Lost in Translation (2)
The bok choys in my garden are now lush and green. With a specific recipe, I have in mind on how to prepare them – sautéed whole in crushed garlic, freshly ground black pepper, some fresh Thai chilies (also from my garden), a cup of chicken broth, and a dash of virgin olive oil, and served while still hot and crunchy – it was time to harvest!
I asked Aurora, another cousin, to wash them and set aside until I was done with my internet surfing. I’ll do it in time for dinner, I told her. A strong internet connection was not something
I get every day in Bukid-non lately, so I had to seize the chance when it was up and running like that day.
“Where are my bok-choys?” I asked my cousin when I went to the kitchen. They were in the basin, washed and cleaned, she said. I couldn’t find them until I saw a large bowl filled with water running over with finely chopped bok choy.
“Aurora mentioned you wanted to eat bok-choy? So, there!” That was my cook. Again, lost in translation!