About an hour ago, barakta prodded me in the elbow (for some legitimate kitchen reason)
Was she trying to tell if you were cooked yet?
No. We had that argument
[1] about the chicken.
"Hmm, it's a bit pink"
"...and?"
"Well, it's a bit pink, that's what I'm saying."
"Pink's a bad thing, right? How pink?"
"A bit."
*facepalms* "2 minutes? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? What?"
"I don't know, why don't you taste it?"
*sighs* *cuts a bit out and tastes it* "Hmm, about 5 more minutes, I reckon."
[time passes]
*removes chicken from oven, prods* "Well?"
(from other side of room) "Well what?"
"Well is it still pink?!?"
"I don't know..." *looks* "Not pink now, how does it taste...?"
Needless to say, I don't normally cook by colour.
[1] This is about as arguey as Kimandbarakta get. We're not very good at it.