I Will Make an Awful Housewife (Kwentong Adobo, atbp)

"Have you had your dinner already?" Mama asked.

"Yes," Red replied.

"Was it delicious?"

"Yes! Where did you buy it?"

That would have been an insult. It certainly is my son's indirect way of saying that I cannot make something appetizing. I couldn't blame him though. For ten years he tolerated my awful concoctions. But! Being introduced to bad food early on is one of the reasons why he is not a picky eater, or so I would like to believe. Motherhood did not really put my mediocre cooking skills into practice. Give my son some green, leafy salad with bagoong (kangkong, squash leaves, or kamote, topped with tomato and onions) and he will eat it right away. So why bother with a complicated recipe?

Red enjoying his snack (kangkong and tomatoes in bagoong).
Anyway, if he thought his home-cooked dinner was bought at some fancy restaurant, I would take that as a compliment because it only means one thing: I am getting better. However, I still don't see myself fit for the kitchen.

You see, while my mom has taught me basic cookery at a young age, I wasn't interested to any of it at all. More so with any kitchen chore assigned to me. Once I am tasked with something, I get it done only when absolutely necessary. And by that I mean, when my mom would start the incessant retelling of the hardships she went through, including the pain in delivering me, while having a firm grip of a slipper, a belt, or whatever object she can pick up in her right hand, ready to strike if I get more reluctant about it. I did my chores grudgingly. I still do (even without mom's orders).
Every. Single. Time.
I could easily be labeled as lazy. But no, I am not lazy all the time. I am only lazy at the things I don’t particularly like. Washing the dishes, for example. I let them pile up in the sink and pray that they magically get cleaned up on their own. It would take an average of 30 minutes to a day before I give in and do the dishes. And honestly, I'd take any 12-hour web development job over washing the dishes.

I say the same when it comes to cooking. Getting married, however, changed the game a bit. Yes, I was able to feed Red with healthy options despite having zero cooking skills. The case with Jan, the husband, is somewhat different. He would not admit this, but he is a slightly picky eater.
Exactly! Haha
Now, every night becomes a challenge for me. What am I supposed to make for dinner? Beats me. Yes, it is safe to say that I am no longer a total noob in cooking. Aside from the usual frying and boiling, I can do adobong baboy/manok, adobong sitaw, ginisang togue, sinigang, pork bistek, menudo, chicken afritada, chicken curry, escabeche, lechon paksiw, and kinilaw. The outcome? Unexceptional and thankfully nowhere near inedible. Jan actually says it is good (he is either saying the truth or he just doesn't want to live dangerously).
Wow! I can fill this post with memes.
But with what's readily available in the fridge and the limited spare time I have (I get off from work at around 5-6pm, giving me just an hour to prepare and cook a right-on-time-7pmish dinner), the easiest I can make is adobo or sinigang (thank heavens for sinigang mixes) or anything fried. This has been going on for weeks. I wish I had the creativity to put a simple adobo a notch up, but I don't. Not that I am trying to impress the husband with an exceptional meal but the man has to eat good food occasionally. And I’m afraid that by the time I master adobo, he’s already fed up with it.
I guess, my adobo's going to taste better as the days go by.
This is why I salute this awesome breed of human (we call them housewives) who can do home-cooked delicious meals every night. How they do not run out of ideas and keep their sanity intact is beyond me. I could only wish I can be as creative and passionate as them.

But we all know a scrumptious and nutritious dinner served daily is at worst impossible and at best exhausting for me. So the best I can do is save such exceptional dishes for special occasions such as birthdays, anniversaries, or apologies for shopping things I don't need using the husband's card.
So what's for dinner? Adobo it is.

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