Letter to Julia 20140809

In the name of Allah, most Gracious, most Merciful.

Hello there, my beloved darling wives.  You know, I don't really have a certain style of cooking.  I'm more or less a go-with-the-flow kind of cook.  A harvester of chaos, I suppose.  But it's not even that: I just take what Allah gives me, and pray for the best.  So if you were to take formal training as an Italian chef, and served many patrons Italian food, that would make you a more superior Italian chef than me.  It's like an imam with formal training would be better at leading people in matters of Islam than me.  I'm just a musician.  Ya Allah, please forgive me, accept my worship, and bless my work.  When I was young, I never wanted to work food business, and when I did, I never really liked it.  What I wanted is to be pretty, be with pretty blondes, and be a Rock Star.  But Allah granted me experience and knowledge of cooking, for which I am grateful.  But I'm not an Italian chef, not a Chinese cook, not a Malay food expert, not a Japanese chef... none of the above.  I just worked for a long time in the food business, and served many patrons.  So I guess I got most of my culinary wisdom from the Department of Health and Human Services.  Plus watching Iron Chef.

For instance, I finally got around to making chicken pot pies today, because the Chinese store didn't have cream cheese on Monday.  I swear, anyone who opened up a cheese specialty store in this community would make a bundle.  Anyway, I had never made chicken pot pies before, and the pastry dough kept shrinking on me.  My filling of chicken cooked in milk, potatoes, blended egg whites with chicken and milk, and cream cheese tasted pretty good.  My pies are cooling as I write this my love letter to you.  I'm sure that they'll taste fairly good, and not too messy.  InshaAllah.  Would you care to join me for dinner?  I love you, I love you.  And I need you, I need you.