My wife likes chicken. I too like chicken, but not of my wife's making. It is one of those things that I think should be classified under 'We agree to disagree'. But as it often happens my thinking does not mean the subject is closed. I agreed to disagree , but my wife has disagreed with my agreement.
Therefore, with a some trepidation and a lot of earnest prayers, I nodded vigorously and supportively when my wife announced she is going to make 'Sweet and Sour Chicken'. She was happy with my head bobbing. I too was happy with my head bobbing. The chicken did not show any emotion and laid inert.
Now you may think this is easy. Add some sweet, add some sour and add some chicken. This is where you would be wrong at least in our house.
Here, we first refer to the 'Recipe'. Luckily we have a recipe book with a lot of color pictures. This is a big help as it allows us to get our bearings right. With the book proudly propped up next to the fire, my wife just adds or subtracts ingredients till the final dish starts looking like the picture. Once she is satisfied, the book miraculously disappears. I suspect she hides it in case I need to verify that the dish I am eating is supposed to look this way.
I am jumping ahead. Anyway, after I look at the pictures and she reads the recipe, we take a break. Usually with tea and some snacks. Then she again refers to the recipe and decides we need to talk about it. We or rather she talks about the intricacies of the recipe while I keep nodding my head vigorously. It is easy now to shake my head. The previous bobbing has loosened up my neck muscles and with minimum effort I am able to replicate a pendulum. But I keep myself mentally alert as she has in the past tested my alertness by suddenly asking some questions (refer to the Great Mop fiasco of 2011, wherein I had continued to shake my head leading to a major Mop related disaster. Luckily that was a year before and things have settled down).
Luckily, what has transpired during the talking and which I gleaned from her morose expression is that we do not have all the ingredients. The easy going fellow that I am, I suggest we make Sambhar. This is a mistake. It is widely known (notwithstanding my temporary amnesia), that the right response in such situations is to suggest something closer to the original dish. For example, Tofu marinated in Onion stock and slightly sprinkled with lemon rind.
I avert the disaster by excusing myself and going to the bathroom. When I return the morose expression is still evident. I change my expression to suit the current mood in the house. After what seemed an appropriate time to grieve over the missing ingredients, I suggest tentatively that we make the dish with the ingredients that we have. My wife brightens at the suggestion and immediately starts giving me my orders. I have been surprisingly (to me) volunteered to do the cutting, cleaning and general upkeep of the kitchen. This I can do, in fact I pride myself on my chopping skills.
I chop away happily while my wife start arranging the tins and bottles required for propping up the book. This done, she resorts to basic mathematics of addition and subtraction till the dish starts looking approximately like the picture. I keep a watchful eye on the book. The phone rings, I get momentarily distracted and the book disappears.
Finally we eat the colorful and well plated "Sweet and Sour Chicken". My appreciation continues vigorously with the head bobbing.
I intend to shred the recipe book if and when I find it.