I make no secret of the fact that I am a bit of of a food snob. Not in a “I only shop at Supermarket X’. More in a “I judge people who prefer takeaways over the joy of home cooked food”. I prefer making my own pastes, pestos, stuffings and everything else. I often judge people’s culinary aptitude, especially the ones who don’t really cook. It’s not in a malicious way, just in a Monica Galetti way.
When I meet somebody who is completely incapable of cooking.
When somebody owns a glass chopping board.
When somebody buys white, sliced bread that comes in a bag.
When somebody doesn’t rest their meat. Or doesn’t know what resting meat means.
When somebody suggest making a curry and using a paste from a jar.
When somebody mentions Tim Noakes and cooking.
When somebody thinks something out of a packet or putting something in the microwave counts as cooking.
When somebody suggests that something out of a takeaway box actually constitutes a meal.