Dr. Darling will tell you herself that she’s not much of a cook, but she can follow a recipe with the precision of a Swiss watch-maker and has picked up a few things from living with me for the last 10 years.
Most nights we cook together. I work with the protein (she’s a little squeamish about handling raw meat) and the Swede takes on the job of vegetable prep for whatever dish we are doing. Besides, given my limited range of vision, it just seems wise that she handles the big chef’s knife when we are both in the relatively narrow confines of the Penthouse Nordic kitchen.
Now as anyone who does any amount of cooking knows, there are lots of different ways to cut up vegetables depending on how they are going to be used in any given dish. Sometimes they need to be finely chopped, sometimes they need to be in big chunks, sometimes they should be in longish strips … like when you’re preparing fajitas, for example.
Which is why one time, quite early on in our joint cooking adventures, Dr. Darling was completely puzzled as to why my face fell when she presented me with a cutting board full of vegetables that weren’t quite right for the particular dish we were working on.
Not wanting to discourage her by saying she’d done them “wrong”, I opted for a kinder, gentler explanation … that they just didn’t fit “my vision” for how the vegetables would be cut up … something I have been teased about pretty mercilessly ever since.
Which lead to this recent conversation when I was cooking on my own one night.
Dr. Darling: You’re not as far along as I thought.
Shazz: I’m a little behind on the peppers and onions.
Dr. Darling: Getting them to match your “vision”, you mean?
Shazz: I didn’t realize that my “vision” was such a labor-intensive pain-in-the-ass.
Dr. Darling: Welcome to my world.