(A) cooking lesson(s)

One Saturday afternoon.
Cooking lessons in progress at home.
Instructor? Your’s truly.
Student? the daughter.

How to boil water was a good lesson.
Pan with water: Check.
Stove: On.
Heat: Medium.
Timer: Check.
Thermometer: Check

Nothing at first.
Except curiosity at its best.
Then…
Pin heads.
Crab eyes.
Bubbles rising to the surface.
Bigger bubbles.
Dragon eyes!
Uncalm surface.
Steam.
160/175/180/200F.

Tell me the temparature by what you see.
No touch.
No feel.
No using a digital IR temperature gauge.
(or an analogue thermometer-one with a red needle and a face)).
Not yet.

Natural progression from this is to brew tea.
To add tea leaves to boiling water and then steep
Or take tea leaves in a cup and add boiling water?
Karak (or Kadak) tea.
Chai tea, maybe?

Coffee comes next.
Dried Ginger coffee.
Turkish coffee, in which the spoon stands tall.
Arabic coffee?
Cardamom.
Dates.
Muscovado? Demerrera?

Turkish coffee story.
Man with his team awaits.
Girl (soon-to-be-bride) makes coffee.
Girl likes Man.
But
Adds salt instead of sugar.

Tense moments pass by.
Man drinks it all without a word.
Asks for more.
Girl happy.
Coz it’s three yes-ses!
Man marries girl.
End of story.
(Whose story?)

Finally, graduating to the perfect, fluffy, non-sticky rice.
Basmati.
Matta.
Ponni.
Chamba.
Rose.
Jasmine.
Sushi.

Cakes (n) are just that.
A cake (v) to bake.
So easy.
Instructor: Use your nose (points to the nose) to ensure the cake is done; not the skewer.
Student: Wont your nose get burned then?
(Ed: Hmmmm… that’s so true)
Instructor: (just grins)
Student: Laughs…

Cookies aint.
Kid was more happy to use the cookie-cutter.

Soda= spreads.
Powder= puffs.
Now the variables.
Sugar helps retain water content.
Butter or shortening.
Long time at low temp
Or
Short while at higher temp.
Crispy or softer.
May be chewy.
Roll, refrigerate and cut
against
flatten using a rolling pin and use a mold.
Eggs or no eggs.
Mix. Whisk. Fold. Add.
Wood.
Silicone.
Hand.
Chilled.
Warm.
Glass bowl.
Steel bowl.

And when the home gets filled with the aroma of cookies…
even the neighbours start to drool.

Cookies never gets to make it to fill the cookie jar.
Ever.

Door bell rings…
Must be the cookie-gang.

Someday she will make an Omelette.
On her own.

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