Tale guide

An executive decision

An executive decision

The storm was busy blowing itself out over Wales and I decided on the spur of the moment that I would experiment with a new recipe for dinner.

I announced with a certain exhilaration, that I have made an executive decision and that I intended preparing a Thai green prawn stir fry  for that evening.

Those that know us well will appreciate that whenever I make an executive decision, I best announce it so that the appropriate authority to take such a decision is obtained.

On this occasion, Annie was either not concentrating on my announcement or chose, for a change, to be graceful on the subject. Either way I got to deliver on my executive decision.

Of course, the fact that Annie is quite skilled in the preparation of Thai food did slip my mind at the time not that it would normally affect things other than of course, being a bit of a connoisseur, she would be a tad more difficult to satisfy.

In hindsight, it would have been a whole lot easier if I had chosen a Mexican dish to make.

But I consulted with Google, as one does when one is generally not au fait with cooking in general, and I found what seemed to me to be an excellent Thai green prawn stir fry recipe. I listed the ingredients required to make the curry paste and went off to the supermarket to pick up the couple of things we didn’t have available in the pantry.

That afternoon I meticulously followed the instructions and ended up with a green paste from green chilies, lime juice and zest, fresh coriander, ginger, garlic, and lemon grass. I fried up the bean sprouts in hot oil in the wok, dropped in the paste and a can of coconut milk followed by the prawns.

The end result was a deep green and pungent mix which was to be served on fresh Chinese noodles.

The aroma from my cooking wafted through the house and reminded me of downtown Phuket on a hot day.

A small Chef’s taste signaled that things may not have gone the way the originator had planned. It did seem just a little overpowering, but I followed the recipe to a ‘t’, so I supposed it was what it should have tasted like?

“Dinner is served my darling,” I called hesitantly, now somewhat concerned that the dish may not go down particularly well.

In all fairness, when I spooned the curry over the noodles on her plate, I did think it didn’t look particularly appetising, but I didn’t really appreciate the extent thereof.

I am getting on in years so have acquired a certain skill in reading the telltale signs that give away someone’s silent demeanor.

As I tucked into my serving, I couldn’t help but notice the reluctance in Annie’s demeanor as she hesitantly drew her fork across the noodles and took a closer look at what lay before her. There was a certain trepidation in the way she went about the inspection.

She lifted a mouthful of the concoction to her mouth and tried to savour the food. It was instantly evident that it didn’t go down particularly well.

“Is it OK?” I asked.

“It’s fine,” she replied.

For those younger and less experienced in the ways of the world, let me share with you that there are three things that a woman says which have completely different meanings to what we were taught at school.

They are “If you say so,” “Don’t worry,” and the most underestimated one, “It’s fine!”

“It’s fine,” is usually delivered in a rather short, unemotional monotone and in that context, one needs to appreciate that ‘fine’ is actually, very far from the truth!

She continued pecking at my dinner and it seemed evident that she refrained from passing a negative comment because she was torn between trying not to hurt my feelings and telling me like it is. There was an outside chance that she felt that I had made such a sterling effort towards relieving her of the usual burden of preparing dinner, that she felt sorry for me.

Silly me! I know the signs and understand the meaning of ‘it’s fine’ so I had little choice but to press her for an honest opinion.

There is a very fine line between a woman’s desire to be forgiving and sympathetic and her need to take corrective action in the vein hope that in some small way, we (men) will never repeat the failures of the past.

“It’s actually bloody awful,” she announced without the slightest hesitation. “The problem is that you don’t know anything about cooking so you can’t determine quantity and quality and just go over the top.”

“But for years I have wowed my fishing mates with my culinary skills,” I declare in a desperate attempt to defend. “I have won numerous awards for being the best Chef on camp!”

“Those buggers wouldn’t know the difference between overcooked lamb and grilled lobster. They are all men who know less about cooking than you, for goodness sake. And besides which, did it ever occur to you that you were the only ‘chef’ on camp?”

“May I get you something else?” I ask tentatively trying to steer us away from the disaster.

“A glass of wine, thank you.”

As I spooned the balance of my attempt into the food bin, I hoped that my undertaking never to try Thai ever again, would be the end of it, but then again, based on my years of experience, I should have known better. Her dislike of the meal I had so diligently attempted to prepare, very quickly turned to humorous ridicule and within days, the story had reached our local and even the toughest at the pub found it uncontrollably amusing.

What does one say other than hopefully my exploits in the kitchen will go some way in saving the face of at least one young fellow in years to come?

If so, I will finally be laid to rest knowing I, at least, made a small but meaningful contribution to man’s avoidance of one domestic pitfall.

I have to sign off now. Its time to order a takeaway!