This week we had “Career Day” at my son’s school. I spoke to his kindergarten class and a third-grade class. I followed a parent who, among other things, creates exhibits at the Exploratorium and another parent who gave the kids computer keys that they joyfully pulled out of their pockets to show me. “Damn,” I thought, “I didn’t bring any toys.”
I did, however, bring cherries. I happily discovered, in a very unscientific survey, that 45 out of 45 kids love cherries. I talked to the kids about being a food writer, trying new foods, and describing food. I told the older kids how to make a berry fool, which they thought sounded really cool and then they asked for more recipes, which I took as a great sign for the future of home cooking. They got to eat some cherries and we tried to describe them together. Red, shiny, round, sweet, tart, were all yelled out multiple times. As were the following observations:
“It’s like an olive because it has a, a, a thing inside – what’s this called?” as a pit was held up for my inspection
“It’s a little like a lemon? Because of how it makes my mouth feel? But it’s also sweet like candy.”
“I could eat 1,000 cherries!”
Could hardly have said it better myself. We can all rest easy. The future of food writing is secure.
Ernest loved sharing the cherries with his classmates, but you know what he talked about when he got home? “Mama, Mama, guess what?” he said, “Tess’s dad showed us a computer. He makes computers and he showed us the inside of a computer!”
He had reason to be excited. He’s not really allowed to touch our computers. We don’t know anything about them and if they broke we’d have to pay someone a lot of money to fix them. We don’t even really know what might break them, so it’s best to play it safe and have them be off-limits. I mean, I wouldn’t want him doing anything to upset the tiny elves that make the computers go.
Which, I realize, is exactly how many people feel about their kitchens. And I want them to cook with their kids anyway, and try cooking from scratch and revel in the flavors they discover. So, in solidarity with every parent who lets their kid grate the cheese even though half of it ends up on the floor, I am going to be less scared of this google-machine on which I spend many many hours every single day (just like the people who are scared to cook – or scared to let their kids in the kitchen – still eat and feed their children several times a day). I will let Ernest use it. I will make it seem fun and exciting, even as I bite my nails with every click he makes. I will wish the tiny elves well.
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