a dash of dream, a pinch of patience

I love cooking.
Or I will love to learn this art. That's better.

To be honest, I'm actually in love with the smell of different spices and ingredients when they got mixed together. I adore the aroma of fresh meat (Ugh, for some), sliced veggies (Blech, for my veggie-hating cousins) and of course, sauteed garlic and onion. And lastly, I enjoy putting the cooked food on some dainty china ware and place them on the dining table with that look of approval from the guests.
Wow. That's an art. An obra maestra.

I wish I'm a great cook. I really long to be one.

You see, I came from a family of great cooks.
According to my clan history, my great, great, great grandfather was a chief baker and so was his wife. My grandpa, a certified Kapampangan, can make the perfect Hamonado and the town's most delectable leche flan in a flash. My grandma and her mother are both great chefs during their adulthood. My Mom cooks sumptuous Japanese dishes (my favorite) like she's been doing it since birth. While Tita Beth, my youngest aunt can actually do all sorts of dishes. From Chinese to Indian, from Kare-kare (another favorite) to Cordon bleus.

But it seemed that my roots forgot to pass the "legendary skill" on me.
Hey, don't look at me in that way. I know naman how to cook kahit papaano.
Just you know, the basic frying and baking.
Besides that, I'm history.
I didn't even know how to cook sinigang. Tsk,tsk,tsk. What a pity.

And so, I made a promise to myself.

Every weekend when I'm in Baliuag, I'll cook.
I'll practice the art little by little.
I know I wouldn't learn how to cook like a pro overnight so gradually, I'll do it.

And that sinigang, I swear, it'll be next week's assignment.