I was sick of having canned or prepared food at home. I was opening packets of things to eat, and some of them did not taste so great.

So I decided to try something cooked from scratch - something that every Chinese-bred Asian should be able to cook: fried rice.

Don't start jumping yet. I realised how tough it was to make it. I knew that my grandmother was the absolute head of the cooking matters of home, granted with years of expertise and much more of experience. Her fried rice is strangely addictive, even if it was cooked the same way every time I had it.

So, I decided to go with it. My family had leftover rice, I grabbed 3 eggs, spring onions, an onion and a whole garlic.

I cleaved the onions and garlic - and cried when the onion went under the knife. I couldn't remember how to slice the onions without cutting the root - or whatever the real name is for the bottom area. The odour was unbearable.

Adding oil to the frying pan (the wok was too large for me to handle), I fried the onion and garlic until the former was translucent and the latter golden brown. The eggs were whisked with spring onion, some onion and slices of ham added in and all that went in. Upping the speed, I scrambled the egg around. When the rice was added in, I realised something was wrong - I had too much rice!

Mixing the rice quickly, I realised that I was wrong - there was actually too much egg. But when the scrambling of the food in the pan continued, everything looked more or less in order.

I then had a taste, after lashing in a bit of soya sauce and sesame oil. Yes, that was all it was to it. But the rice tasted bland.

I decided to cheat. There were chicken stock cubes somewhere in the fridge. I promptly took out one, dissolved it in a pinch of hot water, and threw it into the mixture.

And when I finally served the food and tried it - my goodness!

I had added too much flavour to my food - if that's the proper term for it. The easier way to describe it, I suppose, is that it was too salty.

Nevertheless, I downed the whole plate. I loved sodium, but that was still a bit of an overdose.

A good note I can add in to this random escapade of risk was that I did not poison myself, but I'll leave all the cooking matters to my grandmother - for now.