| by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Friday, March 11, 2005, 1:17:00 AM | permalink |
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A few months ago, I sat at the kitchen table. In anticipation or apprehension? I still don't know now. I watch her at the stove, whipping up a spell. A dash of ingredients here, stir a little there.. Boil, boil, toil & trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. I catch a whiff of the brew. Oooh. And with a flourish, she turns around to look at her A satisfied chersire cat smile on her face, a dangerous glint in her eyes. I thought I saw a flicker of flame in there for a moment.. Or was it a reflection from the cooking fire? Her expression reminds me of one I imagine myself would have when I'm enjoying the adrenaline rush from a great rock climbing session, after a heavy gym workout, or some hi-risk-can-almost-getting-myself-killed activity. I guess her's was a culinary high. It is ready! Mel took a step back, to find relief away from the heat, & to observe her creation.. And she saw that it was good. In a position of privilege rather than out of some deserved right, I am served the meal. I look at the platter, take a spoonful of it to my mouth. A cautionary bite, I paused a moment to allow my taste buds to thoroughly soak up the flavour, explore & report back to brain HQ. Palability confirmed, I devoured everything like a starved war refugee. I enjoyed the dinner extremely, not because it was some exclusive 5-star restaurant course that provided a heavenly out-of-body experience. I don't know to put it into words effectively: I guess by satisfying my basic need of hunger, my appreciation is for her is like that of the provided for the provider. I also appreciated the time, effort & detail involved in the process. The warm feeling I feel afterwards is more than just due to the piping hot makan. Its true what they say: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. A hint to all men: this applies vice versa too. |
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If we come back to Freud's theory of you-only-want-to-fuck-your-momma, the saying "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" starts to make sense. After all, our mothers have cooked meals for us since we were young. Which leads to an interesting question: what about the current generation where mothers are more detached from their children now. Will the way to a mans heart be through buying him a Happy Meal from McDonalds?
On a more serious note, cooking a meal whether the girl cooks or the guy cooks is a show of love. Great pains are taken when you cook and it is really quite a sensual act (not in the sexual meaning). The smell, the tastes even how the food looks. Cooking is sensual. Eating also fulfills a basic human need as a base survival instinct. Feeding someone is a way to show the person that you care for them. It's like sex (another survival instinct) but less messier and more tastier. :P
Another way of looking at it is playing house. She's the mother. You're the father. "Cook my meal, ****!". I may just go to hell for this, or at least get attacked by a rabid pack of feminists. I'm not quite sure which is worse.
- by comrade 
Jeiel Aranal @ times 4:03 AM, March 11, 2005
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Maybe you get double-billing: "Jeiel & Attack of the Killer Feminists in Hell"
- by comrade Thomas @ times 4:37 AM, March 11, 2005
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- by comrade 
@ times 6:16 PM, February 21, 2007
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