That Wild and Crazy Cook

Richard has been doing a lot of cooking. He has always been interested in cooking. When I met him he would create elaborate meals for friends, using the cookbooks of Julia Child. He’s always loved the Julia cookbooks because they have step-by-step photos and give so much detail. Julia Child actually gives twelve steps for boiling an egg. That much detail drives me crazy, but is right in Richard’s comfort zone.

Richard is a scientist and a process person. He’s never in a hurry to get to the end of a project or a journey. We get there when we get there, and enjoy the trip along the way. This is often good, but sometimes gets him in a bit of trouble. Like when he’d choose a complete Julia Child menu and think he could prepare all five courses by himself in one day.

I know that a twenty-four hour day is just a method for keeping track of time, but Richard lives on a continuum of eternal time that doesn’t necessarily synch with the rest of the world. This served him well when he was on hospital call for three or four days in a row, but not so much when having guests for dinner.

The first time he had me over for dinner, I arrived at 7:00p.m. to find him still vacuuming his house. He offered me a drink, told me to make myself at home and disappeared with his vacuum cleaner. I wandered into the kitchen to find Julia Child and Company cookbook open to a paella recipe and all the ingredients laid out on the counter – raw. I had nothing better to do, so I began preparing the paella. Julia Child recipes are not things you can whip up in a half hour. By the time we had dinner, it was 11:00 p.m.

Fast forward to the first time we had a dinner party together. It was important to Richard that he prepare the meal. He pulled out his Julia Child cookbooks, and came up with a menu and grocery list. Since early in our relationship, Richard has minimized our power struggles by insisting that in every shared project, we first decide who is officer and who is enlisted. For this meal, I was enlisted.

As Richard sliced and diced, my job was to stir and sauté. It didn’t take long for me to realize that our meal wouldn’t make it to the table until well after our guests were passed out from hunger (or, quite possibly, from inebriation). Behind Richard’s back, I began to cut corners to save time. We did get the meal done in time, and then agreed that we’d use no more than two Julia recipes per meal.

Since I travel so much, Richard often attends the bluegrass sessions at Charlie and Deborah’s without me. Other attendees look forward to discovering what’s in our chafing dish, and being exposed to something out of the ordinary. Richard’s most recent creation was Paprika Chicken, a rustic stew with carrots, potatoes, onions, red and green bell peppers, and a bunch of spices including caraway seeds and paprika. To feed the crowd, plus leave some for our host and hostess, plus give some to Mamie and some to Jack, Richard had to make a vat of vittles.

When I arrived at home the day after bluegrass, Richard regaled me with stories of his kitchen conquests. He was so proud of his method for efficiently deboning all that chicken, and how well he utilized so much of our fresh-from-Mamie’s-garden produce. He was positively poetic in his praise of our potatoes; they were so firm, so flavorful, so fantastic. And the ease with which he deseeded the peppers; I should have seen him at work…

Everyone loved the dish, and he had saved a generous portion for me. I agreed that it was, as Richard would say, “A keeper”.

The only complaint Richard had was that the directions in the cookbook were faulty. I pointed out that I found this hard to believe based on the results of Richard’s efforts. In his very precise manner, Richard explained to me that the instructions had said to cube the bell peppers. He was horrified! How could this be? If he cubed the peppers, they would be only five sixteenths of an inch cubes, and this was a rustic dish. He had to make an executive decision. Did I tell you that Richard likes rules? Was he to disobey the rules?

Richard decided to cut the peppers into half inch squares, throwing all caution to the wind. I told him I think he’s about to graduate from cook to chef.