One task was slathering stewed prunes on little crackers, and sprinkling them with lemon and ginger. I enjoyed the pungent smell of the lemon rind and fresh ginger as I chopped them. My boss demonstrated to me what she wanted and I watched her swiveling wrist as it moved the hammering blade. I do not consider myself an accomplished cook. Neither was my mother. Her specialty was tuna casserole, which included precisely three ingredients... Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup, macaroni noodles and and a can of Chicken of the Sea. No measuring, no finesse. Also the same every time. I have no recollection of learning about minced ginger at her elbow. For her, fancy meant extra butter on the peas.

 

My competitive spirit emerged when a college student and I were given the same task, and I worked twice as fast. Then I realized that he has probably never had four whining kids nipping at his heels waiting for pancakes. 

 

One of the bennies of the job was seeing the chef at work. She knows her way around a kitchen. It was like a free cooking lesson. 

 

I realize that I would rather learn by observation than pouring over a cookbook. I have used cookbooks, as is evidenced by the brown spills on my recipes for banana bread and cheesecake. Eventually I even learned them by heart. 

 

There is power in researching relationships from watching couples who know their way around a marriage. What has become second nature to them is for me a rubric in communication. If I pay close attention, I may even learn it by heart. 

Photo by Andy Sullivan

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