It's all Black & White

It was obviously something I was going to write about - but the connection.... What was the connection. A 5 week old baby/the birth of a new kitchen.... no, hardly a reasonable metaphor; the beauty of a kitchen - a baby. No, not me; not believable. The end of a bad week - a very bad week, and two things to make it better: my niece and my new counter... hmmmm. An incredible addition... Aurora.

I spent the weekend with her and taught her how to cook. Boil the rice, let it cool, a good solid drizzle of olive oil into a hot pan - saute the chopped shallots, the ones that captured your attention a few minutes back- some finely diced celery and add the cooled rice. Stir, and add some more olive oil.

All the while Aurora maintaining rapt attention as you add more oil, stirring up the crunchy bits, and then some fresh herbs.

An hour of cooking - free lessons, some Van Morrison and someone to talk to. And not a peep; her eyes following you as you move from the fridge to finely chopping the garlic, zesting lemon and shredding marjoram and thyme for the rice; pan-tossing the rice and then pulling out some locally produced Manchego-styled cheese for the Mediterranean salad.

The ability to lift one's spirits; to sit and share as things take shape over heat; to look up at the right time, in the few seconds before attention is back on the stove, ratcheting up the heat on the rice to create the final crisp.

And then the kitchen.... the black and white kitchen. I extol Aurora's appreciation in my cooking; this symbiotic relationship established after an hour of culinary adventure in the Greek Isles. And then my niece intrudes.... Aurora's mother.... to inform me that babies are stimulated by black and white. It excites them.... it captivates them.... it sensitizes them. It's the Kitchen?? My Kitchen? Aurora!

No, Uncle Scott... it's you... it's you in your kitchen... the hint of a wry smile... it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.