I am not that patient to show my kids step by step how to cook. I reluctantly give them the wheel but I try to share of what I’m doing as much as they are willing to learn.
I like to cook alone. It is my time to process thoughts and I meditate and enjoy the silence. I also have the recipes in my mind and answering questions or giving repetitive explanations would make me lose my train of thought and probably mess up the food.
Every time I showed someone how to make something (a friend, my mother in law or my daughters), it was premeditated. I had prepared myself mentally in advance and made sure I have all the ingredients. Otherwise, when I adapt as I go, I know I have confused many times my mother in law. She likes to cook from a clear recipe, not wing it like me.
Nobody showed me how to cook. The only thing I remeber someone showing me how to do is my grandmother teaching me how to beat an egg in a deep dish. The rest of my learning was done through observation. Quiet observation. And I expected the same from my kids.
I cook at home every day and we have built a bar where the kids can join me in the kitchen without being in the way. They eat their breakfast there and they spend time there without asking me questions when I cook.
I felt guilty for setting this boundary with them. Conrad is better at involving them in the baking he often does. And they all make a happy mess in the kitchen. But it is worth it. His patience is tried as well. Though I know his mom always involved the kids and the grandkids in her baking. And patiently showed them how to measure flour and sugar and oil and how to use the mixer, the kitchen aid.
Jackie wants to get some practice in the kitchen more lately. I am glad to realize that no matter what I would have done, involve her more, show her step by step things, her interest now confirms that the inner drive to gain experience or to cook is independent from how much parents pushed their kids or open doors wide to the kitchen for them.
She cooked some food that turned out great. Alas, the “gomboți” were a mess. They were sticky to handle, complicated, with many steps, and they unraveled in the water. She ended up tossing them.
Yesterday she made a cake. A no-bake cheesecake. And it came out delicious. Conrad loved it so much he said he might request it for his birthday. She was excited. But she never brags about her success. She is eager to tell others about her failed experiments but the things that turn out great, she quietly savors, relishing in the knowledge that she can cook yummy things. Just like me, she may not want the pressure of expectations to repeat the recipes. Right now she cooks because she wants to, because she can. And I think 13 is the age to have a steady hand in the kitchen and not have a parent hover at all.
Kitchen experience is not a must in a fancy way, but the fundamentals of cooking are something every human needs to have – to know how to feed themselves. It’s a basic survival skill.