"The heart (of man) is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can understand it" Jeremiah 17:9.
And so I found myself tossing the plate of dodo (fried plantain) into the trash can: angry at myself for not paying much attention when buying the stuff. But then who would blame me.
Earlier that day, I had just finished from a series of meetings, and was waiting beneath a very hot
Earlier that day, I had just finished from a series of meetings, and was waiting beneath a very hot
afternoon sun for my car to come back for me. Unfortunately, the usual Lagos traffic made what should have been a 5min wait stretch into a full hour.
While waiting, I started recalling the events of the previous day. Now as much as I love cooking (I think I actually cooK even in my sleep), there's just one area that has never held any appeal to me - frying plantains, arrgh!
Don't get me wrong, I eat the stuff but I'm not a fan (Infact I could go a full year without it, I couldn't be bothered).I can do anything you want happily with it. It's the frying process that just upsets me. Well you Know how some people hate doing laundry or ironing, for me it's frying plantains.
So after a long busy day cooking and making deliveries, I end up at 'Chez Bolo' to have some long overdue girlfriend time and rest before the drive home. Ofcourse, I'm tired and hungry, and as I enter the house I smell the aftermaths of, you guessed it, Dodo. Naturally my stomach growls, so you can imagine my delight when my dear 'bolo' offers to fry some for me. With eggs, yipee! Hmmm,it was delicioso amigas! Well I was supposed to leave with a nice bunch (her mum supplies the stuff) which sadly I forgot.
So standing under this hot afternoon sun, flustered and hungry, I spot a plantain hawker across the road. The next thing I know I'm over there purchasing a really small bunch in the hope that the experience of the day before would be re-lived. Surely I could put aside my dislike for the frying for one day.
Now try to imagine my disgust after going through that awful process, only to pop one into my mouth in anticipation only to taste nothing. Yes, I said nothing. The plantain was bland and tasteless.
At first I assumed it was me, so I asked my brother to taste it. Hmmm, he had this funny look on his face, asked to see the unpeeled remainder and promptly burst into laughter. His assessment: the stuff was 'force ripened', probably on a hot generator, as he put it.
Maybe if I was a connoiseur of the stuff, despite the hotness of the day and other disabling effects, I would have noticed the false ripeness?
Still, why are people so fraudulent?
Hmmm, Bolo darling, I de come back this weekend o, so arrange my plantain down ready for me. No excuses!
*Bolo is a term of endearment for a dear loved friend.
Xoxo!
Kelacious K.
While waiting, I started recalling the events of the previous day. Now as much as I love cooking (I think I actually cooK even in my sleep), there's just one area that has never held any appeal to me - frying plantains, arrgh!
Don't get me wrong, I eat the stuff but I'm not a fan (Infact I could go a full year without it, I couldn't be bothered).I can do anything you want happily with it. It's the frying process that just upsets me. Well you Know how some people hate doing laundry or ironing, for me it's frying plantains.
So after a long busy day cooking and making deliveries, I end up at 'Chez Bolo' to have some long overdue girlfriend time and rest before the drive home. Ofcourse, I'm tired and hungry, and as I enter the house I smell the aftermaths of, you guessed it, Dodo. Naturally my stomach growls, so you can imagine my delight when my dear 'bolo' offers to fry some for me. With eggs, yipee! Hmmm,it was delicioso amigas! Well I was supposed to leave with a nice bunch (her mum supplies the stuff) which sadly I forgot.
So standing under this hot afternoon sun, flustered and hungry, I spot a plantain hawker across the road. The next thing I know I'm over there purchasing a really small bunch in the hope that the experience of the day before would be re-lived. Surely I could put aside my dislike for the frying for one day.
Now try to imagine my disgust after going through that awful process, only to pop one into my mouth in anticipation only to taste nothing. Yes, I said nothing. The plantain was bland and tasteless.
At first I assumed it was me, so I asked my brother to taste it. Hmmm, he had this funny look on his face, asked to see the unpeeled remainder and promptly burst into laughter. His assessment: the stuff was 'force ripened', probably on a hot generator, as he put it.
Maybe if I was a connoiseur of the stuff, despite the hotness of the day and other disabling effects, I would have noticed the false ripeness?
Still, why are people so fraudulent?
Hmmm, Bolo darling, I de come back this weekend o, so arrange my plantain down ready for me. No excuses!
*Bolo is a term of endearment for a dear loved friend.
Xoxo!
Kelacious K.
