Friday 13th March 2015 - The Hostess Guide
Before we leap into the main story, here's a bit of background information about me. I am, what you might call, a hap-hazard cook. I can't do the flavour combination thing, my fridge is always empty and for that reason I regularly have porridge made with water (aka. gruel) for my din dins. If I have a detailed recipe in front of me, I can produce food. However I get horribly stressed in the process and for that reason tend to avoid it.
This, of course, meant that my shoebox of a Hong Kong kitchen was rather minimalistic. So when a male suggested that he could whip up a delicious dinner pour moi after a taxing Saturday at work (passing my wisdom onto the younger generation), I descended into a state of panic. I'm going to estimate that I spent £80 kitting out my kitchen in the days preceding the event. I came back from the shops laden with pans, knives, sieves, tin openers, cork-screws, scissors, wooden spoons, ice trays, chopping boards and tupper-wear boxes, as well as a rather fetching porcelain salad bowl. Then, in a moment of pure genius, I went back to the shop and bought a selection of spices, because I'm a truly skilled culinary fraud.
I almost got away with it too. I successfully removed all tags, emptied the spice pots a wee bit and gave the chopping board a wack to make it look used. Then, on G&T number three, I thought it would be best to come clean about the whole debacle. In hindsight, a bad decision.
And also a waste of 80 quid.