Did two loads of laundry, chopped greens and ginger, and read a book while marinating chicken. Life marches on with comforting predictability, and I use the lull to work on my cooking. I can actually do more than fry now.
Last week, I made chopsuey and adobo. Today, I’m making Hainanese chicken. Definitely a huge improvement from the Chin of yore who fried Hungarian sausages without removing the wrapper.
I make quite a sight in the kitchen when I cook. I lug my laptop about, propping it close to the sink so I could go over the ingredients or instructions quickly and easily. Curiously, the more I cook, the more adventurous I get with spices and flavoring. I used to shy from garlic and onions; I use them almost all the time now. This morning, I sprinkled cinnamon on my coffee. I loathe coffee—I only drink it to stay awake. But cinnamon made a huge difference. My cup smelled and tasted better. Who would have thought I’d enjoy being a kitchen regular? Certainly not I.