Inspired by her little brother’s recent "cookery" efforts, my daughter decides that she too can be independent, creative and a culinary expert.
“D’ya think I could make a grilled cheese sandwich for myself?”
I look at my pre-teen, scissors poised mid sewing project, “by yourself?”
“Sure.”
“Fair enough, go ahead.”
“D’ya know where his cookery book has gone?”
“Yes he took it to therapy to show his therapist.”
“Ah…….so howamy gonna make a grilled cheese sandwich without the book?”
“How indeed?”
“D’ya know howta make one Mom?”
I think deep down in the repository of my culinary experiences over a period approximating forty plus years. “Actually……..I don’t think I have ever in my entire life made a grilled cheese sandwich. The nearest would probably be…..a rarebit or a cheese toastie……which are probably near enough.”
“A ‘toastie’ sounds nice but wotz rabbits gotta do with anything?
“Nevermind, you carry on dear. Knock your self out.”
“Er…..don’t say that mom……it sounds really weird the way your say it.”
“!”
Predictably I attend every step:- where’s the cheese, where’s the bread, can you cut the bread, where’s the knife………surely every parent does this as some stage or other? Every parent knows that the request for independence comes with a baggage of hands on , one on one, time consuming attention.
“D’ya have a pan?”
“What kind of a pan?”
“Er…..a grilling pan?”
“Don’t you just pop it under the grill?”
“Wotsa grill?”
“Oh…..a broiler……the broiler…..stick it under the broiler and……broil it.”
“Duh….then it would be a broiled cheese sandwich and I don’t like the sound of that one little bit.”
“Neither do I funnily enough….something is clearly lost in translation.”
“Wait til I tell everyone at school.”
“Tell everyone at school what? That you made your own sandwich all by yourself?”
“No…….that my mom can’t even cook a grilled cheese sandwich……that’s cookin 101 y’know.”
“!”
5 hours ago
