A CHEF IS BORN
You remember when that toddler-wanna-be took those first steps, right? Of course. There's another milestone in some kids' lives: first slicing with a real knife.
My favorite 8-year-old kitchen helper has been asking when she could use the chef's knife to slice and chop since she was 3. She's curious about everything in the kitchen and always is eager to join in the cooking. Last night, we were using chives and mint to make a kind of Asian pesto, dandelions and mushrooms to make a topping for pasta, baby bok choy as the main element of a stove-top braise, and cucumbers for a refreshing, counterpointing salad. We even prepped sugar snap peas for future use. My pal, aided by her 5-year-old sister and good-naturedly abetting her 3-year-old sister's tasting wishes, had dutifully stripped the leaves off the dandelion stalks, separated the leaves of mint from their stems, ripped the strings off the pea pods and was begging for more work.
"Andy,'' she asked, her voice soft but not a tad whiny, "can I chop something?''
She'd probably asked me that question a hundred times over the years, never getting discouraged at my firm, "No, not yet. You need to be stronger to use that knife.''
But on this night, I said, "Yes, you're ready. You did beautiful work with the dandelions and the herbs and the peas. You can slice the cucumbers. I'll show you how.''
Her face was proud and determined. She picked up the santuko and manned her cutting board. She already knows how to properly hold a knife, already has practiced how to grip, firmly, whatever is to be sliced or chopped. She now stirs sauces with a steady hand and is watchful when her younger sisters approach the stove, cautioning them to keep hands behind backs and stand clear of the flame. She is not only strong, she shows responsibility.
So we tasted the cucumbers, to determine if they were bitter and needed to be seeded (they weren't and didn't), but decided to remove most of the peel (a tad tough-textured). Next, I guided her through the first few slices, urging her to slice a bit more thinly. She followed directions. Her cuke slices were beautiful. They stood, crisp and elegant, in a simple salad flecked with fresh dill and dressed with splashes of lime, rice vinegar and olive oil. Thomas Keller would have approved.
It was a momentous first step for my friend. I see delicious things in her future.
cheers,
Andy
6.19.07
My favorite 8-year-old kitchen helper has been asking when she could use the chef's knife to slice and chop since she was 3. She's curious about everything in the kitchen and always is eager to join in the cooking. Last night, we were using chives and mint to make a kind of Asian pesto, dandelions and mushrooms to make a topping for pasta, baby bok choy as the main element of a stove-top braise, and cucumbers for a refreshing, counterpointing salad. We even prepped sugar snap peas for future use. My pal, aided by her 5-year-old sister and good-naturedly abetting her 3-year-old sister's tasting wishes, had dutifully stripped the leaves off the dandelion stalks, separated the leaves of mint from their stems, ripped the strings off the pea pods and was begging for more work.
"Andy,'' she asked, her voice soft but not a tad whiny, "can I chop something?''
She'd probably asked me that question a hundred times over the years, never getting discouraged at my firm, "No, not yet. You need to be stronger to use that knife.''
But on this night, I said, "Yes, you're ready. You did beautiful work with the dandelions and the herbs and the peas. You can slice the cucumbers. I'll show you how.''
Her face was proud and determined. She picked up the santuko and manned her cutting board. She already knows how to properly hold a knife, already has practiced how to grip, firmly, whatever is to be sliced or chopped. She now stirs sauces with a steady hand and is watchful when her younger sisters approach the stove, cautioning them to keep hands behind backs and stand clear of the flame. She is not only strong, she shows responsibility.
So we tasted the cucumbers, to determine if they were bitter and needed to be seeded (they weren't and didn't), but decided to remove most of the peel (a tad tough-textured). Next, I guided her through the first few slices, urging her to slice a bit more thinly. She followed directions. Her cuke slices were beautiful. They stood, crisp and elegant, in a simple salad flecked with fresh dill and dressed with splashes of lime, rice vinegar and olive oil. Thomas Keller would have approved.
It was a momentous first step for my friend. I see delicious things in her future.
cheers,
Andy
6.19.07
posted by Andrea Clurfeld at 1:36 PM
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