me in a corner rocking.
At least I have one solid month to prepare myself for the arrival of her batch of dreaded recipes. I can do it. Yup yup, I can.