TOO MANY COOKS SPOIL THE BROTH

 

At no time did I comprehend this old saying could be so exceptionally appropriate for all of us? For a very long time, Queen Mother ruled the roost from the dining table. She would sit there and indiscriminately pursue her instructions, the amount of water I added, the flavor of the ingredients, the position of the pan over the flame, and so on. I barely got a break till I decided to end all this and shifted her throne to the side where she could not see what I was doing.

 

With a badly bruised ego and the hurt of being deposed, she continued to grumble and fumble and stepped down reluctantly.

 Working from home introduced a new cook in our dwelling, my son. All this while he stayed in another city, and we continued to praise his newly found culinary skills through WhatsApp.

 

 This WhatsApp is not a 3D app that shows us the food beautifully presented, while the rest of the kitchen does not matter. I was scandalized when ‘besan ka chila’ was being prepared. My hovering never ceased, watching the burning oil in the heated skillet. My son realized that it is hard to work here, as you are relentless. In my sane moments, I assured him I realized my mistake; next time, when you enter the kitchen, it will all be yours.

 

Today, on the menu was ‘chana dal’. Needless to say. It was perfectly prepared, sans Mom and Grandma’s instructions. I cleared the kitchen and utensils, cooked the chapatis, enjoyed my meal, and sang a paean of praise all day.