I keep on talking to myself as I cook each day. I recall the entire day, the sadness or laughter shared. Some I draft into memories and a few I burn away as I saute the veggies. Cooking gets mechanical at times and my mind is engaged in different tangents.
Each time I plate my meal, I remember how different it is when I serve for you too.
For those are the times when we are together, sharing the same space.
Plates never had been two, just one with a happy amount for our feast.
Though the food is never well cooked when I am with you. Most of the time I burn the garlic in the pan and fool you for a smoky flavor.
Busy in conversations the veggies get diced irregular and ugly. Even the salt is less or more but never perfect.
While today as I plate for only myself, the conversations with you get replaced with mind-riddling the routine. Now there are neatly chopped veggies and finely tossed garlic. There is precision in spices and in plating too. But it does have only a little taste!
And I recall the irregularly perfect pasta cooked with you. Those cooking imperfections had their delightful taste.
You are always a better Cook than me.
And I am always a Happy Eater when with you!
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