Last weekend, we got together (high school clan) and had a super intimate barbecue sesh.
But like everything else, before the good stuff a.k.a food there’s me marinating chicken and complaining every 5 seconds about how the smell will stick to my hair, the spices would get in my nail.. you name it. Sheesh, chickens! Don’t you marinate yourself? 😒
What is this? Why does it smell like this? Enough la enough, i bet it tastes good! -every 2 minutes me whining on top of my it’s gonna stink me complains.
“Rasa la cukup rasa tak?” (Try if it tastes okay)
“What do you mean rasa? How to rasa?” (What do you mean taste it? How am I suppose to taste it?)
“Rasa la, letak jari then rasa.” (Just taste it, run your fingers on the raw chicken and taste it)
“What? No! Are you crazy? I don’t want to die and that’s disgusting! Is that what they teach you in culinary school…?!?!?!”
*apprently you don’t die and that’s how you do it in culinary school.. P/s: I never tried it raw, I went to law school lol!
Ever so decent Rhyz Ruslan.
Was such a lovely night, so chilled with a lot of catching up on each other’s lives. This is what adulthood feels like eh- occasional catch ups and endless things to talk about. Not too bad.