Dear Mom remember to wear your chef’s clothes

Dear Mom remember to wear your chef’s clothes

Whenever Claire and I set out to make something we always have to put on our chef’s clothes. These consist of an apron and a chef’s hat with an adjustable headband. She did not get them all at once, mind you. She had to earn them.

It all started when she was very small, less than two years old, and she would watch from her high chair as Dad donned his apron and put on his chefs hat and started making lunch. Now how cool is that? Not only does Dad use things I am not allowed to touch he gets to wear special clothes. I would try to put a bowl in front of her every time and ask her to stir. Reminding her, “When you get really, really good at this you might get your own apron!” She would stir with all her might and occasional get through the whole ordeal with the majority of the bowl contents still intact. When she was finally tall enough to reach the counter on her stepstool I announced she had earned an apron and could now cook at the counter. She would stand up on her stepstool with her apron and stir and mix and add salt whatever she could.

All fathers dream of the day when their daughters no longer need us to make every meal, pour every bowl of cereal and get every bottle of milk out of the frig. We hope this all happens without us having to clean up a mess afterwards but the dream of liberation comes first. There is no better way to do this than to heap pride and prestige upon the act of cooking. This is similar to the way we look forward to the day when our daughters are old enough to go to the potty by themselves. The difference is the consequential messes are larger yet less smelly.

As she perfected her skills of shaking, mixing, and adding things to the bowl she would occasionally ask about the chef’s hat.

“Dad, this is pretty tough, I might need the chef’s hat for this.” As if the chef’s hat relayed some magical power that once possessed would imbue her with unmatched cooking skill.

“Not quite yet,” I would assure her, “your day will come.”

Sometimes the approach would be different. “If I can stir this without spilling do I get to wear the chef’s hat?” She would say this while staring intently at the hat on my head.

“It is a good way to show me you have earned it, but you will not get to wear it yet.” The disappointment of getting turned down had long passed. It was mostly just a steady longing. But she would dutifully do whatever was needed to get the hat.

“Okay, before we eat we have to put all of our dishes away.” By the time I finished the statement she would already be hauling dishes to the dishwasher. I still ponder rather this early initiation will survive her teen years.

Shortly after her third birthday and her completion of potty training she made an announcement right before we started on some banana bread. “Dad, now that I am wearing big girl panties I need to wear the chef’s hat.” This was not an inquiry this was a statement of fact. Long months she had stared at the chef’s hat waiting for the day she could put it on and make her first dish. Long she had labored over the mixing bowls yearning for that magical moment when the chef’s hat would be hers. Now, with her newfound strength that comes when you mature into a panty wearing big girl she was stating her case.

“You know, I think you are right, I think you need to wear the chef’s hat today.” Her eyes lit up as if a thousand headlights went off all at once. She was jumping up and down on her stool deftly keeping her balance yet teetering on the brink of collapse at any moment.

I took the hat from my head and adjusted it for hers as I placed it proudly upon her brow. “Wow this sure is a big hat!” She felt her head to make sure it was real. “I have to see!” She rushed to the mirror to admire her newly won badge of honor. “I sure am a chef now huh Dad?”

“Yes you are darling, yes you are.”

Now whenever we set out to create a new culinary masterpiece we first put on our chef’s cloths. It focuses our attention, because you can’t go do something else while you are wearing your chef’s clothes. Some things have relaxed a bit. We no longer put on an apron just to make a peanut butter and honey sandwich but if it requires turning on the stove, like a grilled cheese sandwich it is sure going to need some chef’s clothes. Likewise the hat is sometimes unnecessary. If we are only going to pop something in the microwave there is no chef’s hat required, but if there is an oven involved you will have to be properly attired.

Now if I can just think up a uniform for cleaning your room.

Love Mike