Dear Friends,
Our youngest is starting his final semester of high school. So is he, like so many of his classmates, suffering from a case of senioritis? Nope, not my kid.
The suffix -itis means inflammation or infection. Malcolm isn't red and swollen. The correct medical term for what he has is seniorosis, a diseased or degenerative state of the 12th grade with unclear pathophysiology.
This month's Hard Taco song, "Boulangerie," is a braggadocio rap about French culinary prestige culture. Sadly, my public persona as a wildly self-confident baker is built on a lie born of my own seniorosis.
In early 1993, with college applications behind me, I registered for a cooking course to close out my final semester. But it soon became clear that we would be discussing pot holders rather than braising short ribs. The class was about kitchen safety, not culinary art.
There was a textbook, Labensky and Hause's On Cooking, but I never cracked it open. I internalized the core principles through real life experience: If milk smells bad, boil it to reset it. Point pan handles away from the stove and out into traffic.
Leave items cooking on the stovetop unattended whenever possible. When washing a hot greasy pan, run cold water into it face first. Lean directly over it to inspect the splash radius. Use one cutting board for everything from raw chicken to fruit salad, to "season" it.
There was no AP test, but I'm sure I would have aced it without studying. If a can is bulging, that just means you're getting more beans for the same price. Always cut towards your body, and if you accidentally drop a knife, catch it heroically. Wash mushrooms with dish soap. Guess internal meat temperatures confidently. If oil starts smoking, add water to calm it. Open steaming lids towards you. It's just common sense.
At the end of the semester, the instructor presented each of us with a signed credential card. Mine said, "Zachary London is certified to prepare simple foods safely and accurately." I carried this in my wallet for many years, flashing it when anyone questioned my kitchen credentials. But kitchen safety can't be laminated... it has to be lived.
With warmest regards,
Zach
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