The folks living in the same house my daughter shares asked if she can cook?
I wonder why since she really doesn’t need to be able to cook as her weekly rent includes full board.
“There are times when I need something for lunch, or dinner isn’t being made because the family is going out…” she clarifies.
So I ask if she goes without when nothing is cooked?
My food loving daughter replies gustily,
“Oh no, I always make myself pasta, that’s all they see me cooking!”
Pasta, incidentally, is my very active, full of energy, dancer daughter’s, all time favourite food, a love not everyone else in the house shares or can indulge.
On the odd evening when dinner isn’t being cooked she treats herself.
Conscious of this slight dig at her cooking ability from the observant members of her host family she decided to whip up some tuna fish the next time the table was bare at dinner.
Tuna fish is hardly an ingredient I would use to show off my culinary skills, however, it wasn’t pasta so she had a go!
On the tin she found lurking in the cupboard there was no handy ring pull…oh oh…
Looking around she discovered there was no electric can opener either, oops!
In the back of a drawer she found a hand held utensil and after close inspection worked out how to attach it to the lid and start winding.
With the first puncture of the metal she heaved a sigh of relief…and in that moment the three resident felines appeared.
Their tails were up, they were head butting her calves and winding themselves in a complicated figure of eight formation around her feet.
The mere whiff of fish has this effect on all cats. She had forgotten this unasked for feature that came with canned tuna fish.
Then the opener stopped twisting and she had no idea how she was going to complete the circle. The cats fell in to help.
In one breath they were on the counter making growl tiger noises deep in their throats, the proximity of food causing them to drop their aloof act and wheedle their ways brazenly between her hands and the tin to get as close to the fish as their whiskers would allow.
She looked a round the kitchen for either a tool to help her dispense with the lid or a weapon to fight off the cats.
She found a fork and managed to scrape the tuna into a bowl while three excited tails tickled her nose and their heads nudged her hands in encouragement.
Keeping the cats in sight she reached with one hand for the pepper and began seasoning the fish she had managed to retrieve. In their frenzy to satisfy their craving the tin fell off the counter and onto her feet. The cats followed as one.
With them safely on the floor she turned her back for a moment for the mayonnaise and two of the cats lunged! She turned to find them tucking into her meal.
The pasta choice definitely offers less cat appeal.