My husband P is dream to cook for. He’s a bit like Darryl Kerrigan in The Castle “Whattaya call this, Love?”, in that he’s easily pleased. Unlike Darryl, he is also fairly discerning, so when you get a compliment it may actually mean something.
It means that he’s adventurous, not at all fussy, and we have great fun on wedding anniversaries ticking off all the 3-hatted restaurants in town.
But try as a might, I have not been able to overcome his childhood hatred of chokos.
For the uninitiated, chokos are from the cucurbit family, and grow rather like passionfruit on a rambling vine. They grow extremely easily in Australia, so most families have grown them at one stage or another. As a vegetable, they are (frankly) fairly bland, and Aussie mothers typically boiled them to oblivion, much like brussells sprouts. No wonder the poor choko got a bad rap.
In reality, chokos are extremely versatile. They can be steamed with butter and seasoned, cooked into chutney and interestingly – stir-fried. I hear they are wildly popular in Vietnam cooked that way.
So yesterday, under the stealth of naptime, I planted one. I’m hoping by the time he notices the vine it will be too late. If I go down the stir-fry route, I might even be able to slip them into dinner without him noticing.
500m2 in Sydney 