Humor: What bugs me most about cooking

What bugs me most about cooking

"Okay," said my wife Katherine. "Time to add the finishing touches to the cha ca ca chung. Have you got it, John?"

"Got what?" I said, peering into a sizzling dish of Vietnamese food.

"The ca chung!" said Katherine. "I bought the fish. I bought the peanuts. I bought the vermicelli and the chilli and the shrimp paste and the mint and the basil and the coriander. All I asked you to get was the ca chung. WHERE IS IT?"

"Um, I forgot," I said sheepishly. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," said Katherine. "You cannot have cha ca ca chung without the ca chung any more than you can have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding without the beef."

"But I don't even remember what ca chung is?" I pleaded.

I could sense Katherine's anger now. The body language was not good. She had her hands on her hips and her face was red, redder than I had seen.
"I've told you already," she snapped. "Ca chung is the liquid extracted from the gland of a male water beetle. You add it to the cha ca when it is cooked. It is perfumed and tasty."

Oh THAT, I thought as I rolled over uncomfortably and woke up in a lather of sweat.
"That was a very realistic nightmare," I thought. "I could even smell the food cooking."

Then I remembered.

Katherine really IS cooking cha ca this weekend.

She told me yesterday that a few of her friends were coming around for a cooking party.
She reeled off the menu, which contains all kinds of exotic dishes, including the cha ca, which she learnt about while living in Vietnam some years ago.

"Never heard of it," I said. "Why can't you cook something I know, like Tim Tam biscuits or Tiny Teddies?"

"Why don't YOU? Katherine said.

That always shuts me up, me being a conscientious cooking objector, and all.

"Anyway," I said. "What is cha ca?

"You'd like it," said Katherine. "It's very hot.
"In Vietnam, it is often served with ca chung, but my group never fancied that."

"What's ca chung?" I said.

"Ca chung is the liquid extracted from the gland of a male water beetle," said Katherine. "You add it to the cha ca when it is cooked. It is perfumed and tasty."

"YUK!" I said.

"Don't panic," said Katherine. "We're not having it. Cha ca tastes fine on it's own."

Just as well.

I know one of Katherine's friends is bringing the fish. Another is bring the peanuts. The third is bringing the herbs.
I have been anxious thinking that at any time I might be called upon to produce the ca chung.

This would pose a great problem for me.

Not only do we not have any water beetles in our neighourhood, but I have no idea how to tell the boy ones from the girl ones.

And another thing: just how to you extract the liquid from the gland?

I am afraid I will have to sleep on that one.

Dozing again now,
Drifting,
Ah, dreaming.

"Here beetle, beetle, beetle ..."

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it