It was Mexican food night at our humble abode yesterday.
The original plan was to go out to our usual haunt and take full advantage of their bottomless margaritas, but while Maika and I were lazy-Saturday-afternoon-lounging, we realised we needed to do some sort of physical activity that demanded more than lifting a glass off a table and back. We also wanted to watch Mexican movies, but decided that watching Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal make out didn't do anything for us. Hence, cooking.
Now, I'm not much of a cook - something those well-acquainted with me can fully attest to. Fortunately, Maika is much more enthusiastic about the whole culinary deal, which basically led to our spending four and a half hours making burritos, nachos, margaritas and black russians, because we always need more than one kind of alcoholic drink around. We even made the tortilla chips by hand. I swear, if I made them every weekend, I'd have squeeze-worthy biceps.
The thing with cooking meals that need assembly is that in the process of waiting and doing everything one at a time, you tend to pick up little bits and pieces here and there, the excuse being taste samples. So by the time the burritos were ready, we were on our way to being full, but had to give the finished food (and our hard work) the respect it was due.
And in between heating refried beans and rolling out dough, it hit me that I am now really and truly okay. Thank goodness for fun roommates who know you and for seemingly mundane activities that prove to be healthy for growth, for experience, for the stomach and yes, for moving on.
As it is though, our refrigerator is now piled with takeout containers of ingredients, and we'll be packing the stuff for lunch at work for the next few days. I'm going to dig up my copy of "Like Water for Chocolate," just in keeping with the theme.
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The original plan was to go out to our usual haunt and take full advantage of their bottomless margaritas, but while Maika and I were lazy-Saturday-afternoon-lounging, we realised we needed to do some sort of physical activity that demanded more than lifting a glass off a table and back. We also wanted to watch Mexican movies, but decided that watching Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal make out didn't do anything for us. Hence, cooking.
Now, I'm not much of a cook - something those well-acquainted with me can fully attest to. Fortunately, Maika is much more enthusiastic about the whole culinary deal, which basically led to our spending four and a half hours making burritos, nachos, margaritas and black russians, because we always need more than one kind of alcoholic drink around. We even made the tortilla chips by hand. I swear, if I made them every weekend, I'd have squeeze-worthy biceps.
The thing with cooking meals that need assembly is that in the process of waiting and doing everything one at a time, you tend to pick up little bits and pieces here and there, the excuse being taste samples. So by the time the burritos were ready, we were on our way to being full, but had to give the finished food (and our hard work) the respect it was due.
And in between heating refried beans and rolling out dough, it hit me that I am now really and truly okay. Thank goodness for fun roommates who know you and for seemingly mundane activities that prove to be healthy for growth, for experience, for the stomach and yes, for moving on.
As it is though, our refrigerator is now piled with takeout containers of ingredients, and we'll be packing the stuff for lunch at work for the next few days. I'm going to dig up my copy of "Like Water for Chocolate," just in keeping with the theme.
