I hadn’t written a story to go with the fideos because really there wasn’t one at the time. I am now halfway across the world and it has been a long time between posts. Missing home has me thinking about that afternoon, making fideos with my mama. As I remember how she showed me how to combine flour and eggs on the kithcen bench instead of a bowl, the memories of many cooking trials mesh together and I can’t tell which is which.
The time when I became frustrated when my dough didn’t form properly and came out flaky, the time I filled my tallarines a little too much and they ruptured their little bellies, how every woman in my family has a pasta linda but we still need a male relative to help us set it up. A running montage of “kitchen incidents”, fits of giggles and many many occasions of experimentation.
Sometimes these experiments were a success, usually our guests didn’t realise we had switched ingredients half way through. On the odd occasion we made an improvement (hurrah). This is not to say my mama is not a good cook. All bias aside my mama is the best cook I know! She could go up against the best chefs that reject imperfect dishes. I never remember throwing anything away. It could always be saved!
Flan can always be made into mayonesa :p
Some of my best kept secrets are of “kitchen incidents” and the majority involve my mother. Of course I will never tell specifics! Our family knows most of them anyway because we can never contain our laughter or keep our conspiracy quiet.
So I am going to go ahead and blame her now for my love of science and all things experimental. For the curiosity that drives me to tweak, and switch and try, because how wrong could it possibly go?
Love you ma,