a man who cooks

Written by Cathoel Jorss, published 11 years ago

A man who loves to cook but cannot bake is so good for a girl’s convenience and ego. Years ago I lived with a guy who thought “hundreds of thousands” were called “thousands of millions” and that croissants were a cross bread. He wasn’t wrong but his dyslexia was a continuing delight and I always had pen and paper beside the phone. Once toward Christmas we had a craving for custard and he opened the pantry sadly to show me, “there isn’t any.” When I whipped up a slow custard on the stove top using an actual egg and pan of actual milk he was so wonderfully astonished. It made me feel I had alchemical superpowers: the power to make custard without custard powder. Non custard powder custard power. I rocked!

Tonight I showed another man how you can tell your egg whites are beaten. He was lying on the bed reading and his gasp when I held the bowl upside down over his head was so terribly gratifying. Next week: the creation of a delicious pudding using nothing more than a bowl of scrambled egg mix and loaf of stale dry bread.