Scene: The small galley kitchen of a working class bungalow where the Husband is hard at work whipping up something wicked.
Enter Stephen, sophisticated, sassy, & shrewd
Stephen: Do you really have to make such a big mess of the kitchen when you cook?
Husband: Do me a favor... you do all the cooking & of course, don't make a mess while preparing your meal. Just promise to not let anyone eat any of your food.
The sting of the truth is- I really can't cook. I can't even make coffee. My parents are great cooks. My Husband is a great cook. I've worked in restaraunts most of my life. I am afraid that there is the very real possibility that cooking is an inate trait, like painting, singing or dancing. You can practice, study & improve, but either you got it, or, you ain't, & I ain't got it.
I gave it a try every once in a while. 35 years ago, there was the still talked about culinary creation- Steve's Pinapple & Pea Salad. Inventive. After the stinging slap of a slight about my kitchen skills, I challanged myself to learn to do a few basics. I got out my mother's Fanny Farmer Cookbook, & I went to work on a new Stephen- The Proficient Cook. After 3 weeks of trying out my offerings, my Husband, my strays & my friends asked me to stop trying to provide the occasional meal. They had an intervention, & they implored me to stop cooking.
Stephen: Hey, when I do cook dinner, even if it has been 25 years, I clean up as I go along, & when I am done, the kitchen looks tastfully together, just a few dishes to do. You get food on the walls, on the cabinets & on the dogs! I don't understand how you make such a mess...
The Husband exits stage R, rather abruptly.
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