The idea of cooking has always deluded my interest. People often ask me what I love doing more-- baking or cooking?--and I answer straightaway: baking. I can cook decent meals, I am finicky to the kind of meat/vegetable cut I need, but I show off my cooking prowess only to a few selected individuals, family included, because I'm armed with taste-facts that will make them tick; garlic-y? spicy? it could be a fairly predictable process for me. Like Bee, he loves Bolognese and I can cook him a nice dish of Bolognese, complete with liver (which, for me, IS the secret ingredient) and a splash of red wine vinegar. My friend L loves cream-based, so there you go, Alfredo pasta with bacon and lots of cheese.
Earlier this week, I have mentally decided to attend a cooking class, yielding to a sudden unexplainable urge to want to learn how to cook properly and maybe, even professionally. But, earth to me, I forgot to reserve a slot, I actually forgot all about it (?!*&). Anyhoo, I made a pasta dish (the all time favorite, easiest to prepare meal) and tried my prowess in what I now call Glazed Pork Stir Fry.
I must say this is a great home-cooked meal, my brother loved it and I did, too. Add the fact that I don't need to dirty up a lot of pots and pans and prepare a long mis en place, this goes up, up, up in my book.
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