March 26th 2019
Today I made the noodles too spicy. When I can be bothered to cook, I do really enjoy it, but it’s always been a failing of my culinary skills that I never taste the food while I’m cooking it. And nor do I measure out exact amounts of the herbs and spices that I’m adding to the food. I like to take a ‘fuck it and see’ approach to my seasoning.
So with the noodles I made my parents and I for dinner, I kind of played it fast and loose with the amount of sriracha and chilli flakes I added to the dish. A couple squirts. A few shakes. And then I know you’re supposed to taste it, but for some reason I never do.
Maybe I just like the element of surprise. It’s a gamble to see how the dish turns out when it’s plated up and on the table. I know that sounds like a recipe for disaster – pun intended – but honestly, how badly can you fuck it up if you’re at least a somewhat competent cook?
Well, my Mum started choking and crying after a few mouthfuls of tonight’s noodles. She couldn’t handle the spice. I think I probably knew that it was likely to be too spicy for her, but I honestly didn’t think it was going to be that bad. And it wasn’t, for me or Dad. Mum’s just a bit… weak when it comes to spice.
At one point she said she was going to have to start chugging a pint of milk just to cool her mouth down. Oops. Maybe I should start taste-testing my cooking after all.
Until tomorrow, but where’s the fun in that?
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