I have never been a fan of cooking. As a child every dish I’ve ever tried to cook always ended up either raw or burnt. It’s not that I stopped trying, I was just protecting my fragile ego. My mom is a very good cook, it is hard for me to compete against her high standards.
On rare occasions, she would often call to say that she would be home late. Being the eldest child, it was my duty to provide a meal for my dad and siblings when my mom can’t. I tried, I swear I did, but to no avail. I hate hearing complaints about my food, especially if I shed blood, sweat and tears just to perfect it. My siblings used phrases like “not palatable”, “bland”…and at one point I even heard the word “yuck”. It was when I decided to give up cooking. From that point onwards, whenever I would be asked to cook adobo I would make up excuses or I would call a neighbor to cook it for me while I watch.
Several years later, I tried to cook adobo again while we were staying in China. Same story, my husband didn’t like it because it was too salty. But, this time there was a compliment…the potatoes were cooked just right. Yes, much as I’m ashamed to admit it, I reached the age of 31 without knowing how to cook a decent meal.
Due to my frustration, I googled every kind or adobo there is. I found this interesting Del Monte recipe that had pineapples in it. I decided to give it a try. While combining the ingredients, I found the marinade lacking. Being the expert cook that I am(joke), I decided to experiment. I didn’t care what it would taste like, I just wanted more sauce.
Dinner time came. I watched as my husband slowly chewed on his food (keeping my fingers crossed under the table). His first words were “Mmmmmmmmm!” and then he smiled. “Nice, mukhang sumasarap na mag-luto asawa ko ngayon ah. Good job!”..and I was all smiles. I was not expecting the complement, honestly.
Here's my masterpiece
Just when I was about to give up, a miracle happens…The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all.
A happy man makes a happy wife…