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Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Discriminating Tastes: The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Stomach, But…

I am a man who has discriminating tastes. I don’t usually eat foods that are offered to me unless they are familiar to me. I am not an adventurous eater. I don’t care to eat what others are eating, even if it looks tasty. When I attend parties, I eat little – just enough to fill my tummy.

What my late mother always prepared for us, we never rejected it. We ate to our heart’s desire. In short, my mother was a good cook in her simple and humble way. Since I was the youngest of her six children, I always longed to go home early when I was away. I wanted to eat what she had prepared or cooked for the day. My mother was a vegan. Every week, she cooked us veggies with the best ingredients she had.

Though she wanted us to eat fresh leafy vegetables, my mother taught us not to stuff ourselves with food during the nighttime. It was not good for the tummy to eat at night, for we may suffer from indigestion. I didn’t know then if she was right, for I never disobeyed her. Today we eat veggies at any time of the day, even nighttime, and nothing happens to our tummies.

At any rate, we have to go to the restroom as soon as we get up the following morning. We are likely to move our bowels. Once we are through, we feel refreshed and nothing bothers our stomach. We know that veggies are regulating our normal bowel movement.

Role Switching


Now that my mother is gone, I have the best person to replace her in her daily kitchen chores. I am referring to my wife, Rebing (this is a fond name for Rebecca). You know when we were young friends, the first time I visited her at her house you couldn’t find anywhere. Not in the visitor receiving room, nor in the orchard. She was there in the kitchen, cooking her best recipes.

“She’s a good cook,” I presumed. No one would be doing any cooking in the kitchen if he or she doesn’t know about cooking. Since she was busy, I had to wait for her in their visiting room. I waited for two hours, but she still hadn’t come out of the kitchen to greet me. I obliged myself to go to the kitchen since her mother told me to go there.

She was surprised to find me standing at her back, observing her what she was doing. She took a scoop of one of her finished recipes and let me taste it. I did. “It’s delicious!” I told her and she rewarded me with a smile. I smiled back.

“Wouldn’t you join us in our lunch by and by?” she begged me. “Yes, of course, I will.” At lunchtime, I joined with them. I ate the three kinds of viands she had cooked. I had never tasted them before at any of the occasions or parties I had attended. This was very unusual for me!

I enjoyed Rebecca’s cooking very much. “It’s perfect!”

And she would be the perfect wife for me. I  have never regretted that I married her.

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n.b. - repost from my original article posted in the defunct Blogbourne site. Source: http://www.blogbourne.com/food-love-marriage/
published August 18, 2016

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