The Mild Fiancée and I have a very interesting relationship to food. Between the two of us, we will eat just about anything and seek out interesting food. We also spend time a good amount of time cooking an interesting diet, so things are never very dull in our kitchen or at our table. Basically, there's always a laugh or two to be had.
The latest turn of events is that we've noticed that the Mild Fiancée likes to season her food a bit more than I do. Neither of us add so much that the food tastes bad, but it's readily apparent who adds more spices to the food. I don't just say that to avoid getting dirty looks; other people have complimented the Mild Fiancée's cooking for a very long time. She knows what she's doing in the kitchen.
So, perhaps it's more appropriate to say that I add less seasoning to the food than the Mild Fiancée. I appreciate flavor as much as the next person, but I just prefer a bit less seasoning. There's no accounting for preferences, I suppose. Of course, it didn't take very long for us to realize this fact about our cooking, so there has been so friendly ribbing over this. I poke fun about the Mild Fiancée's extra seasoning, and she accuses my cooking of being bland. Specifically, she uses the Kapampangan word for "flavorless," matabang. Let's just say that the word has been used in enough jokes that I now remember it.
Better yet, the whole thing came up when we stopped by to visit the Mild Fiancée's parents. The Mild Fiancée and I had gone to a Filipino restaurant that we really liked, largely because they did a really good job of seasoning the food. Unfortunately, it's far too common to find places that simply throw seasoning at the food, so that it ends up tasty too greasy, too salty, or too something. We had been very impressed with that food, so we were recommending it to her folks. That's when they threw out this gem:
Parents: "But, [Mild Fiancée], you like the food matabang."
I couldn't help it, I just started laughing. When I caught the Mild Fiancée's eye, she immediately knew why I was laughing, and she had to explain to her folks the backstory. I don't remember the exact comment, but it was something along the lines of, "you think I'm bad? He likes it WAY bland." The tone in her voice was probably the best part. It was part accusatory, part pleading, part conspiratorial, and all laughter. Everyone had a good, hearty laugh about this (myself included).
Who knew learning bits and pieces of another language would be this much fun?
The latest turn of events is that we've noticed that the Mild Fiancée likes to season her food a bit more than I do. Neither of us add so much that the food tastes bad, but it's readily apparent who adds more spices to the food. I don't just say that to avoid getting dirty looks; other people have complimented the Mild Fiancée's cooking for a very long time. She knows what she's doing in the kitchen.
So, perhaps it's more appropriate to say that I add less seasoning to the food than the Mild Fiancée. I appreciate flavor as much as the next person, but I just prefer a bit less seasoning. There's no accounting for preferences, I suppose. Of course, it didn't take very long for us to realize this fact about our cooking, so there has been so friendly ribbing over this. I poke fun about the Mild Fiancée's extra seasoning, and she accuses my cooking of being bland. Specifically, she uses the Kapampangan word for "flavorless," matabang. Let's just say that the word has been used in enough jokes that I now remember it.
Better yet, the whole thing came up when we stopped by to visit the Mild Fiancée's parents. The Mild Fiancée and I had gone to a Filipino restaurant that we really liked, largely because they did a really good job of seasoning the food. Unfortunately, it's far too common to find places that simply throw seasoning at the food, so that it ends up tasty too greasy, too salty, or too something. We had been very impressed with that food, so we were recommending it to her folks. That's when they threw out this gem:
Parents: "But, [Mild Fiancée], you like the food matabang."
I couldn't help it, I just started laughing. When I caught the Mild Fiancée's eye, she immediately knew why I was laughing, and she had to explain to her folks the backstory. I don't remember the exact comment, but it was something along the lines of, "you think I'm bad? He likes it WAY bland." The tone in her voice was probably the best part. It was part accusatory, part pleading, part conspiratorial, and all laughter. Everyone had a good, hearty laugh about this (myself included).
Who knew learning bits and pieces of another language would be this much fun?
Comments
Post a Comment