Who the hell invented the idea of cooking?

Yes...why? I ask blatantly here....WHY?
Why couldn’t we just be pleased with eating raw fruits and vegetables yanked off the branches like by dear great grandfather Adam and granny Eve...?
They were content, weren’t they? (...ok at least till the weird apple arrived...)
They never cribbed that the potatoes are not fully boiled or the meat is not yet tender when the much fretted over meal is served to us on our platters...
After all, they didn’t have much brainwave of what should be grilled or steamed or double boiled or marinated....sautéed or frozen...
I can pronounce this with such surety, cause me the great- a distinguished female specimen and a kind of house manager to boot, has no clue to some of these terms in all their practicality...

So it surprises me to no end when I see other female samples who seem to be sharing the same physicality and assets as of my own, yet yards apart from me when it comes to their retorts and outlandish behaviour around food or even the mention of it...I could almost say those women are from Mars and I must be then from Venus...I also state publicly here that I have nothing against food...in fact I am guilty of over indulging on several...bloody more than just several occasions... skirmishing that endless battle with the bulge....but I don’t see the validity of putting myself through the process of standing over the burner, just to satiate this urge for food. I mean if we’d all just cook mouth watering dishes in our humble abodes, what would happen to those poor chefs who have put in years of diligence to acquire their posts and perfection?

Here, for example...
A dear friend of mine would pour that chicken schuezwan she just cooked and taking a ladle full close to her nostrils, she would savour its aroma with eyes closed and then with deep breaths, tilting her head slightly sideways, would seem rapt in just the god damn smell of it for a good bloody 2 minutes....for heaven’s sake! Had I seen this upshot in the actual ‘act’ in the cosy confines of her bedroom steaming with passion, I would still be a bit bewildered....but this swooning on the heated platform of her kitchen seems to make me dizzy like... where do I vomit....?

Then again in this list of irrational fools come many more of my dear friends, relatives and chance acquaintances...they would swear by their kitchen skills and drills and don’t care a damn if they weren’t recognized for anything else....
This particular breed took their feigning mothers too seriously when they told them that ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’...tch, tch...
Little did this momma know that this way is more exciting if you go a wee bit further down.... I mean how stimulating can the stomach get? -a round (ok even six packs...) but still a barrel like flap...ugh!

But many of my dear ladies spend many a sleepless nights in strategizing in their minds how to bring into play the left over bread crumbs tomorrow or what miracle to perform on that curd that turned sour.... and voila surprise, surprise! They do end up conjuring some magic alright the next day, as their hubbies and clans of little kids or the complacent mothers-in-law gloat with pride, after having a second overflowing refill of whatever was served to them.

No matter how much I try I just can’t ask get myself to ask the hostess after a sumptuous bite into the dish she transpired.... ‘Wow! How did you make this? You must share the secret!’ let’s just suffice to say that if I take a second helping and then mutter orgasm-ically.... ‘Mmmmm’...please take that as a compliment enough. I’d rather kiss those magical hands of yours than to put you through a narration of how you sweated over it in your kitchen. Also women please stop discussing recipes in social duos to make the layman less uncomfortable...if I have still not deterred you...I hope you do know that you smell like garlic after conniving that Chinese vegetable in garlic sauce ...

Hey by the way just to clear the air that does not mean I CAN’T cook...when I do adorn that chef’s hat, well I do carry out the role to almost perfection...minus the fuss...trouble is I hide that chef’s hat into caves unknown, so that I take ages to discover it again...though generously of course my social circle finds it back for me more often than I expect....

Aw...those magical hands and that frenzy for cooking...shouldn’t they have come inbuilt along with the female structure when it was so besotted to our spirits by the almighty....
Alright, we settled for a beautiful face, our ‘man’-handling skills or an intelligent mind instead... But then we didn’t really cross off upon the option box that asked if we would like culinary skills added to the list.
Food for thought you’d say....I would have enlightened you even more on this my friend...but sorry I think my Spanish crème n mushroom Peking soup has come to a boil and needs my immediate attention....!