The wafting reek around one's ideas: A funny reminiscence
This morning on Skype, the family got to talking about food and the importance of sticking to recipes. My brother is a purist in this matter. My wife, Nikita, agrees with him. To a large extent, so do my parents and sister in law. If the a dish is called, say Pasta, it should not contain cauliflower. Pizza shouldn't be topped with cabbage. Specially so, after I praised cauliflower in pasta and cabbage topped pizza when we visited relatives on my side of the family. Nikita was also reacting to my revulsion of chopped carrots in her pasta. In the same vein, I react strongly to potatoes in okra. The list goes on. Some of it was in reaction to my use of French beans in my pasta. I have come to the conclusion that you can cook most things edible together, as long as you call it some other dish. The name of the dish determines expectations of flavour. Papa and I share a fundamental belief that if someone has put in the effort to cook for you, the cooking must be appreciated verbally a