Cooking Class

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My family’s abilities to cook vary—my mom, my father, my sister, and me, like strangers in a class. My mom is the teacher, trying to explain different dishes. My mom is an artist who can whip up a masterpiece with what we have in the kitchen. My father the minimalist, and cooks like a lunch lady. He sticks to simple. He is a barbarian, a carnivore who calls for meat to move. My sister, the sweetheart with a sweet tooth, only wants to learn baking. I like the rules, and follow step-by-step the recipe to ensure a special dish. I love to look at the food and listen intently while learning the ways of the master. The lessons don’t come as often as projects do. I cook and bake by my lonesome because the barbaric meal has no veggies for the vegan.  Maybe one day this student will surpass the master.






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