Good Cooking!

So… (Drum roll, cheering, and many fireworks) I just cooked my first successful dish of food, a feat that took no small amount of work and patience.  Let me recount to you the events that surrounded this monumental occasion.

It was the fourth of July, and it was planned to have many friends and family over to celebrate with us.  On behalf of this mother set to work preparing many dishes of good food, eating being what Americans do to mark special occasions (and all other occasions for that matter.) 

I relaxed and sat back, unconcerned with the frenzied preparing of food that surrounded me, knowing that mom had long since given up on me helping cook things. So that was why I was so shocked when I heard the command come my way of “Go forth, and make a relish plate!” 

I looked around for whoever she was talking to, being convinced that she wouldn’t be talking to me because of all the tragic things that had happened when I tried cooking before. Observing no other people in the vicinity I realized that she was, indeed, addressing me. Realizing that she must be confused, I told her “Mom, this is Aliysa.” She said that she knew this, and once again commanded me to go make a relish plate.

In order to make a point, I raised my eyebrow. Mom didn’t look impressed, so I continued raising it higher and higher, but the effect was ruined because mom looked away just before it left the top of my head.

The only thing left to do was to throw a fit, but it didn’t seem to be the best thing to do in this situation because mom was already frazzled to a crisp (that’s what comes of cooking.)  So I set to work.

You may say, “in order to be cooking you must cook something.”  This my friends, is not the case. Cooking is anything that is involved with preparing food that is filled with stress, boredom, anger, and tears. So therefore, making a relish plate IS cooking.

Mom pointed to the vegetables that she had already put out on the counter, and issued instructions. “Open the cans of olives, put them in there, put the carrot sticks in there, wash the celery and put them there, wash, cut up, and peel the cucumbers and put them in there, and make the ranch dip with this sour cream and this ranch seasoning and put it in this bowl.”

I stared at her. “You want me to do all that?” I questioned weakly.

“Yes” she said. “And you only have three hours”

Three hours?!?! That was all the time I had to complete all of that? How would I accomplish it?

I stared distastefully at the vegetables.  The celery stared balefully back, but the cucumbers winked!!! It scared me. “Mom!” I cried “Those cucumbers winked at me, that means they have something evil planned!” Mom informed me that vegetables don’t wink, and that made me feel a bit better. But the question remains. How, if vegetables don’t wink, did the cucumbers wink?

I poured the carrots into the place on the relish plate where they went, that being the easiest thing to do on the list, and admired my handiwork. So far so good, but there was still many things to do.

The next thing I decided to do was to open the cans of olives, that being fairly easy. I grabbed our hand powered can opener, our electrical one having just died on us. I put it on the can and started turning the crank. It sounded like it was opening, but as I turned it and looked at the top I didn’t see it opening at all. How strange! I continued trying, but it didn’t open. I flew into a frenzy of cranking and cranked it around and around the top of the can, to no avail. I stopped, panting, and informed mom that I would have to give up this project, because it wouldn’t open. She smiled and showed me that it was one of those evil ones that open the cans on the side, not the top, so I had been trying to open it for five minutes and it had been open all the time. Blasted olives!  I rinsed them and put them in their place on the relish plate

I avoided the cucumbers, on account of the unexplained winking, and focused on the celery. I could tell that the celery didn’t like me, but I didn’t show fear, having heard that celery could sense fear. I washed it hurriedly in the sink,  then welded the knife and chopped into it.  It screamed, and I felt bad, but it was over quickly. I cut it up and put it in its place on the relish plate. I realized that is was very ugly celery, and in made the relish plate look worse, but I didn’t want to worry about it any more.

By this time I was thoroughly sick of cooking, so I tried running away. But mom caught me by my hair and brought me back. So I continued with the relish plate.

Next, I would do the dip. I grabbed the shaker of ranch seasoning to look at the directions. There were no directions! I flew into a panic and rushed over to mom, crying for help. She couldn’t find any either! Oh no!  Mom said just to put two cups of sour cream in a bowl and keep dumping seasoning in until it tasted right. Gingerly I put the sour cream into a bowl, and dumped in a miniscule amount of seasoning. I stirred it us and took it to mom to taste. She said there wasn’t near enough seasoning in it, so I threw caution to the winds and poured in a mountain of seasoning. Uneasily I wondered if it was okay to have equal parts seasoning and sour cream. After mixing I decided that that was not okay. I had to add much more sour cream. But eventually, once I had about three fourths of a gallon it tasted close enough to how it was supposed to, so I put it in a giant bowl. That was done.

Last, but definitely not least I had the feeling, were the cucumbers. Quickly I snatched one up, then washed it, and peeled in all in one motion and flung in onto the cutting board before it had time to do anything. I tried that same approach with the second one, but it had seen me do that to its friend and it bit me on the thumb. Then it tried to squirm down the drain! I snatched it before it was completely down and peeled it and put it on the cutting board. In the  meantime the one that I had already peeled had rolled away! I was filled with wrath, and seizing the knife, I went in pursuit. I leaped hither and thither thorough the kitchen, searching in any place a cucumber could hide. Mom looked at me in alarm. I told her what had happened, and she inquired how anybody could lose their cucumber while washing another. I ignored the snide comment and concentrated on finding the fugitive.  Finally I found out that it had eloped with my little brother, or so it seemed, because he was holding it behind his back snickering. I took it away from him and chopped it up before his eyes. He didn’t seem bothered though.

Finally, it was done! The relish plate was finished! My first successful cooking venture.  I got many compliments on it, such as “My, what ugly celery!” and “Who cut these cucumbers? they look awful.” I was very proud. Next time I may try cutting up some fruit, maybe it will be a sweeter experience.