My mom is a great cook and when my brother and I were kids she would make home-cooked meals almost every night (she still does). So naturally, every day after school my first question to her was never “Hey mom, how was your day?”, it was always, “Mom, I’m starving, what’s for dinner?”, or, “Mom, dinner isn’t ready yet?”. Really nice and thoughtful of me, right? I could say it was just a compliment to her fantastic cooking, but I think we all know that’s not quite the truth.
Well, one night after telling mom that I might die of starvation if she doesn’t whip up a four course meal in the first five minutes of her being home, she got fed up, and I am very glad she did! She had the brilliant idea of swapping roles and having me cook dinner for the family while she sat in the living room watching her shows. She quickly wrote down a step by step recipe for fried rice that the whole family loved. To both her and my own surprise, I gladly accepted the challenge.
At the time, I had zero cooking experience, I was only 12 years old after all. In fact, I was actually at the point that when my brother and I were home alone I wouldn’t eat anything until he started to make something for himself, then I would quickly find a way to bargain that item off of him. It sometimes worked…mostly not. Although I had no cooking experience nor any interest in cooking, I was really into shows like “Chopped”, “Iron Chef”, “Giada at Home”, etc. This may be a part of why I accepted her proposal, but there was definitely some “Watch how good I am” thinking involved.
As my mom walked downstairs to start her show I looked over the recipe she gave me. First was a list of all the ingredients I would need, no measurements. Second was the tools I would need: Wok, large ladle, large mixing bowl, “The Big Knife”, and cutting board. I know what you’re thinking…how could a mom let her 12-year old son use “The Big Knife” and a big old Wok on a gas stove? That’s a fair question, but don’t worry! My dad was sitting at the kitchen table the whole time watching my every move. Apparently, my mom had more trust in me to cook up that fried rice than him!
Her instructions said to chop up all the vegetables first, so I did. Using “The Big Knife”, I chopped up some cabbage, carrots, and an onion. Yes I cried, my dad did too. It was a happy cry, I was happy to be able to chop these vegetables, I felt like an adult. After the vegetables were chopped I put them in my mixing bowl so I could use the cutting board to cut and season the chicken. I cut the chicken into little bite size cubes and per mom, seasoned the chicken with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder. I then grabbed the wok, threw it on the stove, added “some” sesame oil and turned the heat to high. Things were getting real.
First, I threw the chicken in and it instantly started cooking with a loud roar of a sizzle. The pan was likely way too hot, but I felt very confident about it…I was cooking! I used the big ladle to stir the chicken around in the oil, and as it started to stick to the sides I knew I needed to get some oil on the sides of the pan so I picked the Wok up and started moving it side-to-side, spreading the oil around, which helped a lot. I let the chicken cook for a couple of minutes until it looked like how my mom usually made it and spooned it out into a bowl.
Now it was time for the vegetables! I threw them in the pan without putting any more oil in, which was my first mistake. Or at least, it’s the first mistake I noticed. Lots of smoke came up and it already smelled like it was burning, but I ALMOST did not panic! My dad had spaced out a little, but this caught his attention. We both sort of ran in circles around the kitchen for a couple seconds, like chicken’s without their heads. Apparently this running fit helped me focus up because all of the sudden I started pouring more sesame oil over the vegetables until it seemed right, gave it a good stir, lowered the heat, and we were back in business.
In my moms instructions, she said: “Cook the vegetables until they are a little bit soft”, so that is what I did. They were a bit brown around the edges from when I first threw them into the wok, which made me think I burnt them, but I moved on! “Time to throw everything together”, I grabbed the pre-cooked rice that my mom had set on the counter when she got home from work and prepared myself for the finale.
Per the instructions, I had already set out a bottle of soy sauce, jarred garlic, squeezable ginger, basil, and crushed red pepper next to the stove. I learned from my past mistake with the vegetables and threw some more oil into the pan, and let it heat up a bit. I grabbed my rice and through it in the wok, started breaking it up with my ladle, and let it sit for a few seconds. Next came the vegetables. Then the soy sauce and all the seasonings, and finally the chicken. I stirred and stirred until everything was mixed together, lowered the heat, took a deep breath, and smiled.
I was successful! Something clicked in that moment and I knew I found a new hobby that I could be passionate about. Everything came somewhat naturally to me. I added more oil when needed, I cooked the chicken perfectly, I knew to lower the heat when things were getting crazy. It felt as if I already knew it all. I truly was ecstatic, I raised the bowl of rice in the air doing a little dance. I showed my mom! But, as I set the bowl back down on the counter I completely miscalculated and I watched it fall slowly to the ground, spilling everywhere on the floor. I didn’t hurry to clean it up, or pick the bowl up. I just started bawling. My dad came running back into the kitchen worried, he heard the crash and thought I dropped “The Big Knife” on my foot. He was relieved to see that wasn’t the case and that my hard work for the past half hour was spilled all over the ground. He rushed to pick up the bowl, which was still half full with clean fried rice. The rest he threw away.
I was crushed, but my dad did a good job of consoling me. We did still have enough for the four of us to have a good dinner! I called my mom upstairs: “Mom, dinner’s ready!”, like she usually did my brother and I. I felt like an adult and it felt amazing. As she came up she commented on how good it smelled. I stood tall. My mom smiled when she saw four bowls on the kitchen table filled with rice. We all sat down and began.
I realized I hadn’t tasted anything yet, it didn’t seem right to get a sample of everything before everyone else. “Did I put too much soy sauce?”, “Are the vegetables overcooked?”, “Is the chicken still raw?!” This is moment the best of the best crumble under the suspense of whether it worked or not. There was so much noise going on in my head, but as everyone tried it together I hear my brother say “It’s good”. My head cleared, I was calm, happy, and ready to share a nice dinner with my family.
Seeing everyone enjoy what I had cooked was such an incredible feeling, and this was the moment I knew that cooking was to become an important part of my life.
It was also the day the Boxer Chef was born.
Joe's Eat Place 