Eating Out

Despite racking up a relatively impressive collection of glossy covered cookbooks (Nigella, Jamie, Delia etc.), I am a far far cry from the domestic goddess that A probably wishes he'd chosen to date instead.

The purchase of the said books began with good intentions, with visions of Jamie's Fantastic Roast Chicken or Nigella's Chocolate Pavlova, or you know, pasta bake. But with long work hours and lack of domestic help, after coming home from a hard day's work to a dark and empty house, the last thing I want to do is stand over a hot stove, waiting for my dinner to cook.

Thus, like most power couples too involved in their careers too cook (read: too lazy), A and I eat out. A lot. Probably a lot more than I'd like to admit.

The few times I run into members of my extended family, 3 questions are usually posed to me: 1) How are your parents/sister? b) How is work? and, iii) What do you usually eat at home? I find myself edging around the topic, emphasing my long work hours and hectic lifestyle, but trying to cook at home once in awhile, making small, simple dishes for one. Which is of course, a complete lie, unless you count making toast. But the little white lie does its deed and eases their guilty conscience of the possibility that their single, 25 year old niece at home alone, staring into an empty can of beans, starving to death.

It's a national preoccupation, asking whether one has eaten yet, and if so, what has one eaten. I recall a few years ago visiting my Atok at the hospital, recovering from extensive heart surgery. As I sat intently by his bedside waiting for him to wake up, he finally stirred, sleepily opening his eyes and focusing on me. He managed a few words:

"...dah makan?"

The problem with eating out isn't so much the cost. We Malaysians are lucky to live in a country where eating out can work out cheaper than eating in. The cost of driving to the supermarket paying exorbitant prices for simple things like cucumbers and Camembert and lugging them back home through the jam is, well, too costly (time costs as well). Though one must be discerning of choosing the right cheap eats e.g. mamak or stall food. Lucky we are, but then we die from MSG poisoning.

The problem lies in choosing what to eat. I've lost track of the number of times A and I have spent over an hour debating on what to eat.

"I feel like Thosai."
"But yesterday you said you felt like Bodega's Big Breakfast."
"Oh yeah, but I didn't like the eggs last time, they were too runny."
"Okay, how about Alexis' Breakfast? I think the eggs were better there."
"Oo then we can have cake as well. But hmm... i'm trying to be healthy."
"Okay, what can we have that's healthy?"
"I suppose I could have their muesli, that's healthy. But i'm not in a muesli mood...I want something..something spicy."
"Like Indian spicy?"
"Yeahhh, what can we have that's Indian Spicy? How about Thosai?"
"Okay, let's have Thosai."
"But hmm...is Thosai considered healthy, with all that curry and santan...."
"(kill me now)..."

I am a lucky girl that A plays along with my indecisiveness when it comes to food. Though, he has a stake in it as well . It's in his interest to that we come to a solid decision as to where to eat, and pronto; when A gets hungry, he gets unbelievably cranky. I can tell from the onset the exact moment when the beast needs to be fed.

I on the otherhand get cranky when we choose wrongly. If a meal falls short of my expectations, I won't finish it - which believe me, took years of retraining, after being drilled by my mother that some poor starving Ethiopian kid was crying on the otherside of the world because Khaylis did not finish her rice. And when I don't finish my food, it puts A off his food. Then you have two unhappy, hungry bunnies with unfinished meals.

Thus, choosing where to eat carefully, though time consuming, is of utmost importance (for the sake of our relationship).