I love cooking. Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, Italian, French, American, Mexican... You name it!
For many years I have been collecting cookbooks and recipes. Everywhere I visit, I go to the local bookshops and buy a cookbook or two. Having said that, I don't really know why I collect them, because I never follow the recipes anyway...
Although most people find cooking therapeutic, I simply love the experiments. It's exciting because you never know exactly what will come out of them. The results are different every time! And even if they fail miserably, you can usually eat the results anyway, in case you don't have a dog, I mean.
I believe my passion for cooking is probably genetic. We have this uncontrollable urge to feed people. Oh hang on, or perhaps it's just our habit of vicarious eating?
My kitchen is my pride and joy, specially designed for any hardcore, heavy-duty experiments. I often have cooking parties here and try my best not to mass-poison people.
Although over the years I have learned some tricks, for example, in general, people's appreciation of my food is directly in proportion to the length of time I keep them waiting and the amount of alcohol I provide.
Well, I am proud to say people usually leave my parties gastronomically content and helplessly drunk!