The Curse of the Cooking Fairy

I seldom receive gifts and when I do, my heart does a hippity hop. Wrapped gifts transform me into a thrilled little child, excited to discover what’s inside. Last night, the Captain’s friend visited our home and gave me a gift. I wanted to unwrap it there and then but a bigger problem loomed before me.

What do I serve our guest? I finally have my first official house guest and he, of all people, happens to have a professional cousin-chef whom he eats with often. All my boiling and frying skills fled away to inferiority land.

The Captain pleaded I cook something. I wanted to. My brain wanted to. But I stood in our kitchen frozen, my cooking hands unwilling to move. In a split second I wanted to undo things. I wanted to go back and not be a wife. In that moment I realized if the world judges a wife according to her ability to cook, I was willing to resign. I know, I know. I’m a girl. I’m a wife. I should know how to cook. I am learning, believe me. For the past weeks I had fed my husband with food mixed and stirred over our mini electric burner (hint that this newly wed does not have a cooking stove yet).

I am a fast learner, especially if my heart is into it. I learned how to drive in a flash. One afternoon, my uncle Bart placed me behind the wheel of his jeepney and 3-4 hours later I was driving it home on public highway. I learned how to bike, skate and roller blade in less than an hour. I learned football in a month. I learned Photoshop and inDesign in a day. I learned Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper in a minute. I learn that fast.

I have been taught that if you do something, anything, do it with joy in your heart.  I play happy music in the kitchen. I sing, I dance while chopping. I put all my heart in my corn oil, onions, garlic, salt and pepper and I wait. But the joy doesn’t come. I find more fun and love in scrubbing toilet bowls than making a meal. Seriously.

People who love to create dishes amaze me. I taste and smell the aroma of their passion. If there was a curse on cooking, maybe at my birth the evil fairy dumped all the curse dust on me.

A day ago, I stayed up all night meticulously ironing my husband’s work clothes. In the morning he asked me why I had to work hard on that when it was cheaper and more convenient to just bring the shirts to the laundry shop for ironing. I wanted to tell him ironing was a wifely duty I can do and I’m good at. My strange happiness in sewing buttons and armpit holes and my brilliance in ironing compensates my failure as a cook. I find joy in flattening wrinkled shirts.

I ended up serving our house guest french fries. The Captain, frustrated that I had a cooking-stroke that night, called Pizza Hut to save us. I am just thankful his friend is a kind and understanding gentleman.

This is his gift to me, an unfair exchange for my oily french fries.

I see cooking as a necessity but more as an art of creation. It is a wonderful gift like singing and dancing. It is a gift wrapped and given to blessed people.

It is a gift I did not receive.


16 thoughts on “The Curse of the Cooking Fairy

  1. I so agree! It’s really a gift which I didn’t receive as well. Naka-relate ako nang bonggang bongga! 🙂 No worries girl, you have numerous talents and gifts naman kaya carry lang. 🙂


  2. Hahahahaa! bigay mo yang paris hilton sakin and i teach you cook…kahit basic lang. hahahaha! sabi nga ni papa (mo) sa atin diba, we should learn how to cook! hehehehe….


  3. You’re gonna have to learn how to cope with cheat meals! Too bad my
    Paris Hilton!!! Simple cookbook nalang sana (Cooking on a mini electric burner–may ganon?) hehe.
    There must be something out there for you…


    1. I do cook cheat meals! I followed what you gave me last time. Check our fridge, it’s all full of ready to cook (fastfood-like) meals. And I try to invent meals din. But I want to have that heart, yung masaya about what she does. E hindi e, minsan natutulog pa ako habang nagstistir. Hahaha. Ang boring boring magluto!


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