One Saturday afternoon, my fiancé came home sweating profusely from playing basketball and asks, “Babe, teach me how to cook curry chicken, pleaseeee.” I responded, “You’re kidding right? Let’s learn how to boil water first.” Both of us laugh, however, I notice that he is serious so I obliged to his wants. After he showered, we we’re en route of the meat market. The meat market is the worst smelling place I’ve encountered in all my years. As I walked through the vertical plastic strip door, I held my breath for dear life. After 3 minutes or so I was able to stand the smell of the bloody raw meats. He led me to the chicken display and we carefully made the decision to purchase legs, thighs, and wings. As we we’re headed home, he made one more
