Let There Be Food!
While one may or may not debate the quality of my many skills, one thing is unarguable: the kitchen is not my domain.
"Let's make dinner for people at your place!" katieledge suggested with boundless enthusiasm. The word "let's" implies a joint action, two (or more) persons working together in harmony to generate results. When the result is supposed to be "dinner", however, I should probably not be one of those people.
STEP ONE: SHOPPING
To be fair, this part I can do. I carry a basket which is then loaded with foodstuffs. I am secure in my man-monkey duties, and lug the groceries around, emitting manly monkey grunts throughout to assert my dominance.
My monkey grunts become querulous and even whimpering when a load of tofu is deposited in the grocery basket. As all civilized people know, eating tofu makes one sad inside. Diplomatic negotiations were conducted, and some chicken was acquired to counteract tofu's unholy influence.
Also acquired a brand-new grater. More on that shortly.
STEP TWO: FOOD PREPARATION
The actual cooking is beyond me. But katieledge reckons that I can at least apply basic concepts of food preparation and manipulation, which involved taking a knife to some helpless mushrooms and chicken slabs. Can do. Slice, slice, slice. The mushrooms fall easily to my chopping prowess, owing to the sharpness of the knife. It wasn't that sharp a few weeks ago, but I'd found a whetstone and took it to some of the knives in the knife rack to bring them back up to speed. Apparently, I did a good job.
On to the chicken. A little tougher than mushrooms, but I am unfazed. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack and cut up chicken into smaller chicken portions. Snicker-snack, snicker-snack, SNIKT.
Oh, that's my thumb, sliced from the side and through a chunk of the nail. I did a pretty good job with that whetstone, I must say. Go me!
Right. Enough with the knife. My duties transferred to the grater, shredding ginger and garlic. Not shredding Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in case you're wondering. The grater's big, and brand new, as I mentioned. Untouched by human (or monkey) hands. Unspoiled by base foodstuffs. Away I went with the ginger, con mucho gusto. Grate, shred. Grate, shred. SLICE.
Ring finger knuckle, some blood, check. Wash, rinse, back to grating. Grate, shred, SLICE. Middle finger knuckle, some blood, check. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Somewhere around here katieledge says "Just get out of the kitchen. Go. Go play computer games or something harmless, before you die." Humbled by kitchenware, I comply. She waits for Astrida, who is much more handy and less destructive in culinary affairs than I.
STEP THREE: EATING
My last task: the drinks. Popping the cork on the bottle of Ukrainian Champagne was surprisingly nondestructive. At least, compared to other times I've popped champagne corks. High-pressure ricocheting corks are unwelcome guests at restaurants, we once discovered.
Pulling the cork out of the wine bottle was equally nondestructive, although I had to resort to a Swiss Army Knife because last week I broke my corkscrew, with the "screw" part stuck in a bottle of wine. It just snapped right off. How does that happen? Inconceivable!
Finally, dinner is served. The food is good. Minimal thanks to me, I'm sure.
"Let's make dinner for people at your place!" katieledge suggested with boundless enthusiasm. The word "let's" implies a joint action, two (or more) persons working together in harmony to generate results. When the result is supposed to be "dinner", however, I should probably not be one of those people.
STEP ONE: SHOPPING
To be fair, this part I can do. I carry a basket which is then loaded with foodstuffs. I am secure in my man-monkey duties, and lug the groceries around, emitting manly monkey grunts throughout to assert my dominance.
My monkey grunts become querulous and even whimpering when a load of tofu is deposited in the grocery basket. As all civilized people know, eating tofu makes one sad inside. Diplomatic negotiations were conducted, and some chicken was acquired to counteract tofu's unholy influence.
Also acquired a brand-new grater. More on that shortly.
STEP TWO: FOOD PREPARATION
The actual cooking is beyond me. But katieledge reckons that I can at least apply basic concepts of food preparation and manipulation, which involved taking a knife to some helpless mushrooms and chicken slabs. Can do. Slice, slice, slice. The mushrooms fall easily to my chopping prowess, owing to the sharpness of the knife. It wasn't that sharp a few weeks ago, but I'd found a whetstone and took it to some of the knives in the knife rack to bring them back up to speed. Apparently, I did a good job.
On to the chicken. A little tougher than mushrooms, but I am unfazed. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack and cut up chicken into smaller chicken portions. Snicker-snack, snicker-snack, SNIKT.
Oh, that's my thumb, sliced from the side and through a chunk of the nail. I did a pretty good job with that whetstone, I must say. Go me!
Right. Enough with the knife. My duties transferred to the grater, shredding ginger and garlic. Not shredding Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in case you're wondering. The grater's big, and brand new, as I mentioned. Untouched by human (or monkey) hands. Unspoiled by base foodstuffs. Away I went with the ginger, con mucho gusto. Grate, shred. Grate, shred. SLICE.
Ring finger knuckle, some blood, check. Wash, rinse, back to grating. Grate, shred, SLICE. Middle finger knuckle, some blood, check. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Somewhere around here katieledge says "Just get out of the kitchen. Go. Go play computer games or something harmless, before you die." Humbled by kitchenware, I comply. She waits for Astrida, who is much more handy and less destructive in culinary affairs than I.
STEP THREE: EATING
My last task: the drinks. Popping the cork on the bottle of Ukrainian Champagne was surprisingly nondestructive. At least, compared to other times I've popped champagne corks. High-pressure ricocheting corks are unwelcome guests at restaurants, we once discovered.
Pulling the cork out of the wine bottle was equally nondestructive, although I had to resort to a Swiss Army Knife because last week I broke my corkscrew, with the "screw" part stuck in a bottle of wine. It just snapped right off. How does that happen? Inconceivable!
Finally, dinner is served. The food is good. Minimal thanks to me, I'm sure.