The UK didn’t deserve last place in the final. They should have come in second last in front of Belarus, but Georgia had different plans for the scoreboard. Either way, I didn’t like the song very much. It might have been somewhat catchy, but it was still cheesy enough that my opinion wouldn’t have changed even if I had taken a mouthful of lactase pills before listening. As a result, my sister really loves to annoy me by playing this song. To make things worse, she decided to play it while I was dropping off someone at the uni dorms on freshman move-in day. The police had blocked all the routes planned by the GPS, I had to drive on the highway at night during a thunderstorm, and my sister decided to skip all the good songs and play “That Sounds Good to Me” on repeat. It did not sound good to me.
So what does sound good to me? Since I can’t find my headphones and my family’s not keen on me blasting music in the house, so the next thing around is food: the sound of stir-fry on a super-hot propane stove. It’s impossible to do in the kitchen without the smoke detector going off, so we’re stuck using the propane stove outdoors on non-windy days, sometimes even when it’s raining or below freezing. (And yes, if you fry bacon in the rain, you need someone else to hold an umbrella). It doesn’t really matter what’s in the pan, as long as the pan is hot enough with a good amount of oil. Once the ingredients go into the pan, everything starts to sizzle, crack, and pop, often as if the food’s plotting revenge against getting eaten. Sometimes it’s falling out of the pan because it hasn’t cooked down yet. Sometimes it’s hiding a drop of water ready to burn me. Or sometimes it’s hiding a drop of oil ready to fall into the stove and create a fireball rarely seen outside of the Food Network. But all I can do is keep stirring and listening to sizzle, sizzle, pop, because I know this dish, a mere 3 mm away from the flames, going to taste so much better than safer, lower temperatures indoors. And if the noise is good, the food will be good. Forget the ketchup (or whatever condiment’s in the kitchen); I’m eating it straight off the plate.