Tinkering with knives

I was going to blog about Legally Blonde, the musical, which we went and saw last week. In fact last week we had an unusually adult social life, where we went out 3 times without my son. Usually we go out once max, and most times we take him with us. So it was a treat to go out and talk to adults without having to take younger ears/tastes/needs into account.

But I digress.

I was going to talk about Legally Blonde, but I'll report on that later. Instead this article in the NY times prompted me to recall a conversation I've had quite a few times recently.

In the suburbs, or when I grew up.. .(god, the phrases you promised you'd never say) there were/are yards, and garages, and general outdoor messy space, space where a child can tinker. But in apartments, in new york city, there's no real space to make mess. The apartments are too small and too valuable (not on the floor, carpet, sofa!) to allow much freedom in mess making, and so any truly messy projects are not encouraged.

The only place that mess is still expected to occur and cleaning up is relatively easy, is in the kitchen. Not only that, but you have the added benefit of being permitted to play with knives and fire (in the loosest sense of the word) - truly adult experiences.

So it's no surprise to me that my son loves to cook. He's allowed to pour, to add, to sift. He can chop, hold knives longer than his hands, he can stand by the pan (on a small stool) and saute. He can put things in the oven and watch them rise. Cooking is the one mess making, tinkering, experimental, experiential place that is still available to him in the hot house environment of a NY apartment. And not only that, but it's something we do every night (or most nights).

He didn't like to read very much, but cook books, with their glossy photos and interesting words, drew him. So I encouraged him to read, then we would buy the ingredients and the next day, voila, a new taste sensation. Some were more successful than others, but we would discuss why certain recipes appealed and others did not. I even gave in and made Beef Wellington one night (we saw Gordon Ramsay do it on TV. Never do what a TV chef does, they make it look effortless! ) which was a lot of work for a Friday night dinner, but it shows that family meals can be special and can be worth effort (of course, there are are more nights when I just chop bacon and add it to the tomato sauce and penne.)

So that's my ramble for today - the kitchen as the last resort of mess and tinkering, where play leads to a cooked meal. And the added benefit - my son will definitely be able to cook when he grows up.