I prefer the old fashioned way. A little oil splash here and there and voila my meat and fish is fried. But I decided to be a modern woman after all my man had complained severally of my “bushness.”
“I bought you a microwave but you decided to use pot and hot water to defrost food. I got you an oven, but you are usually glued to the coal stove. What exactly is going on in that head of yours? He said one hot afternoon when he came into the kitchen to understand why it was taking so long for me to give him his eba and soup.
I smiled, but he was not done with me, not yet.
“You have a masters degree, yet you have refused to adapt and change with times.” He said with a note of resignation.
All the modern kitchen gadgets can be found in my house. But I wasn’t into them. What was that thing they said about “he who has head does not have cap and he who has cap does not have a head to wear it.”
That was my case. It was pathetic because I found it difficult to change. Let’s just say I was set in my ways.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I cooked with the coal stove and the smoke somehow found its way to the living room.
On that fateful day, my husband was with his business associates. I just wanted to ensure everything went on smoothly and timely. So I opted to cook the food on a coal stove to give it the firewood flavour.
Talk about firewood JOLLOF. The mere thought makes me salivate.
Unknown to me, the smoke stirred towards the living room area. I was not aware the windows were opened. Usually, we close the dining area and living room windows and switch on the air conditioner. But today was different, they (hubby and his associates) decided to get a whiff of the early morning breeze.
Someone suggested it and they agreed to it. He said it was a healthy habit rather than air conditioners all the time. Besides, they said it’s safer to have an airy room while observing social distancing due to the covid situation.
“Is madam cooking?” One of them asked in a thunderous voice.
“Yes.” Hubby replied.
“Tell her to take it easy, the smoke is alot,” another said.
And in unison, they began to cough.
My husband rushed to the kitchen to investigate the source of the smoke.
Then he opened the back door and saw me humming soft tunes.
It’s ready, I said with a big smile. But when I turned around and saw disgust written all over his face, I knew something terrible must have happened.
“Why do you delight in embarrassing me?” He said in a vexatious tone.
“If I wanted a village wife, I would have married one. But I wanted someone who had the same IQ as me.” He said.
I was speechless, I looked around, I was trying to understand the source of the venom.
“What’s the meaning of this?” He said pointing his finger at the coal stove.
I was shocked.
“I I ….I just cooked party JOLLOF rice for your business associates.” I stammered.
“I will bathe and dress nicely before I say hello to them and also serve them.” I said in an explanatory tone. I was trying to ease off the tension.
“Why cook with a coal stove when you have a gigantic gas cooker ?” He said.
“Oh that? I…I… wanted …” I said
“Never mind, we would be going out for lunch. Don’t bother serving them your meal.” He cut me off mid sentence.
They have inhaled enough smoke and I am certain they all reek of smoke too.
With that incident, I resolved to try out modern kitchen gadgets in my kitchen.
I ditched my coal stove and focused on the gas cooker.
I usually cook my rice with a rice cooker. My meat, I still fried with the frying pan until the hot oil splashed on Hubby when he came to play with me in the kitchen.
He was annoyed that I refused to use the deep fryer. So on that glorious day, I decided to use the deep fryer. But it decided to show me shege. I am guessing it had a meeting and was probably annoyed that I had not touched it for the past 10 years since I had it.
So I filled it up with oil and followed the instructions, problem started when I could not close it properly. It just wouldn’t clip.
Then I did put in the meat, yet it was frying ever so slowly in the semi-opened deep fryer.
At that point, I knew I was in trouble. I took out the second dry fryer and experienced a similar problem.
5 hours after trying to get it right, I decided to wait for my husband.
It was not funny…It was just hilarious….when he arrived.
“You mean you do not know how to use a deep fryer?” He roared.
“Why can’t you just read the instructions.” He murmured.
I was quiet.
He took the manual and read the same, he tried assembling the deep fryer, but it wouldn’t close. He was perplexed and after trying for an hour he gave up.
“My dear, use whatever makes you comfortable.” He said in a quiet tone.
But I wasn’t going to hear any of it.
“Please fix it. I have decided to be a modern woman, just as you want it.”
With that, I walked away. I knew I was never going to look at any deep fryer the same way, ever again.