The problem with having a sister who’s a chef is that her standards are naturally high. And since she knows what these exotic dishes are supposed to taste like, she won’t settle for less. I am less discriminating. I eat anything that looks and tastes reasonably good and pronounce it as delicious! And sometimes I haven’t tasted some of the dishes before, so in my rather blissful ignorant reality, they are pretty damn good. The sister on the other hand chews, tastes, ponders, rolls her eyes and then pronounces, “Ummmm…. it’s okay.” Sigh.