“If you cook in a bad mood, the bad mood will season your food.” Now, had this been uttered by anyone else, I might have been interested in having a discussion about that statement – philosophical, scientific or silly. But irrational loathing got in the way and I wanted to kick her.
We were standing in the kitchen of a mutual friend, and trying to manage plates of food, forks and glasses. I remember little about the conversation, which was between a few of us, except for this statement made to me, which she followed up by telling us that, even on the worst of days, she cooked only with love and passion. Kicking her would have been the grown-up thing to do, rather than trying to come up with a reply, which didn’t actually come to mind until the next day. But even if it had turned up, it would have been too late: she had already mingled on and was leaning against the fridge patronising someone else.
