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Cooking
Madness
by
Carol Castellano
Reprinted from Future Reflections
Why
anyone would want to spend two or three afternoons a
week cooking with a couple of little kids, I don't know
(Serena is four and a half and blind; John is two and
sighted). But then again, if I don't cook with them,
supper simply doesn't get on the table because at 4:30
or 5:00, my two formerly pleasant, reasonable children
turn into Cling-Ons. That is, they wrap their now whining,
tearful bodies around my legs. It is difficult to move
briskly about the kitchen weighted down by sixty pounds
of baby, so I would ordinarily give up and go play with
them on the living room floor until my husband came
home, whereupon he would either relieve me, go call
for take-out, or, in desperation, cook supper himself.
Then
I discovered cooking with the dumplings. They
really love it, and their dad is happier, too. So,
everything takes three times as long. So, we
make quite a mess. We do eventually get a decent meal
on the table, and my kids are gaining a good knowledge
of cooking tools and terms.
They
scurry about gathering ingredients and searching for
pots in the cabinets. "I need the very large pot way
in the back," I'll tell them. "See if you can find
its cover." At the refrigerator we practice with terminology
such as "bottom drawer on the right" and "the compartment
on the door." Then they drag chairs over to the sink
for washing hands. I run the water so that Serena can
hear where to bring her chair (our kitchen is a large
square with cabinets on two sides, and Serena is still
learning her way around in it). If there are any vegetables
to be scrubbed, we do it together at the sink. Then
they climb up on their "cooking chairs" at the table.
The
children usually begin with peeling the skin from onions
or garlic. If necessary, I "start them" by making a
slit with a knife. Serena can easily tell when the garlic
is completely peeled. Then we put all our vegetables
on a large cutting board. I tell them to choose one
vegetable and get ready for cutting. I pick up the knife
and put one child's hand on it under mine. We talk a
lot about the fact that the blade can be dangerous and
that they are never to handle sharp knives without an
adult.
When
we cut large items like carrots I let the children hold
them themselves with my hand over theirs. Serena likes
to feel the tips and stems we're going to cut off. So
that she will really understand what the knife is doing
and where it goes, we pause midcut and she feels the
slit the knife is making. After the cut, I often push
the carrot or potato together and let her slide it apart
so she can relate the whole to the parts. When we slice
small items such as garlic, I tell them, "Mommy has
to hold the garlic because it's too small and I don't
want the knife blade to get too near your fingers."
Sweet
potatoes lend themselves well to math lessons. "Choose
a potato, Serena. Now, let's cut this potato in half.
Here, see what the halves look like. Are they big or
small? Yes, they're still too big to go in the pot.
Let's cut them in half again. Make the pieces stand
up on their flat end." Slice. "Now look. They're much
smaller, but we still need to cut them some more. Make
all the pieces lie down." All this handling of the pieces
builds a concrete knowledge of many concepts, including
the fact that living things contain water.
If
the vegetables need to go right into boiling soup or
water, I usually insert the extra step of having the
children pick up the pieces and put them into a bowl
first. Serena checks to see if any pieces are still
too big and if the cutting board is empty. Sometimes
they load the vegetables into the upper section of the
food processor (nowhere near the blade, and again, with
much discussion of safety) and then together they press
the start button (it takes two of them to do it!). After
I remove the blade, we examine the results of the processing.
I
do all the work at the stove or oven, explaining to
the children why they cannot. We talk about the sounds
and smells of cooking. We listen for the water to boil;
we note the sizzle of sautéing food. I explain
the various plops, splashes, and bubblings in the hot
pots as I pour and stir.
Dry
ingredients are a lot of fun. The children open all
the containers, learning about lids, spouts, corks,
twist-offs, screw-ons, push-ins, pop-tops, and pull-tabs,
while developing their dexterity and strength. I give
each of them a measuring cup and spoons and a stainless
steel bowl (good for noise) then we scoop and pour many
more times than we actually need to, listening to the
sounds and digging in to feel the textures and, yes,
tasting, too. John prefers raw macaroni; Serena favors
flavored breadcrumbs. There's no accountin' for taste.
When
the children open oil and spice containers, we sniff
and enjoy their pungency. Then we pour and sprinkle,
letting the oil drizzle and the flakes filter over Serena's
fingers so that she can see what they feel like and
how they come out. Of course, this appeals an awful
lot to John, too. They take turns sprinkling the spices
on. Serena's turn. John's turn. Serena's turn. John's
turn. They never forget whose turn it is, and our food
gets awfully spicy.
We
open cans at our house with a primitive tool, the manual
can opener. We work hand over hand, and I explain as
best I can how the wheel cuts into the can; it's hard
to feel. But the click as the cover unattaches is very
noticeable, and Serena certainly knows when it occurs.
Again we discuss handling the sharp edge of the top
with care. Then little fingers dip into the liquid within
for licking.
Among
the foods my children like to cook the most are eggs
and fish. Eggs make the supreme mess, I'm sure that's
why. We crack them hand over hand and then, I have to
admit, I let them stick their hands into the slime below.
They love it. We wash our hands again. Fish is fun because
they get to slap it into the pan. They really like doing
that. They even enjoy having smelly hands. I make them
wash up again.
For
some unknown reason both of my children believe that
they should make the messes and Mom should clean them
up. They are unanimous about this and unwavering. I
have not yet conceived of an effective means of combating
their united stance. I do a lot of sweeping up of raw
rice and elbow macaroni and cous cous.
But
now to the end result. Dad comes home. The sweet smell
of supper wafts through the air. The kids are hungry
for food that they cooked. Our family will eat
tonight.
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