On Sunday evening I had dinner with my parents, which is a regular thing for me. We decided to go out for dinner. At the end of the meal, we had leftovers, so we packed up some takeout containers. One of the remaining items was some stir-fried noodles, which my parents were gracious enough to let me have.

As we were walking back to the car, my father was concerned about how I was going to heat up those noodles back at my own home. He proceeded to ask me,

“Do you have a frying pan at home?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that since I was surprised he even thought that was a valid question. My mother began scolding him for asking such a silly thing and then I just laughed a bit before telling him that I indeed did have a frying pan.

I actually currently have three frying pans at home: a trusty cast-iron, a large non-stick, and a smaller stainless steel. I remember having a cast-iron pan in my later years in undergrad at university where I probably cooked and ate steak way more often that I should have.

I suppose my father still thinks I maintain a very spartan and college-like abode, with a single plate and cup, with the barest of necessities. While I don’t purport to have a kitchen to rival a Michelin three-star, I can do better than a boiling a pot of water on a hot plate.

You know, my father is occasionally super surprised to hear that I’m able to do the most common things, which makes me wonder if he believes I’m some sorta idiot savant. In which case, I bet he’s very proud of me for getting this far in life: getting employment, living on my own, and dressing myself in the mornings. Well, that’s not so bad, I think anytime a parent is proud of you, you’re doing alright. Ok, I need to go put on my helmet and get to work.

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