“Frankly speaking, it has been so uneasy to be your husband. I always have to finish all your experimental foods (even though sometimes is really… urrrghhh….); I always have to compliment your cooking skill; I always have to pretend being satisfied of your serving.

Sometimes, I couldn’t stand the way you stand in the kitchen, having more fun with those whatever-powder-looking-ingredients, than with me. I feel so transparent in the kitchen. But again, no regret pushing you to study at Le Cordon Bleu (London) before you turn 30 (were you too old to be student again? perhaps it is all worth it). But somehow it makes you even more crazy and addicted to food. You just looked so happily reborn afterwards.

Dear, thanks for the food, the ingredient of our happiness. Cheers, bottom up my dear.”

Your very supporting and best guinea pig,