Behold, A Cook Is Born.

Written by
Syreeta E. Akinyede

Charcolit Jollof rice. Obviously I have graduated (image:Sybil)

I don't know if I was mentally prepared by the time I started, but ideally I was supposed to have my mother with me in the kitchen on my first day, but I couldn't,
because she was seriously ill and too weak to move about. I was only eight years old.

I remember running to her room every now and then to ask how many spoons of salt and how much oil I should use. Dad was at work while all this was happening, and yes, I think he is okay with his cooking, but...

I was so proud of the first stew I made, to me it was wonderful, even though I had added too much spices - I was in love with spices - and you could tell the difference between the oil and the pepper, (no perfect blend there). In my Egusi soup I would add curry and thyme, until I was told that those were no-nos for traditional soups.

I got the hang of cooking stews and soups properly, how long after I cannot remember; but I had the chance to develop my cooking instincts really early.

Shortly after my unexpected induction into the world of cooking, I was faced with a tough situation that required skill, speed and tact. (Like seriously at eight years, how tough could life be?) Five of my paternal cousins had come to visit, so there were nine children all under the age of eight years in the house, with me being the eldest.

All the adults had gone out. We didn't mind because we were too absorbed in play. Naturally, after all the exertion, our little tummies began to complain, and then chaos and cries took over. I remember feeling so terrified with the younger ones crying, and the older ones shouting.

This was in the late 80s so all we had was NITEL...so obviously there was no option of ringing up mommy and daddy or aunty and uncle to ask for help.

There was only one thing to do. Cook! My choice of meal, Jollof rice. (by the way, I had to stand on a stool to use the gas cooker). It was a huge success if I do say so myself. Our parents came home to meet an almost empty pot and nine satisfied children, and everyone got to hear about how I saved the day!

I love cooking and baking, and I love experimenting with food (I am not talking about the okra and bread kind of experiments o!), but I sometimes wonder, if I would have been as good a cook as I am today If my mom hadn't fallen ill? I don't think I have the answer to that, but that event certainly added something to my life. Being a child then,  I had the option of just crying along with the others, and waiting for my parents to show up. Yet, I took the initiative and decided to do something about the situation.

We always have the choice to just give up and mope, or stand up and change any situation we don't like.

Have a great week of positive change!