24 How Hard Could It Be? 2 (1/2)

The problem began when Carl began multitasking. Since he didn't know how to tell if the pasta has been cooked al dente, he let it boil and focused on heating oil in the pan to sauté the garlic. He did not wait much as he immediately put the shredded chicken in the pan.

He remembered to reduce the heat before he continued stirring the chicken. He stopped for a while to check on the pasta, it was not as soft as he wanted, he wasn't sure if this was what the al dente meant as he didn't bother to look up the word in a dictionary. Nonetheless, he left the pasta and continued with the chicken.

A few minutes later, he added a few spices and pepper. Two minutes later, he set it aside. He began to sauté garlic and onions again. As usual, he did not let the onions brown or produce aroma before he added the puréed tomatoes. When it began to thicken, he added the chicken. All this while, the pasta was still being cooked. The water had dried up and it was overly cooked. Seeing this he immediately turned off the stove.

Even though it was over cooked, he decided to finish things. He added the pasta to the chicken sauce. It took less than thirty minutes. Since this was his first attempt, he felt he did a pretty good job, after all, nothing burnt. The only casualty was the overcooked pasta. Without so much as tasting it through out the whole process, he took out two plates and served the food. He took out two glasses and waited for Kim to show up.

Not quite five minutes later, the door clicked and she entered. She was surprised at the smell. She did not remember cooking anything. And Carl did not cook, not to her knowledge anyway.

”Welcome home.” He said in a cheery voice, smiling brightly. She was surprised he was home before her. More importantly his smile was too bright.

”What's up?” She asked, raising a brow at him.

He went to her, pulling her to the kitchen area. ”I.. I cooked dinner.” He said, massaging the back of his head.

She was rather surprised. She looked at the table. It looked good and it smelled good too so of course she would assume it tasted good.

”You cooked?” She questioned in disbelief. ”When did you learn to?”

Grinning, he replied, ”Today.”

Looking up at him, she began, ”You're kidding, right? You can't possibly perfect it in a day...”

Pulling out a chair, he gestured for her to sit. He went to the fridge, got a bottle of water and a pack of orange juice. He poured her a glass a water, raising the glass, he said, ”You must be thirsty, here.”