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Today at lunch, I looked through my fridge and desperately tried to put ingredients together to form some sort of recipe that’d be decent enough. Fresh tomato pasta? Maybe, we still have basil outside. Something with eggplant? Won’t that take too long? As I was deciding between main ingredients Rami walked into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Making lunch?” My statement turned into a question as I said it.
He gently moved me aside, grabbed a leak, a potato, and a few slices of speck (uncooked, salted, and smoked pork that’s been aged anywhere from six months to two years) and proceeded to make a pasta dish that could easily be sold in a restaurant. I forgot we even had potatoes. Every time he whips something up like that, I’m starting to write them down. Maybe someday we’ll put out a recipe book.

And so goes the daily dance of our house – a human that lives and breathes food and drink and can whip up a meal with his eyes closed, and a human that can appreciate good food, but certainly has no idea how to make it good food. As Rami’s new regular at the bar says to him every time he orders a Margarita (an Italian drinking margaritas lol), it’s the passion that makes it good.

I’ve got no passion. Not for cooking, and I think we all know that by now, but as my friend reminded me, I do make a damn good sandwich. She ate one about two years ago now, and she still remembers it. Is it maybe because the food was wholeheartedly American, and that’s not the norm here? Probably, but I’ll still take it. Yes, we can absolutely admit that the most I cook for a club sandwich is bacon, and sometimes the chicken if I’m not using cold cuts, but overall, at least I will be happy to do that for anyone. Fried egg sandwich? No prob. Turkey club? You got it. I can even make decent chicken fajitas – which takes a biiit of cooking (but honestly not really).

Hopefully, someday the cooking geniuses all around me in this country will rub off on me. Or I just compile enough recipes and detailed instructions that I can finally figure out how to do it, even if it’ll never be instinct. Until then, I’m the queen of making sandwiches, and with that, I’m going to go make myself one for dinner.



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