Sous Chef

I was a sous chef before I even knew what a sous chef was. My first (and toughest – hey, to defy her is to risk getting smacked upside the head, even at the ripe old age of thirtysomething-) boss was, of course, my mom. Plucking greens. Peeling and deveining shrimp. Snapping peas. Chopping onions, celery and bell peppers. Baking cakes and cookies. And cobblers. Eventually I graduated to cutting up a whole chicken, making the family cornbread dressing, gumbos, couvillon (bouillabaisse) and rubbing and injecting the turkey for frying . My younger sisters were always there as assistants or co-chefs in the later years. Now it’s just me. Chopping away to the music and hoping that we’re together again soon, though when we work together sooner or later an eyebrow is raised because somebody shirks her share of the work, but it’s still all good. Usually the person who is short on the work is full of news about the kids we went to school with or their families or somebody in our family who is up to something scandalous, which of course always compensates for a shortage in work. Tee hee.
In a year or so, my oldest son will be assisting me with the chopping. Then his brother and his sister and then the baby. It’s funny how the recipes change with time. Mama didn’t like the oysters that my great grandma used. I’ve added a little Indian spice here and there and I even learned to make a vegetarian version. I wonder what my kids will add to the mix to make it theirs.