Dulcie and Cubano

My wife developed an obsession with cooking since our move to Johannesburg.  I am not always home to taste her growing repertoire, but she is not the type of girl who will allow lack of audience to interfere with ambition.  Today, she did not face that obstacle as I was at home.  The latest addition to the cooking frenzy exploded into development of a food blog.  She has an information technology background and thus made easy work of putting together the layout on computer, and announced the deadline for the first publication would be Sunday.  Today was Saturday, we were going to have fun.  Now there was a final hurdle to clear - we needed photographs.  Strangely, you need to make the stuff before visual mortification can follow.  Shortly after sunrise she wowed that chicken pie would be available for dinner, and if I do not invite enough friends, tomorrow too.

I got up and enquired about my involvement to this episode.  She assured me that would be limited to small assistance related endeavours, and then disappeared to find the camera.  She found the camera, and to my surprise produced a small shopping list, shoved me into the shower and set me off to Spar.  I loaded two unsuspecting chickens and rolls of pastry for her creation into the basket, "that is all I need" was her departing message.  Well trained fellow that I am in household ergonomics, I bought only that.

Upon arrival she shoved the unsuspecting birds into a pot, gave them a wash of measured water and fired up the stove.  That done, out came some spices, neatly arranged on a plate.  Camera fun would start then.  “Where to photograph this?” she asked me.  She carried this plate around the house looking for the best spot of light.  My suggestion of and aged tabletop in the kitchen was immediately dismissed.  She walked around some more, and then I commandeered the plate and camera.  I took the photos where I suggested.  Understanding that she might want to have a selection, I took several shots using different settings, then she could decide later which one to use.  This happened with loads of commentary about my angle and ability.  Most of the criticism was valid, but at least we got proceedings started.  When I was done, the plate again started it's travel through the house, but this time photos were taken, everywhere.  Upon return to the kitchen these spices went visiting the chickens.

"I need carrots", came the cry from the kitchen.  So much for "all I need", I thought, but overseeing carrots was a minor sin if considering the task here endeavoured.  I offered to walk with to Spar, and bought the carrots, some rice and a clove of garlic.  Carrots and garlic went into the pot, and there was time to rest.

Then the birds were done and required stripping off.  She took out a knife and started sharpening it, I said only nice things as I noticed her long blonde hair flicking back in perfect rhythm to the strokes; she likes sharpening that thing, I knew.  Most Roman legionaries were sent to battle less armed than she was right then.  As she started stripping away at the birds, my son entered the scene.  He decided this was the opportune moment to start kicking an empty plastic bag around the kitchen as background music.  This impromptu ambiance was not appreciated and fortunately mom had the clear-headedness to lay down her weapon before attacking him.  She then asked me "how would I describe her cooking".  As she already picked up the piece again, I was not going to say something stupid like "aggressive", or "violent".  Over the years I learned not to provoke a mother after a child warmed her up for action.  And this lot of mine, they have the ability to work her up to explosion point, and then disappear, this was no exception.  I am glad about this understanding as she had the two birds disassembled in no time as a display of her skill.

My answer was "enthusiastic", and she accepted the single word as a full explanation.  She had never started a project without this, and I think this is one of her best attributes.  Due to this, life turns to be very emotional, and I like it.  I cannot imagine life with a half dead woman who accepts success and failure, and the range in between, with a modest stride.  The roller coaster ride is sometimes difficult to handle, but at least there is life inside her.

Separating the herbs and spices for the remaining ingredients annoyed her, "next time I have to put this into a bag this is taking too long and is a shit job", she mumbled to herself.  She added more stuff to the growing mixture of meat, carrots, and others.  This looked very good, and had to be digitized.  The length of tour through the house was getting shorter now, and I quietly thought that soon she would be at my original position only.

Thickening the stock was the last miracle to perform before the pastry would be prepared.  This occurred within minutes, and all was done.  She uttered those romantic words of love then, "I said puff pastry you idiot, not shortbread, but I suppose I have to make do with this".  I got a bit nervous when the other torture device, a rolling pin came out after her expressing gratitude in me buying the wrong pastry.  Fortunately, application of the roller to the pastry was all the violent outlet she required to calm her down and the top of my head received no attention.  The only threats came when I tried to assist with the decorative pastry bits on the top, but by now I know when to pull back with clever suggestions.  Then she popped the entire dish into the oven after another photo shoot.

Watching this procedure unfold through two and a half hours gave me a lot of respect for the humble chicken pie.  “Not such a humble dish after all”, I said to her.  The skill in making this is also far superior to my abilities and attention span.  This was my account of the unfolding event.  I am sure my angels' write-up will be much more technical and procedural, and that is how things ought to be.  Each vantage point should allow a new perspective on the same task., an fresh angle so to say.

When the pie was done and photographed one last time, I was glad I forgot to arrange for extras.  I would have more on Sunday, and further more there was a promise that the spice that had to go into a bag, thus we would have to do this again for that photo.

I also know that all those foodies that are blogging so eagerly are doing one hell of a job, perfecting their recipes and presentation to the world.

Enjoy your journey, "Dulcie and Cubano", my love!

Saturday 1 June, 2013