Now the thermostat on the Cynic Cook-o-meter has only two settings – viz. Explosive (the cook) or Explosive (when the cook is the experimentative mode, and thus, there is high probability of the blender and the vegetables and the environment blowing up). Friday happened to be the former so a new a new dish was destined to be born.
So anyways, cooking happened – I have named it Braised Pepper Chicken* . Miraculously turned out quite interesting and I called up hero to apprise him of the fact. I have standing instructions to tell him important details like this – that ways, he can spend the entire day in pleasurable anticipation.
Hero came back from work, and the first thing he did was demand a sneak preview of the meal.
A little later, and I was sitting on the couch contemplating the meaning of life, when he came and sat next to me. He hmmed and hawed a bit, in preparation to telling me something important. After a while, he turned to be with an absolutely mush-oozing out, Bryonically romantic expression on his face and looked at me soulfully and whispered those magical words...
“I have been waiting all my life....”
I waited expectantly, thinking the way to a man’s heart IS through his stomach after all.
“....for this braised pepper chicken”
I did say, I was not even in the running against chicken didn’t I?
P.S.*I have just learnt the meaning of braised and I want to use it. Ha!
P.P.S. That sounds like a good title for a ballad no?
I have been waiting all my life for a braised pepper chickin',
So brown and crispy, it’s just finger lickin’.
The thought of it, makes my heart keep tickin’
My finger licking, heart tickin’, braised pepper chickin
I SHOULD write lyrics! Maybe I shall compose this, after I am through with Mary had a little lamb...
P.P.P.S Edited to convert chicken to chickin' at the proposal of young million-different-people