Over the past couple of weeks, Poss has been showing an interest in cooking. As a woman who has very little interest in cooking, other than to eat the results, this is new for me. But I am running with it.
There are life skills that need to be taught, it’s probably our responsibility and who knows, one day she might cook me dinner. Worth a shot anyway.
She is funny to watch while she cooks. We have started with the basics, chopping vegetables, lining up the ingredients, following recipes. I really have no idea; I moved out of home young and honestly was lucky to be able to cook toast. I hope I am starting at the start.
But Poss is, as always, leaps ahead of me and seems to have learned some skills via YouTube. Or that’s where I assume she learned them. She is great at commentating each step, exactly like a cooking show; “you’ll need three mushrooms. I like to look for this colour when I select my mushrooms, and I find that this is the easiest way to chop them”.
Tonight as she chopped away, she asked me why girls don’t have good knife skills. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Where would you hear such a thing?” I asked. “On the TV” she replied. “On the ads, where they say men are better cooks than girls”.
I asked her what she thought about that. Were men really better cooks than women? Really? I asked her about the only chef she knows, and she answered with the name of a good friend of mine; a chef at one of our favourite restaurants, who also happens to be a woman.
We talked about knife skills for a bit longer and decided that a girl should be just as good with a knife as a man if she wants to be. In fact, girls should be able to do all the same things that a man can do. And men should be able to do all the things a woman can do.
Although we both agreed that maybe Daddy shouldn’t try to wear a bikini, because that would be silly and he should probably avoid high heels, as his balance isn’t great.
Then we talked about advertising and how sometimes it lies. She asked me why and I couldn’t really answer, other than to tell her that people wanted to sell things, so sometimes lying about it was how they did it. She then wisely threw a barrage of advertisements featuring everything from lollies through to cars at me that she thought were full of lies. She was right about all of them.
By that stage, we were browning onions. The scent was enough to make our eyes water. She asked if we were done, she’d had enough, her concentration span was spent. She thanked me for teaching her how to chop mushrooms.
I thanked her for just being her.