"When a woman puts too much salt in her food, it is a sign that she is in love..."
- Spoken by Vera Ezimora's mom - day and date, forgotten.
While everyone else was baking, dissecting, and eventually, digesting a turkey for Thanksgiving Day, I was busy cooking, and then, eating okra soup. First of all, I don't eat turkey. Secondly, I love okra soup - when I cook it. Lastly, I had been craving okra soup for so long, and Thanksgiving Day seemed like the perfect time to have some.
Dare I say that the soup was oh-so-good! It was finger-licking, head-spinning, orgasm-causing good. Yes, it was that good. I don't know what I put in it, but if any man had dared to eat it, he would have begged me to let him pay quadruple on my bride price. I did, naturally, consider getting several men to eat it, but the soup was just so darn good. I could not get myself to share it. Not to worry, the hands that cooked the soup are neither weary nor limp. Forget about juju (black magic), this soup, littered with mouth-watering pieces of oxtail, tripe, and goat meat, is the best, safest, most assured way to get that proposal those proposals.
My only regret is that I did not cook a bigger pot of soup. Oh, the other regret is that I did not have any pounded yam, so I had to eat it with farina. Sigh. Farina just doesn't have the same effect as pounded yam. It does not glide. It just passes through. You probably don't need me to tell you that this soup, too, is a sure husband getter. And permanent keeper. I just need to cook both soups, and then, go to a male-infested, testosterone-breeding ground and serve it to them. Unfortunately, the male bathroom is not suitable. Some other time, I guess.
I don't typically eat fufu with a fork, but I was typing, so I needed both hands. Besides, Nwoke Ocha (my laptop) is white.
The last time I prepped for marriage, I blogged about it - In Preparation For Marriage - and at the end of my prep, which was for onugbu (bitterleaf) soup, mom said I didn't do anything, that all I did was take pictures, and that we need to do it again. I did not agree then. But considering that I now do not recall anything I may have learned about the principles and techniques of cooking onugbu soup, it appears that we I need to do it again.
Grandma thought my okra soup was a bit salty, although she was the only one who thought that. Everyone else, especially me, thought it was okay. Mom thought it was not salty, but even if it was, she had a perfectly good explanation, and that's the quote up there, at the beginning of this post.
My response to mom's comment: No Comments.
