Sometime ago, my mum started experimenting with cooking. It is good, especially for a poor girl trying to scrimp and save her way for an impending graduation trip, as I no longer have to pay for takeaway dinners. For the first time, my mum had such a fervour for cooking that she has 3 different types of flour in the cupboard, a small kitchen weighing machine, and today she instructed me to buy a "potato smasher". This is the same woman who would cook the same old dishes in the past on a rotational basis and sprinkle her soup with salt and monosodium glutamate for flavour.
Before this explosion of passion for the wok, I gave my mother a cookbook which I bought in Church for $12. I had no use for it, and even though I had this nagging feeling that it wasn't going to be much use for my mum either, I still presented it to her. Boy oh boy, look at how things change. After enrolling herself in a Community Centre cooking class, my mum have started flipping the pages of the book, and even whipped out a vegetable dish that looks exactly like the picture in the book.
I'm glad.
I'm so glad for the book has brought my mum the joy of cooking. I'm also very glad that when I am tired and weary after a day of refereeing, my empty stomach have something delicious to look forward to. And most of all, I'm glad my mum has found the time to do things she never had the time to do when she had to work in the past.
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