I’ve had a long day. Meeting after meeting and call after call kept me on my feet. When I got home, Titch greeted me as usual. I carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and started preparing for the task ahead.
After a few minutes, I was in tears. I never was good at chopping onions. When I was 14 years old, I worked in a deli and one of the most feared and memorable tasks was to chop a 15lb bag of onions. My hands smelled of onions for a week. That put me off them for about 10 years, but I love the smell of fried onions now…
Next came the minced beef, followed by a full jar of chilies, a jar of ground red chili powder and 8 tins of kidney beans. As I stirred the huge pot of chili, Titch wrapped herself around my ankles.
As I write this, the pot is simmering on the hob.
One of the things I love most in this world is feeding people. A friend from work made a request for chili, so I’m making a batch. I find cooking therapeutic, though more often than not, once I’ve finished preparing a meal, I’m not hungry myself.
For some people, cooking is a chore, for me, it’s a way to unwind, be creative and stock the fridge for the week.
Personally, I’m a fan of anything that has a better than average chance of burning a hole in my stomach, the spicier, the better. Thai, Mexican, Indian, those are my favourites.
So, what’s your favourite?
Writing Prompt: Some Like it Hot