Stories of KK

When my brother called me recently, one of the first things he asked was: “So what are you all eating?” A most valid question. Considering that instant noodles are my forte. (I did cook instant noodles for our first meal here, in Sydney)  KK has been doing all the cooking.  The one time I tried to cook here – a fried noodle dish – I cut up all the ingredients beautifully, set them in their plates and then stared. I had to think about whether to throw in bacon or the carrots first. In the end, I waited for him to put ladle to the pan.  I’m ashamed to say, he is a much better, or rather, a much more comfortable cook than I am. He’s not a great cook, no Iron Chef here. But he manages to make do with whatever is available and concoct edible and basic stuff. Here he’s doing up chicken soup. I’m once again most ashamed to say, soup was a mystery to me. I had no idea what or how to make soup. Night after night, thanks to my parents and the maid, scrumptious Cantonese soups (the kind with herb