My Saving Cakes

It used to be that whenever I keep my hands busy in the kitchen; I can whip up something edible and at least something sumptuous even for a discerning palate.

For a number of times, I got my Dad’s approval with regard to the meals I’ve served prompting him to say, “pwede ka nang mag-asawa.”

But lately I seem to have lost my culinary magic. The food I come up with are bland even for me. I can no longer produce food. I cook paper.

The stripping off of the culinary gift must have happened the day I realized I’m no wife material. That in the bleak future, I’d be devouring take-outs or settling with whatever it is I can heat and stuff inside my mouth without getting sick.

I feel bad for my lost gift, my supposed inherent skill. Apparently, it’s not only people I lose nowadays.

Perhaps I can limit, if not stop, my cooking mishap by going back to the basics. By mastering the item in the menu I initially became good at.

At this point, the perfect pancakes may just do the trick.