My Home-cooked Dinner Buddies

Before I knew it, our dinners have sort of become a tradition. Except that they happen sporadically, with nothing to celebrate, really.

Even then we never run out of things to talk about.

Last night, we barbecued some pork, chicken liver and gizzard. (Yes, as in the chook’s digestive organ. And, yes, it’s good if you cook it right.) We also had mung bean soup, dried fish with tomatoes, and pumpkin fritters.

And by “we,” I mean Met-Met. Cooked, I mean. Because she’s amazing at it. Krisfaye and I usually just stand around and watch her. Or do whatever it is she asks us to do.

One time she asked us to cook rice. Easy enough. Needless to say, we only had one job and yet we still managed to burn it! So now we have been demoted to chopping vegetables and what-not. Tasks that are ridiculously hard to screw up.

That’s all we do, really. Cook, eat, sit, and talk. Fatten ourselves up with food and a feminine bond that enriches the spirit.

One time, we had dinner at Krisfaye’s that started at 6pm, all the way until about three in the morning! I laughed, thinking how we were there for a full shift, plus an hour’s worth of overtime. Just talking about life and whatever.

I’m glad Raven’s the kind of kid you can just plop in a corner and she can just entertain herself by watching her shows or drawing. I check up on her every once in a while, though. I’m not that bad of a mum. But she’s in her element when she’s being creative. It’s one of her most favorite things to do.

Meanwhile, aside from sleeping, writing, and reading, eating is one of my most favorite things to do. But don’t let that fool you. I’m a social eater. I enjoy food best when I’m sharing it with other people.

On my own, I only eat because I have to. Which is why intermittent fasting happens naturally to me. I was already intermittently fasting before I even knew there was such a thing as Intermittent Fasting. I’m not big on breakfast. Never been. I only eat something in the morning if I have to go to work so as to avoid the humiliation of passing out from hypoglycemia.

My go-to breakfast? Tea and a pink lady apple.

So while other husbands whip up a couple of perfectly burnt toast and softly-cooked scrambled eggs beautifully presented on a tray with coffee on the side to be nice and romantic to their wives by serving them breakfast in bed, Jeff dangles an apple in front of me. My cup of tea steaming on the side table.

Told ya, I’m easy to please.

 

*Raven at 3 years old

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