Of Gift Horses

I have just been remembering the somewhat surprising hospitality of the first landlady whose house I ever rented. Actually it wasnt her house, it was a small would be servant quarter for which I paid a whooping 4000 bob a month. The lady was very generous and would invite me to spend some time with her sons. At that time my life was only starting and I had neither a TV nor a tape player. My life was actually very boring.

During those invites sometimes my land lady would cook for her sons and me. I would be given very generous portions of whichever dish she made and all that was good. The only downside to it was that she was a painfully poor cook and I found her chapatis imposible to even chew. They were thick, tasteless and hard and often times I wondered if they were truly cooked. I dreaded the days she would invite me for dinner because I was brought up to understand that it was a bad to look a prize horse in the mouth. Somehow her sons enjoyed her pathetic meals so much that they would ask for a second helping. I kept on wondering how I would tell her without hurting her good heart that she need to up her game. I wished I could get some good cooking recipes somewhere and give her as a present. Only fear was that there was no knowing how she would take it.

I was myself not really a star and could not show her by my example of how good i was with my favorite chicken recipes

So we continued to 'enjoy' the largly impossible cooking. downing every mouthful with a large helping of good laughter and warm atmosphere. If it were today then I would offer her many of the free recipes available and help her put flavor to her good neihborliness.

But Seriously, how do you look a gift horse in the mouth?