Family recipes... puff!

Women are very secretive, mainly about our period, our virginity and most important of all: family recipes.

At first, I started noticing that my cooking skills were going down the drain, but this only happened when I was trying some of my friends’ recipes.

If I was following up the steps from an online website or my mother-in-law’s recipes, I was sure to get the final result as similar as possible to the end product.

This started bugging me, because I attended dinners to some of my friend’s houses and the food was amazing (especially desserts), but when I tried the ‘so called’ family recipe in my kitchen, I was never able to replicate the dish as I had tested it during our get together.

Dripping Flans, weird looking corn puddings, dull dishes and a non-stop chain of failures.

And then, I finally got it! 

I was being completely cheated of the ‘secret ingredient’ of every recipe I was given. All the events were an ‘almost got it’ type of situation, but I never was able to ‘get it’ correctly.

So dear old friends: I’m onto you.

We talk about the weirdest things and share our most deep secrets when we’re together, but a simple family recipe can throw all that down the drain, all for the sake of continue being the one and only person on our circle that can cook that perfect dish without the overshadow of some of us stealing your thunder.

Well, two can play that game.
I’ll be sure to start switching ingredients on my recipes, or removing some key component so all you’ll get will be tasteless, shapeless, inedible dishes.
And when you come back to me and ask me: What happened? Why I didn’t do it as you?

I’ll tell you the true: because I wanted to be the only one to get it right.
Family recipe… puff.
I’m only giving ‘changed’ family recipe from now on.

The need to cast out ‘a’ kilo

Women are always worried about weight and that extra amount of skin (fat) that falls over the sides of your jeans; however, it amazes me how less concerned are women who are ACTUALLY overweight, in comparison with those who aren’t but can find an ounce of fat in the slimmest body.
So I’m talking to a friend the other day, and we’re describing the painful experience of having to eat outside after the hundredth time during the week…
I’m not joking!
After you’ve received every family member you could possibly hold as a guest in your house in a crazy short amount of time, eating in restaurants (doesn’t matter how good the restaurant is) it’s an excruciating experience to endure.
We were teasing about that when she said, matter-of-factly:
- … because I need to banish a (one and only) kilo that’s been bothering me non-stop because it doesn’t go away! I mean, I love my wine so I can’t give up that glass with every meal, do you think if I cut the flour, would “it” cry uncle?
And all the while that she’s talking I’m thinking “what is her problem?... is she drunk while we’re talking and I’m not realizing?... mmmhhhh… maybe she needs to lay down the wine after all”.
Because, you see, she’s what I like to call a ‘feather weight’ person.
Her height holds 54 kilos perfectly fine… and I don’t know why is she soooo worry about 1(one) kilo when I need to figure out how the hell am I going to get rid of half my body mass?... and I’m not fretting that much… should I?
I mean, I’m plump where women are supposed to be plump… I miss when we were babies and everybody loved our body fat (babies of the world: enjoy society’s acceptance of your body fat while it lasts).
There you have it; women are psychos when they’re obsessing about their chubbiness (or lack of. for that matter).
My friend was still fretting in my ear about the “kilo” that was stalking her… I love her to death—it’s just as well we didn’t hook up to meet that day... What with the bitching about being stuck with 2 pounds of fat she didn’t ask for and didn’t want, and the way she manages (quite unconsciously, I’m sure) to make everything about her . . . nope, nope, nope. If she was with me now, I probably would have jammed a needle full of morphine into my heart before the end of the day.
I’m chubby but happy… deal with it!
PS: R.B., don’t kill me now!