When I retired from the daily grind of honest labour, Cuppa more or less retired from cooking, and we mutually agreed that I should take up that task. I say that she more or less retired from the chore because it wasn't a complete repudiation. She still cooks the occasional meal,for example, and almost always rounds up what is to be had for lunch. But if a meal is to be cooked from scratch, I am usually the one to do it — with mixed results I must confess. Unfortunately.
On the whole, I manage, but I do stumble at times, and something that I recently read in another blog reminded me of a faux pas from one of my early attempts.
Fortunately, many fine, instructive cookbooks exist, but as careful as some might be, they can still take certain things for granted. Exhibit A: I give you the lowly onion. How is an unkitchened man supposed to know that a green onion is not an ordinary onion of the kind that we always have about and regularly consume? They always looked kind of green to me. It took one recipe and one wife to teach me the difference.
I believe it was a linguine recipe, but whatever it was, I distinctly remember that it called for me to chop up six green onions. Which I thought were ordinary, yellow, cooking onions. So ... I commenced to chop ... and chop ...
As the mountain of onion grew, I began to grow rebellious. I was chopping my fifth onion, and the bowl was already overflowing. so when Cuppa entered the room, I cast my gaze from the onion hill to her and petulantly declared, "I don't care what the recipe calls for, I've chopped enough onions!"
It was then that my dear wife gently explained through tears of laughter the difference between green onions and yellow onions. Education is a wonderful thing.