A Cook Is Born (Eventually)

11 Aug

Last week, violin girl and drummer boy left for Music City. They’re sharing a house. Which means, no cafeteria food. Think of it as both a blessing and a curse. The blessing, we can all concur, is self-explainable. The curse, well, that requires a few words:

Since there’s a kitchen encased within the house, their meals will come by way of this room. Kaukab’s daughter is quite familiar with this room, and to a certain extent, the two musicians are, as well. But, extent can only take you so far.

So, suffice to say, Kaukab’s daughter played Kaukab (a most unenviable task) and fired rounds of recipes, eventually overwhelming the nymph cooks. Unlike Kaukab, her daughter realized the immensity of said actions and instilled a cease fire. But, like any good Middle Eastern (country), “cease” is a very loose term. Later that night, Kaukab’s daughter began channeling the master and another round of recipes were hurled via email. Beset with lines of edits, with a particular focus on tubed tomato paste usage, violin girl decided to part ways with the master and her daughter.

She sized up the eggplant-onion-garlic saute and nixed the tubed paste (once it became apparent that it wasn’t working as ordered), instead substituting it with a jar of spaghetti sauce. A mere mention of using fresh summer tomatoes with a pinch of sugar and some lemon zest was offered and accepted for future sauce making. 

As for drummer boy, it’s gonna be sausage and eggs. All day, everyday. Oh, and Belvita wafers.

Kaukab would be so prou…disappointed.



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