It was a cool and breezy morning. It was Saturday, but we were going to school for a cooking competition. My twin sister had baked delicious chocolate muffins that made my mouth water just looking at them and laid them carefully on a silver tray.

I had baked colourful round squares that looked a bit like cereal except that they were colourful and that they were eaten plain instead of with milk. I carefully put those colourful squares in a shiny, yellow bowl to take to school.

When we reached school, we went straight to the auditorium where the entire school sat with different dishes in their hands. The judge was our cooking teacher, Miss Cookie, who was a tall woman with straight brown hair and bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. She wore a white top with matching white pants and shoes, and looked unusually serious.

One by one, everyone went to her and she ate a bite of their delicious looking food. Her face showed absolutely no expression, but she made some notes on a piece of paper after tasting each student’s food. When she had tasted everyone’s food, she examined her notes and came to the front to announce the results.

I could feel the buzz of excitement in the air, but I was not excited at all. My recipes for cooking are always original, unique and strange. The food I make are my brain’s child. I was not in the mood to make a readymade recipe. I made my own food to my taste. Life is a crumbling cookie and I like to make every ingredient personalised. But I knew that I didn’t stand a chance of winning because there were so many good dishes prepared by others.

I fiddled with my bag and drifted into a daydream. I was in a world where I could be a cook and make stake with flowers instead of beef. A world where food was delightful.

I was brought back to the real world by a nudge from my sister who hissed at me while shaking her head in disbelief “Your name was called. Go!”

Shocked, I got up and went to shake my cooking teacher’s outstretched hand. She handed me a big, golden trophy with the words “Cooking Champion of 2019” written in big, blue letters.

The school applauded loudly and I felt myself blushing. I had never even imagined that I could win this competition. The recipe that I had chosen was like all my other recipes, one that I had come up with myself.

My food item was square-shaped and colourful, and I had put in a lot of time and effort into making it. I wanted to give it a good and suitable name. After a lot of thought, I decided to call it “Tibs”.

Today, I run a company called Tibbet which sells only one item and that is Tibs. Tibs are both healthy and tasty so if you still haven’t tried them, try them today.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2020

Opinion

Editorial

Holding the line
16 Mar, 2026

Holding the line

PAKISTAN’S long battle against polio has recently produced encouraging signs. Data from the national eradication...
Power self-reliance
Updated 16 Mar, 2026

Power self-reliance

PAKISTAN’S transition to domestic sources of electricity is a welcome development for a country that has long been...
Looking for safety
16 Mar, 2026

Looking for safety

AS the Middle East conflict enters its third week, the war’s most enduring victims are not those who wage it....
Battling hate
Updated 15 Mar, 2026

Battling hate

In the current scenario, geopolitical conflict, racial prejudice and religious bigotry all contribute to the threats Muslims face.
TB drugs shortage
15 Mar, 2026

TB drugs shortage

‘CRIMINAL negligence’ is the phrase that jumps to mind when one considers the disturbing consequences of the...
Chinese diplomacy
Updated 14 Mar, 2026

Chinese diplomacy

THERE are signs that China is taking a more active role in trying to resolve the issue of cross-border terrorism...