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I am not kidding. Quite a number of people texted me over the weekend, asking me if it were true that I am taking cooking lessons. To my loyal fans, the answer is yes, and this adventure will last for four months, in an obscure school somewhere in my beloved Quezon City.

My own mother is still reeling from the shock of discovering that her only daughter will face her fear of the kitchen. My friend in Dubai is excited at the prospect that she will finally get to eat something I cooked which is not burned – she has never let me forget when I scorched a pan full of scrambled eggs at our choir outing three years ago. This prompted my choirmates to delegate me perpetually to chopping and cleaning duties.

My domestic handicap aside, I love cooking, or at least the thought of it. I grew up watching Wok with Yan, and marveled at all those boat-shaped melons and carved veggies. I enjoy watching Iron Chef (the Japanese version mostly) just to see Chef Matsushiba concoct all sorts of dishes from weird ingredients. To date, I am happy with minor miracles in the kitchen, though they range from boiling water for instant noodles, making egg sandwiches, and frying my favorite Spam. Then I suddenly found myself enrolling with my officemate in the said obscure school for Basic Culinary Arts.

On the first day, our teacher explained to the class of forty or so that the course is named as such because we will not only learn how to cook, but to develop our taste for food as well. This means that we will familiarize ourselves with different herbs and ingredients to discover what works for our own taste buds. We are expected to cook sauces and make stocks.  I’m particularly excited about the plating segment, which explains why the course has “Arts” in its title.

With such encouraging words, my officemate and I began to assemble our arsenal: uniform, knives, pot holders, towels and all else our teacher requires. Oops, I think we forgot the tongs. I gradually realized how complicated shopping for chef’s uniforms and equipment could be, but it’s actually fun. Only I wish there would be enough stoves for us.

I’m looking forward to next Saturday, which is chopping day…something I’m familiar with but hardly an expert at. I’ll stash band-aids just in case. Should I produce something edible in two months, I hope my choirmates will promote me on our next outing.